Vaporization Mature content No. 314 Published May 23rd, 2022 8:16am pdt read ( words) Past entries "We are so fucking far past the ablation that there cannot be recombination. Not at all. None. Vapor, for as long as it lasts. Holy Jesus fucking God on a purple rubber crutch, this scene makes my head twist in half. Good Christ, what I am seeing must be from another fucking planet, or at least some alternate, parallel universe. She is something else, yet most of the time the key lines and radii are absent or otherwise obscured by way of clothing or some other means. But there? On the screen? Too much to describe. The sight actually causes physical pain of a type I cannot begin to describe, nor can I describe her. She is unique, unreal, unrelenting, and unbelievable. Not a fucking detail which does not scream at me. And then Linda crawling? Right on the heels of the scene of a lifetime? Fuck me running. I can't handle it. Time for a big sip of vodka and a damned smoke. 1101 on the same day the previous entry was published and I am destroyed. The 'passion' -- that timepiece slash work of art embodying every single fucking interest I have ever embraced and all rolled into the most beautiful and wondrous mechanical package on earth -- remains at a distant second. The one possession that moved me more than anything else in history was the Slipper, and that precious beauty is fucking THIRD. Basket case. Fucking depressed like never before, not even the shit period of eleven. 1120 and I feel like doing something else. 1633 and boy is the weather warm. I had no idea the mercury would rise quite so much in one day. Wow. Anyway, I took care of some housework and dry cleaning, and then moved to the empire to see what I need to prepare for when the wire and power supply arrive. So far, not a big deal. I did see a very tall, thin woman strolling behind her son on a bicycle. She had to have been taller than me. Geez. Always something, but whatever. I'll be slowing down for the remainder of the afternoon due to the house being so warm. Maybe just computer work and my show. Seeing as how all my hopes and dreams have been vaporized, I may as well do something unrelated to beauty. 'She' will still be in my head, however. No ridding myself of that one. 0629 on Thursday morning. The woman with my cousin's name, up on the screen, again. Fuck me. The flags are out and cats have had breakfast. And now the white catsuit in the desert sand. The thoughts in my head are very bad, but also good. I need to see her sometimes and evaluate my condition throughout the passage of time. Two years ago I brought her to this site and typed her name. Since then -- including up to this sentence -- there have been 212 occurrences of Jolene. I believe at some point I equated her name to my cousin and then felt more for her than I had in the past. Twenty-plus years ago when this series first aired, I don't recall watching. I only remember seeing some episodes during the 1236 period and after I had traded our older television for high-definition. Back then, her face was not the emotional wonderland that I see up there this morning, although her performance has not been altered... I have. The point of this is I've been staring at Jolene on and off for a very long time, and then began bringing her up within this content two years back. As a reference, and combined with going back to those essays and re-reading my own words from the beginning of the pandemic, I can learn of just how much I have changed since being home all the time. My feelings for Jolene and a few other characters have definitely increased in strength. And that increase is likely directly proportionate to the desperation I feel almost hourly. 0858, last of the coffee. I've finished half of the routine and placed the metal recycling at the curb. Garage is open for business. Eh... More work. 1043 and everything is finished. I went back out to the little empire and grabbed more metal leftovers to send to the recycle. It's all out on the driveway awaiting pickup. In addition, I was able to download the musical passages from the Empire show. The entire 23-track composition has been playing over the big MDRs. Right now, in fact. One track in particular will be idea for background music on Halloween. Very mysterious, that one. The music came over during Cleopatra's seduction of Caesar just yesterday while watching the show. Awesome. I may have to delve into the dragon music, too. Such drama would be ideal for the scary night, which I plan to make even more scarier than last year. The demon night, for sure. The empire will be lit red and orange, and with such dark and dramatic music playing, the night should prove splendid. Last year I had the scary music from my favorite game -- a disc now more than twenty-five years old, mind you -- and some of the children did not wish to approach my garage without an adult escort. Heh. This year I shall push further. Less than five months away. The empire is the one aspect of my life which has yet to vaporize, and the only part of living over which I enjoy complete control. Remember that word? All my crap is spread across the work bench awaiting inspiration. I fully intend to get out there in a little while and make some cable assemblies for lighting the lower half of the newest mural, plus I can power every strip of LEDs from the same source with room for future expansion. I purposely grabbed a power supply grossly oversized just in case more ideas come to light. In fact, I already have a plan to remove the neon sign from over the east window and create a large symbol on the wood backing. Years ago I added the wood over the window in order to cut the sunlight during mornings. There is but one third of the glass visible now. Plenty of room for a hand-drawn pentacle from my past which resembles wood grain on sight. Lots of symbolism out there these days, none of which will attract the squareheads. Very good. I don't need any voodoo in my life. Well, at least nothing north of where I now reside. When I tabulated the number of occurrences of Jolene's name on the site, I inadvertently found a reminder that two years ago I had been mixing 'Jaime' and 'Jamie'. Funny. They could not be more different. Just a thought. 0635, Friday morning. Flags, cats, coffee, the usual. I have a little while before the morning stuff. After? I plan to take it easy a little. Yesterday I ran some tests and rewired part of the empire's lighting system, after which I transferred two of my speakers to the neighbor's garage and ran wiring for both power and the antenna. That was a chore and left my back all fucked up for the rest of the evening. So, today I may just work inside again and chip away at the small items. My back will probably thank me later. The sun is already shining, so whatever is the most comfortable work today will take priority. I need something productive to keep the bad thoughts at bay. All that gushing about Jolene and her shape yesterday was indicative of my inner condition. Not a fucking day passes that I do not see vapor behind me. The first time I went after the darkness and outside the norm of daily, 'expected' life was thirty-four years ago. The inkling has not left because something happened which began to require a different type of understanding and communication, and there has been but a handful of occasions thus far. Such thinking and recollection are beginning to send my head into different places, one of which I am not accustomed. Worry over what someone may be thinking of me. And yes, I realize how ridiculous that may sound after years of bitching regarding society. I can't help but head in such a direction these days because of all I've done wrong. The way I feel about myself shall be left out because it is constantly changing and I'm tired of trying to keep pace. Stay the fuck out And now we have the episode that many disliked because they felt the female guest star was rather 'wooden' as an actor. They should be looking past her ability (which I believe is appropriate to the story) and begin staring at what an amazing work of art the woman really is. Maybe I am the only person who will think in such terms. I don't know. She hails from the Middle East, is very dark and quite tall, and her eyes are huge and go on forever. Absolutely stunningly gorgeous from any angle, especially when there is an argument between her and the other actor. Her face appears slightly miffed and fucking cuter than I can describe. Maybe I'll place an image of her from the modeling career on this entry or the next. Holy shit is she ever beautiful. The situation is bad, as usual. Everything up in smoke, so to say. I remember back during the major Asian fetish, a coworker of mine who was a hybrid and close to me was always interested in hearing about what I was thinking. I pictured all sorts of stuff back then, too. With her, mostly. I had hopes of something... Anything with the ability to pull me from the din and provide some escape from what I felt was mundane (in reality, I was far from living a mundane life, but did not see it). Nothing ever developed. In fact, I may have sown the seeds of destruction through desperation one fateful day. Eh... Whatever. That was way back, even before I ran away and into the arms of Juliette. Very bad now. Foiled, yet again. Too much of this will force me to cross into angry territory without a respite. 0837. The day is all mine, for whatever that may be worth. Aside from the routine, I'm not certain of the best path. I do have some laundry and dry cleaning, which means I can spend a little time in the emprie to keep an ear on the machines, but working out there may not be good today. I am still feeling the effects of being up and down the ladders for hours yesterday. I'll fifure something out soon, I guess. Everything is vapor. I certainly hope I appreciated those moments in the fold, all those years ago. Right now the entire period appears as mere seconds, even weeks with Andrea. Perhaps this condition is payment for enjoying happiness out of context, or at least too much of it. Weeks now feel line microseconds. 1047 and I just now heard a reference to a very difficult subject. The most difficult, actually, and during this particular episode of the fifth show, I honestly had never noticed until now. Wow. The only other reference of which I am familiar was way back thirty years ago within the sixth film. The creators took it upon themselves to incorporate a variation on the theme in question in the interest of humor. Of course. Isn't it always humor? Not to me. I had more respect ofr the fifth show prior to this incident, but alas my opinion is meaningless in the grand scheme of society, and that is anything 'funny' at the expense of 'whomever'. Well, I have to leave the show alone because I need it in the background sometimes. This is the only fucking franchise with which I can identify on a human level. The slip a few moments ago must be given a pass. There is simply no other choice if I am to continue watching into the future. The bottom line is even my love for science fiction is based upon what members of that same society have written and filmed. So sad. I lost faith in any understanding a very long time ago, and now one more little step south has only cemented my position. If you think about the scope of such a subject, who the fuck am I? No one. Disregarded. Alone, for all time. As I said... Very sad. This is another notch keeping me as far as possible out of a society with few feelings for the individual trials. Laundry almost finished, routine completely finished, and dry cleaning out of the way for this week. The single upside to this episode is Jolene. I can't even begin to describe what I've seen. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. And remember... The love is for her CHARACTER, and not the actor. I know nothing of the woman. And God damn fuck shit anyway, here comes the other beauty. A hole in my head. Oops... Wrong actor. Never mind. I wish I could vaporize certain parts of me. Maybe I'll order a pizza and sit here being miserable for the rest of the day. Why not? Will anything good happen? 0654. Saturday. Fifth show full of you-know-who, and the rest. Flags, etc. Yesterday turned out better than I had anticipated. Small items here and there, nothing more. I did a little more with the garage wiring, too. I'll probably continue it today after the routine and whatever else. I've been missing the camera. Maybe some shooting if I can find some subjects besides the television or models. Mostly I'll run wiring, I guess. Something I still enjoy. There is always room for improvement to my little empire. One of these days I'll feel it is good enough for Halloween or one of those evenings. I had everything lit last night for a little while just because I could. The light lingers late into the evening this time of year. Fifteen episodes into the second season means twelve or so more before she appears in the softer, less restricting outfit and with more hair. My eyes will probably fall out of their sockets as the desire to swallow her peaks. Twelve episodes. Maybe by Monday if I keep switching between programs from day to evening. I already saw the one in which she wears a white catsuit, but the new everyday uniform begnning with the third season is the clincher, especially orange. Good God (yes, that's just what the Hebrews thought). I may as well stop now because this won't be getting better anytime soon. The key to all this shit about Jolene is the fact that when I see her with a soft expression -- like an emotional conversation or when she is being more sensitive -- I see in her eyes the possibility of understanding. Yes, that's what I said. I dream of her listening and knowing. The desire to simply hold a deep conversation far outweighs the desire to lick her skin. Believe it, because only one of those two is actually important. The orange uniform and change in hair is going to drive me insane with need, but I'm going to do it anyway. 0754. Morning business finished. I have a very short, simple routine today and zero laundry. There should be plenty of time for continuing my efforts in other areas. One aspect of yesterday I failed to mention is that I decided to finally sort the truck hardware which has been languishing in a parts box for more than a decade. Likely more than a thousand individual pieces of hardware all mixed together. It's been on my mind for a while but I never really felt like getting into such sorting. Well, yesterday I ran out of gas with the wiring for a while and sat there with some empty drawers in the larger cabinets. So... No sooner did I begin separating different fasteners when my brain became flooded with memories of designing and building the truck throughout the course of nearly twenty years. In fact, the original frame rails -- the first two parts I machined from raw material -- were made during the holiday break, 2002. This coming Christmas season will be two decades and that fact depresses the shit out of me. Not only the passage of time and the gradient between where I wanted to be versus where I now reside, but the fact that every step accomplished or researched on that most complex of vehicles took place in each place I've lived. Living rooms, garages, whatever. Nearly twenty years of memories attached to more than I can possibly describe right now all poured over me while sorting the fasteners. Marvelous. Just what I needed atop my depression sundae already dripping with regrets. Every time I made a change in the appearance or material of a certain piece of hardware, I was in a different town. I did not finish the sorting by any means, but a start is better than nothing. I had to empty a few drawers in the other cabinets, too. That means shit going into the trash, some of which has traveled with me since the late nineties, believe it or not. Little parts that seemed like they may come in handy sometime in the future. Well, a few have, but mostly that stuff just moved from place to place and followed me. Sorting all that truck hardware means I can clean out areas which have been overlooked for years. The only upside. I wish I had taken better pictures back then Unfortunately, the memories really hit me in the face yesterday and nearly had me curled up on the sofa after feeling so fucking bad. Not only that, but the subject has now taken over this entry due to so many aspects having been completely vaporized. Damn it. Not a good morning. No one is listening. Everything is gone. All I have is the hardware. 0847. I should do my work. Anything to get some of this shit out of my head for a while. Thoughts from the last two days, as well. I need to be distracted like never before. Sorting the materials yesterday brought me all the way back to my original inspiration for building the truck -- meaning those years in the trailer -- up to and including the last few steps which were rather ridiculous, like disc brakes and larger wheels to contain the calipers. I went nuts with the design, hit a wall with the drive, and then basically gave up. I ordered the display case roughly two years ago and now the truck sits there. At night the LEDs above the chassis light up my accomplishments and illuminate loss at the same time. Other people have still marveled at the way it looks and all of the work I did, but I don't see that stuff anymore. I see time burned away. I have to get up and work pretty quick or the entire day will go to hell. 1013 and my routine is finished. Still the fifth show up there, and I've been marveling at some of the guest stars, most notably Hertzler. That guy was a science fiction industry. Heh. Ignore the 'heh'. I am not happy. The next couple of hours will be quiet, or whatever I make of them. After? I don't know. Maybe I'll go back to sorting the hardware. I'm already pissed off and depressed, may as well further the efforts. Hertzler, like many other guest stars who have made an enormous impact upon me throughout the years, will be forever up there on the screen. A legacy. On the contrary, I will continue to decline. My interest and dreams of the film industry did not come to pass, and I still don't even know if they could have gone anywhere because I never took a step beyond speaking with a sound engineer and gaining some points of contact. I sat still out of fear. I respect the work he performed with distinction. My path was to be behind the camera, honestly, so I would not have been one of the names people typically recall. The actors are the hood ornaments of the industry. Those in the background -- whatever the role in production -- often go by the wayside due to people's focus upon those on the screen. Many do not think about the people who actually created what we watch as entertainment. Well, I do, but that is likely due to being moved so deeply by the stories and everything else. I don't even know why I brought this up. Maybe being so down is pushing everything I never did to the forefront again. I sit here day after day and feel like a hole in the world. During my tenure at NASA, I was on many television documentaries and news broadcasts. Now I am invisible. I couldn't even get the truck to move on its own. I saw a little too much the other day and have been deciding whether or not putting the incident here is a good idea. Well, the whole affair will be unclear, anyway, so the point is moot. I simply saw two things that would have been better left out of my vision. Ooh-fa, Sunday morning at 0652 and I am just now sipping the first of the coffee. I had to go to the market this morning for cream, and as usual that same guy was there in the only open checkout lane with his typical Sunday-billion groceries. I planned to get there earlier, but I guess not quite early enough. After seven there are more and more shoppers, so six is about the right time. Instead of dashing through and grabbing my stuff, I decided to cruise and browse a little, effectively eliminating what would have been a lot of time standing in line. In fact, I saw a pair of legs in line when I entered the store, and after shopping around for a bit she was still waiting. Heh. Anyway, sometimes I just feel it's a lot to do before my first swallow of coffee. The legs turned out to be a whack job, too. No worries there. I furthered the wiring in the empire yesterday and then helped the neighbor work on his bike for a while. I had thought the evening was going to turn into a bit of an occasion, but I guess everything dried up and no one arrived. I ended up shutting down the system just after dinner. By that point I didn't care, anyway, but it's always nice to see my work glowing out there. Other occasions will come along soon enough. The wiring was partly for future expansion. I removed the neon sign over the window and cleaned up the area a bit so it looks neater than it has for the last several years. There was too much crap hanging from the light frame and the entire side of the garage was beginning to resemble a sideways yard sale. I am going to continue slimming the number of items on that side, which is also above my work bench. Rather like simplifying, I suppose. I'll have to get more LED drivers in order to build two or more new canopies, but honestly after that I will probably focus upon other ways of either simplifiying the space or decorating. The lighting has a limit. I did find a site from Canada which sells individual components just as those I've purchased as kits in the past. Considering the new power supply and bridging wire, I can do almost anything out there now. The only rub is that I can't have the empire too busy or too bright, so as I said, the limit must be respected. I would like the space to appear 'classic', and not insane. Subdued is the word, I suppose. The symbol going over the window will not be subdued, although it will be a pencil drawing and not as striking as the other three. 0749 and my second cup. I suppose the rest of the morning will be similar to most Sundays, with the routine and my garbage preparations, and then whatever seems interesting (or with the ability to keep my head on straight). I do enjoy organizing the refrigerator and garage on Sundays, too. A matter of control? Probably. I think that word creeps into more parts of my life than I realize, the site being at the top of the list. In any case, the work can be fulfilling to a point. Moreover, and for whatever reason, the last two mornings of heading out to the garage after my usual routine have found me feeling more 'empowered' than in quite some time. I put the word in quotes because it must be tempered or toned-down these days. For me, feeling empowered is not what it once was, nor can I claim to actually feel power. Whatever... I don't know why, but it could be the idea that I still maintain nearly full control of my time and scheduling, something of which I need remain mindful every day. Sometimes I lose track of the idea as a result of so much difficulty inside. At least when the knowledge that I have the days all to myself does lapse and return, the result is a very good feeling. This could be the main reasoning behind the empowerment. I hope it carries on throughout this day. I need something. The fact that I pointed out legs in the market is a good indication that there are processes inside which do not cease. Always looking, constant searching. That elusive 'understanding' behind the right pair of eyes will not leave me alone. I glanced at the legs and the memories of those of the past returned, if only for a few seconds. This episode of the fifth show has enough shots of Jolene's enormous eyes in varying, very feeling expressions for me to know that I have not improved one iota, and in fact may be further into the delusion than ever. The legs were a symptom. The understanding has vaporized, but I am so weak and desperate that my mind will not let go of the dream. Even the current scene lacking Jolene has its share of problems. The server with her slender shoulders and breasts pushing a silk blouse reminds me of seeing Juliette behind the teller line all those years ago, and right on the heels of the server returning to the bar was another fucking uncredited sight to her immediate left, all dark and alluring. Basket case. Always something. Always searching. Juliette vaporized herself that one day, teary-eyed and gorgeous. Door slam. Maybe that was the door to my hopes. Andrea's heels on the marble floor of the Venetian. The Raven's death. The 16-inch, two-stage combustion shock tunnel All the more reason to delude myself in the empire. Sometimes I light it in the evening when nothing else is going on just to head out there after dinner and wash myself in all of the color. The bartender is stunning, even when she's pissed off. Ugh... Anyway, I had everything on last night and did not shut it down until nearly ten. Hope? Eh... Not really. The imagery out there is like a statment of my dissatisfaction and loss in life. When it is on, passers by see a mood. Quite the bad mood, for sure. I'll be out there later when the sun is warm. More crap into the trash, more of the hedge into the compost, and more effort toward the appearance I so badly need wrapped around me. Why four images of the HFFAF, you ask? Lots of ablation and vaporization took place in that facility, some most notably during my tenure. Sometimes stopping an 80-gram projectile traveling through a vacuum at more than 16000ft/S is nearly impossible. If one of the models went even slightly off course, the damage to the facility could be extensive. The model was not the only part of a test that became vaporized. I think some of my dreams were shot through the test section and similarly destroyed. Not funny. Most of this episode is sans Jolene, thank fucking Christ. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I am later than usual, too. The trip to the store this morning slowed my schedule, but alas everything is up to me nearly all of the time. Ah... There she was. I could live an entire life in those eyes. I love her. She has more battleship in her eyes than almost any others. Shut up. 0847. Even though the bartender's breasts and shoulders are stunning, I can't keep my eyes off Keith Carradine because he was fucking AWESOME, as was the rest of his acting family. They are very nearly all gone now. So sad. At least they accomplished something more than a bunch of fucking lights and shit in a garage. Oh, and a massive, complex and very expensive truck that never moved on its own. Last cup of coffee and then I'll slowly get the routine finished. I do not have the house to myself at all today, although such a fact will not change the way I care for everything. I have a certain way about the work which is never altered, no matter the circumstances. The familiarity and background comfort are necessary more than ever. Jolene is wearing a white outfit now. Oof, that means the third season is not far off. Anyway, today should prove just fine if I can keep my head out of the din (or her fucking pants) and focus. The pants have possibly more power now than they have ever had over me. I just can't believe it sometimes. Now she's in a tank top and shorts for the decontamination chamber. Jesus. I've not felt this much desire for her before. One glimpse of her shorts and I am worthless. Whomever or whatever made her broke the mold. Damn it... I was speaking of this day. Dumb shit. I am so fucking depressed these days that I may as well sit out there later and sort more hardware. I'm already half in the fuckin' ground, anyway. Why not drink and let it swallow me, right? I have little else in this life. Jolaimora, remember? One of three, as the Borg might say. Jolai-fuckin-mora. Jesus fucking Harold Christ on a rubber crutch... She was walking in the tank top with breasts bouncing all over the place. I can't take much more of this today. Moreover, I just created the next entry title referring to how I would relate to Jolene in reality. She would run away. And now Robert O'fuckin Reilly and his incredible voice. I. Fucking. Love. Him. I'm losing it this morning. The coffee is waning and I have to move along with the day. Hopefully I can get the shit out of my head by way of keeping busy. I can begin drawing the latest mural and maybe build the two canopies for lighting it. I already have the wiring in place, too. 1104 and half the routine is finished, albeit the more taxing half. I need to keep the house quiet for the time being. The additional LED strips and power plugs are ordered, so after the second half of my routine is finished I can head to the garage and build canopies. All morning long I have images of desire swirling through me as if some external force is disallowing comfort. On a Sunday, this is unacceptable. I'll have to push myself through the shit and hopefully come out the other side in better shape. The booze has been flowing since before 10. I also straightened up the mess left from yesterday's work so my garage is in order again. The image of Jolene's form has been following me all around the house. I can't get her out of my head as of yet, damn it all. But one certainty keeps nagging at my consciousness, and that is my future appears black. The dreaming and yearning shall not end anytime soon, if at all. Not good. The more desperation I feel, the more solid my stance. 'Bad mood' doesn't even scratch the surface anymore. If not for the change in schedule, I'd have the routine finished and be on to larger concerns. This is likely the only lack of control that must be dealt with. Overall, not too much for me. Soon enough this schedule will revert to the norm and I will be back to enjoying the freedom of controlling my time. Ever closer to the third season. I am anticipating a difficult path through the next two. Jolene is rising. Jolaimora... Jolene was first even when I initially created such a portmanteau. I want to absolutely devour her body, but even moreso I need the simplicity of her understanding. Further down. More impossibility. Crippling desperation. Unending depression. I don't even know how I am still alive. The volume level of music in the garage later will put off anyone strolling by. Trust me. My display of evil shall vaporize any wishes to be closer to this piece of property. I remember Nancy from high school, one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen -- to this day I can see her smiling -- and my one-time visit to her door. Nearby was a house wrapped in storm fencing and displaying multiple dishes and antennae. I inquired of what it represented, and Nancy replied that he was the paranoid conspiricist of the neighborhood, and that no one ever went to his front door. Well, I am beginning to feel like the outcast here, honestly. On those occasions in which my empire is lit, I've seen people on their evening walks and looking toward what I've built with much apprehension. I suppose the lack of fencing and anything displayed on the outside of the house keeps me from the level of whomever lived in that house near Nancy. Good and bad. And the third season has begun... Jolene's outfit and hair have improved. I am now left to dream even more for situations that are fucking IMPOSSIBLE. If those people walking by only knew... The garage is nothing when held against the sheer forces inside my broken head. Evil, sans actions. Holy Jesus fucking God in Heaven or wherever... Jolene. I DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING WORDS. WHY DID I HAVE TO DEVELOP IN SUCH A MANNER? ANSWER ME. Evil incarnate. Again... Sans actions, thank the maker. But I am powerless. 0653 on Monday. She is on vacation this week, so no house to myself for a while. No big deal. I broke out of the norm yesterday and blew up the garage while working on my latest mural. That really had the drawing flowing better than I had anticipated when beginning the outline. More LEDs and associated electronics are on the way. I'll be spending some decent time out there this week. Last night when I went out to grab the flags, the empire was lit and appeared to glow, just as I had hoped. From the end of the driveway or sidewalk areas, some detail is lost, yet the point is seeing everything as it should be, up close. Whatever... My preference is different than what you may believe. The drawing I began yesterday will be furthered later this morning. Orthogonal photo stations along the test section We went on a mission yesterday for cigarettes and an inexpensive lunch. And I mean inexpensive, as in cheaper than my typical bar tab without even having food. Now I remember why I shied away from this program for many months while watching other distractions. Jolene's hair color, more feeling eyes and outfit have been working together and showing me what is actually possible with levels of beauty I'll never understand. The more I look at her facial expressions, the more I feel for her character, and then everything in my life is offset that much further toward the negative. I cannot help but stare and dream that she is a part of the machine, those huge eyes there for me constantly, as if the whole world was created by some force capable of the same dramatic wonder. I don't understand why nothing appears in so many places, when such vast loveliness can be omnipresent within a single face, thus outweighing all other possible levels of beauty. I just don't get it. Rather like those shots of Jamie smiling... A universe of beauty wrapped up in a single person while the remainder of the world becomes more bland than raw flower mixed with deionized water. Not vanilla... Much worse. The whole world. Everything. And then she is up there expressing more emotion in a single glance than an army of faces working to convey a lifetime of experiences. I don't understand and probably never will. I'll just keep staring, dreaming and falling below floor level over and over and over. I should not be watching this show, especially during the last two seasons. This is very bad for me. Right now Jolene is wearing purple. I prefer the orange. She is more beautiful than everything else in the world, combined. Even in the purple. I wanted to place an image of her character here, yet nothing really gets the point across to the level I need. Context is everything. Context is EVERYTHING. Repeat. The more weak and desperate I become, the more of my life becomes vaporized, and the more I push toward the anger that has been inside since eleven. Hence the empire. This is all I am to be for the remainder of life. Yesterday while out there beyond the property line, I was again searching. There was nothing to be found, not even in the restaurant. I thought there may have been something in the cigarette store, but she turned out to be more person and less beauty. From there to the coffee shop where a large group of developmentally disabled individuals were enjoying an outing, and then to the big home improvement store for a chair and some various electrical items for my empire. Unfortunately, the chairs have gone up in price dramatically in the last six months or so. I ended up grabbing nothing more than some boxes and connectors. There was nothing to see in that store, either. Very good. Back home to my chores and then relaxation. Rarely does anything move me. Most of the time I am fascinated, nothing more. The battleship eyes are a good point of reference, yet I cannot fully explain all of the processes at work inside me while staring because they relate to that damaging dream. That shit must remain under wraps. The point is that the television or still imagery are the only avenues to really being floored by something. Society carries much, much less. The desire related to the battleship eyes was powerful, meaning my future is most likely already written. The vulpine power was present in her. Prowess, somewhat. Lots of power, though. There is no point in my dwelling on her for very long because you and I probably both know that my ability to relate to another person has diminished too much. Every circumstance over the last ten-plus years has caused my sensitivity to peak and the desire to grow nearly beyond even my control. All those situations... Vaporized. Gone. As the months roll underneath my wheels this year, I am beginning to wonder of it was all just a dream. Hard to believe sometimes. Very hard to believe. I think the passage of time has forced me to grow into a person that will be limited forever. Limited to only so much. I know the dreaming at night as it relates to beauty is out of desperation. I know that damaging dream that I cannot discuss is growing both in importance and need, a situation I will NEVER be able to discuss with another human being, no matter the understanding. Believe me when I say there is more left out of this content than I can possibly describe. My state of mind has become so bad that almost everything I wish to place here for analysis must remain absent. Yes... THAT bad. I don't even know how to describe my feelings anymore. And now there she is in the orange outfit. The beltline and fabric seams create an image I've not seen since watching Andrea waddle her rear end through the halls of the Polynesian. At least at that time when my desire hit a high point I was able to tell her, after which those smooth pants were peeled off so I could be satiated. So sad. Now all I have is Jolene up there filling my head with impossible dreams. Too much damage over the course of too many years... Broken into pieces. I wish I could vaporize myself. When I see her walk I can't decide whether to simply gaze and enjoy or gouge my eyes out so the pain can diminish. Now I know how some of those characters on television or in film became full of 'worship' for another person, effectively sending the relationship so far out of balance that nothing could work. Severely heeled over, I am. The keel will not swing down. Today... Hmm... Now 0752 and my routine will be minimal because of the late lunch yesterday. I did not cook dinner, nor will I be doing it tonight due to a gathering at her parents' house this afternoon. As usual, I really don't want to go over there but it will be fine. Once arriving home afterward, I'll feel much better and probably accomplished. Everything is a fucking trial these days. The reward is all that interests me, though. I don't care about seeing others or what they want or need. I don't have the inclination to focus upon anyone else because the effort in keeping myself upright is more than enough to tax my mind and body. I think I can get there and back without serious issue. I've already done it several times in the last two years. Right now my world is stable, for lack fo a better term. The days are quiet, the work is never too much, and the time relaxing is still fine. I'm sure none of this will change in the short term. The largest benefit to being here all the time is having enough space to think. That may sound strange, but the truth is being out all the time meant there was little time to process anything, from some errant beauty on the sidewalk to the jobs we visited and on to shopping or visiting the bar during the afternoons. Now there are less opportunities to see those problems and much more space to consider everything and how it may affect me. Stability here is very important right now. The orange outfit forms her rear end into two circles -- a light seam up the center -- and the material is form-fitting but also with enough 'give' for her movements to appear natural rather than forced. The Raven appeared similar, although She preferred denim. The goddess was close, as well. Andrea had two circles. Damn. Maybe I should switch programs. Another paragraph gone by the wayside because I can't keep my eyes from being attached to Jolene's fucking ass. Splendid. God damn, her eyes are huge. I want to live in them. Or maybe just lick her pants for a while. 0807 and I am all over the map again. The beauty and resulting thoughts are removing any ability to concentrate this morning. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore so I just keep sitting here day in and day out, typing whatever comes to mind and seeing precisely zero improvement. Quite the reverse... Down, down, and down some more. I'm sure the day will move along fine, with me yearning and dreaming like always, and forming yet another symbol for the empire that no one will understand. Maybe I don't understand, either. Maybe I don't know anything because all of the good, useful and helpful parts of me have been burned away in favor of dark dreams and weak needs. Maybe I am half of what I once was, a half which has been shoved in a box with only enough space for thought. Maybe whatever ruined me did it for good reason. Once destroyed, I can't make any bad decisions or hurt anyone's feelings. The bad in me must be vaporized. Yeah, maybe that's it. Her." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Vaporization Mature content No. 314 Published May 23rd, 2022 8:16am pdt read ( words) Past entries "We are so fucking far past the ablation that there cannot be recombination. Not at all. None. Vapor, for as long as it lasts. Holy Jesus fucking God on a purple rubber crutch, this scene makes my head twist in half. Good Christ, what I am seeing must be from another fucking planet, or at least some alternate, parallel universe. She is something else, yet most of the time the key lines and radii are absent or otherwise obscured by way of clothing or some other means. But there? On the screen? Too much to describe. The sight actually causes physical pain of a type I cannot begin to describe, nor can I describe her. She is unique, unreal, unrelenting, and unbelievable. Not a fucking detail which does not scream at me. And then Linda crawling? Right on the heels of the scene of a lifetime? Fuck me running. I can't handle it. Time for a big sip of vodka and a damned smoke. 1101 on the same day the previous entry was published and I am destroyed. The 'passion' -- that timepiece slash work of art embodying every single fucking interest I have ever embraced and all rolled into the most beautiful and wondrous mechanical package on earth -- remains at a distant second. The one possession that moved me more than anything else in history was the Slipper, and that precious beauty is fucking THIRD. Basket case. Fucking depressed like never before, not even the shit period of eleven. 1120 and I feel like doing something else. 1633 and boy is the weather warm. I had no idea the mercury would rise quite so much in one day. Wow. Anyway, I took care of some housework and dry cleaning, and then moved to the empire to see what I need to prepare for when the wire and power supply arrive. So far, not a big deal. I did see a very tall, thin woman strolling behind her son on a bicycle. She had to have been taller than me. Geez. Always something, but whatever. I'll be slowing down for the remainder of the afternoon due to the house being so warm. Maybe just computer work and my show. Seeing as how all my hopes and dreams have been vaporized, I may as well do something unrelated to beauty. 'She' will still be in my head, however. No ridding myself of that one. 0629 on Thursday morning. The woman with my cousin's name, up on the screen, again. Fuck me. The flags are out and cats have had breakfast. And now the white catsuit in the desert sand. The thoughts in my head are very bad, but also good. I need to see her sometimes and evaluate my condition throughout the passage of time. Two years ago I brought her to this site and typed her name. Since then -- including up to this sentence -- there have been 212 occurrences of Jolene. I believe at some point I equated her name to my cousin and then felt more for her than I had in the past. Twenty-plus years ago when this series first aired, I don't recall watching. I only remember seeing some episodes during the 1236 period and after I had traded our older television for high-definition. Back then, her face was not the emotional wonderland that I see up there this morning, although her performance has not been altered... I have. The point of this is I've been staring at Jolene on and off for a very long time, and then began bringing her up within this content two years back. As a reference, and combined with going back to those essays and re-reading my own words from the beginning of the pandemic, I can learn of just how much I have changed since being home all the time. My feelings for Jolene and a few other characters have definitely increased in strength. And that increase is likely directly proportionate to the desperation I feel almost hourly. 0858, last of the coffee. I've finished half of the routine and placed the metal recycling at the curb. Garage is open for business. Eh... More work. 1043 and everything is finished. I went back out to the little empire and grabbed more metal leftovers to send to the recycle. It's all out on the driveway awaiting pickup. In addition, I was able to download the musical passages from the Empire show. The entire 23-track composition has been playing over the big MDRs. Right now, in fact. One track in particular will be idea for background music on Halloween. Very mysterious, that one. The music came over during Cleopatra's seduction of Caesar just yesterday while watching the show. Awesome. I may have to delve into the dragon music, too. Such drama would be ideal for the scary night, which I plan to make even more scarier than last year. The demon night, for sure. The empire will be lit red and orange, and with such dark and dramatic music playing, the night should prove splendid. Last year I had the scary music from my favorite game -- a disc now more than twenty-five years old, mind you -- and some of the children did not wish to approach my garage without an adult escort. Heh. This year I shall push further. Less than five months away. The empire is the one aspect of my life which has yet to vaporize, and the only part of living over which I enjoy complete control. Remember that word? All my crap is spread across the work bench awaiting inspiration. I fully intend to get out there in a little while and make some cable assemblies for lighting the lower half of the newest mural, plus I can power every strip of LEDs from the same source with room for future expansion. I purposely grabbed a power supply grossly oversized just in case more ideas come to light. In fact, I already have a plan to remove the neon sign from over the east window and create a large symbol on the wood backing. Years ago I added the wood over the window in order to cut the sunlight during mornings. There is but one third of the glass visible now. Plenty of room for a hand-drawn pentacle from my past which resembles wood grain on sight. Lots of symbolism out there these days, none of which will attract the squareheads. Very good. I don't need any voodoo in my life. Well, at least nothing north of where I now reside. When I tabulated the number of occurrences of Jolene's name on the site, I inadvertently found a reminder that two years ago I had been mixing 'Jaime' and 'Jamie'. Funny. They could not be more different. Just a thought. 0635, Friday morning. Flags, cats, coffee, the usual. I have a little while before the morning stuff. After? I plan to take it easy a little. Yesterday I ran some tests and rewired part of the empire's lighting system, after which I transferred two of my speakers to the neighbor's garage and ran wiring for both power and the antenna. That was a chore and left my back all fucked up for the rest of the evening. So, today I may just work inside again and chip away at the small items. My back will probably thank me later. The sun is already shining, so whatever is the most comfortable work today will take priority. I need something productive to keep the bad thoughts at bay. All that gushing about Jolene and her shape yesterday was indicative of my inner condition. Not a fucking day passes that I do not see vapor behind me. The first time I went after the darkness and outside the norm of daily, 'expected' life was thirty-four years ago. The inkling has not left because something happened which began to require a different type of understanding and communication, and there has been but a handful of occasions thus far. Such thinking and recollection are beginning to send my head into different places, one of which I am not accustomed. Worry over what someone may be thinking of me. And yes, I realize how ridiculous that may sound after years of bitching regarding society. I can't help but head in such a direction these days because of all I've done wrong. The way I feel about myself shall be left out because it is constantly changing and I'm tired of trying to keep pace. Stay the fuck out And now we have the episode that many disliked because they felt the female guest star was rather 'wooden' as an actor. They should be looking past her ability (which I believe is appropriate to the story) and begin staring at what an amazing work of art the woman really is. Maybe I am the only person who will think in such terms. I don't know. She hails from the Middle East, is very dark and quite tall, and her eyes are huge and go on forever. Absolutely stunningly gorgeous from any angle, especially when there is an argument between her and the other actor. Her face appears slightly miffed and fucking cuter than I can describe. Maybe I'll place an image of her from the modeling career on this entry or the next. Holy shit is she ever beautiful. The situation is bad, as usual. Everything up in smoke, so to say. I remember back during the major Asian fetish, a coworker of mine who was a hybrid and close to me was always interested in hearing about what I was thinking. I pictured all sorts of stuff back then, too. With her, mostly. I had hopes of something... Anything with the ability to pull me from the din and provide some escape from what I felt was mundane (in reality, I was far from living a mundane life, but did not see it). Nothing ever developed. In fact, I may have sown the seeds of destruction through desperation one fateful day. Eh... Whatever. That was way back, even before I ran away and into the arms of Juliette. Very bad now. Foiled, yet again. Too much of this will force me to cross into angry territory without a respite. 0837. The day is all mine, for whatever that may be worth. Aside from the routine, I'm not certain of the best path. I do have some laundry and dry cleaning, which means I can spend a little time in the emprie to keep an ear on the machines, but working out there may not be good today. I am still feeling the effects of being up and down the ladders for hours yesterday. I'll fifure something out soon, I guess. Everything is vapor. I certainly hope I appreciated those moments in the fold, all those years ago. Right now the entire period appears as mere seconds, even weeks with Andrea. Perhaps this condition is payment for enjoying happiness out of context, or at least too much of it. Weeks now feel line microseconds. 1047 and I just now heard a reference to a very difficult subject. The most difficult, actually, and during this particular episode of the fifth show, I honestly had never noticed until now. Wow. The only other reference of which I am familiar was way back thirty years ago within the sixth film. The creators took it upon themselves to incorporate a variation on the theme in question in the interest of humor. Of course. Isn't it always humor? Not to me. I had more respect ofr the fifth show prior to this incident, but alas my opinion is meaningless in the grand scheme of society, and that is anything 'funny' at the expense of 'whomever'. Well, I have to leave the show alone because I need it in the background sometimes. This is the only fucking franchise with which I can identify on a human level. The slip a few moments ago must be given a pass. There is simply no other choice if I am to continue watching into the future. The bottom line is even my love for science fiction is based upon what members of that same society have written and filmed. So sad. I lost faith in any understanding a very long time ago, and now one more little step south has only cemented my position. If you think about the scope of such a subject, who the fuck am I? No one. Disregarded. Alone, for all time. As I said... Very sad. This is another notch keeping me as far as possible out of a society with few feelings for the individual trials. Laundry almost finished, routine completely finished, and dry cleaning out of the way for this week. The single upside to this episode is Jolene. I can't even begin to describe what I've seen. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. And remember... The love is for her CHARACTER, and not the actor. I know nothing of the woman. And God damn fuck shit anyway, here comes the other beauty. A hole in my head. Oops... Wrong actor. Never mind. I wish I could vaporize certain parts of me. Maybe I'll order a pizza and sit here being miserable for the rest of the day. Why not? Will anything good happen? 0654. Saturday. Fifth show full of you-know-who, and the rest. Flags, etc. Yesterday turned out better than I had anticipated. Small items here and there, nothing more. I did a little more with the garage wiring, too. I'll probably continue it today after the routine and whatever else. I've been missing the camera. Maybe some shooting if I can find some subjects besides the television or models. Mostly I'll run wiring, I guess. Something I still enjoy. There is always room for improvement to my little empire. One of these days I'll feel it is good enough for Halloween or one of those evenings. I had everything lit last night for a little while just because I could. The light lingers late into the evening this time of year. Fifteen episodes into the second season means twelve or so more before she appears in the softer, less restricting outfit and with more hair. My eyes will probably fall out of their sockets as the desire to swallow her peaks. Twelve episodes. Maybe by Monday if I keep switching between programs from day to evening. I already saw the one in which she wears a white catsuit, but the new everyday uniform begnning with the third season is the clincher, especially orange. Good God (yes, that's just what the Hebrews thought). I may as well stop now because this won't be getting better anytime soon. The key to all this shit about Jolene is the fact that when I see her with a soft expression -- like an emotional conversation or when she is being more sensitive -- I see in her eyes the possibility of understanding. Yes, that's what I said. I dream of her listening and knowing. The desire to simply hold a deep conversation far outweighs the desire to lick her skin. Believe it, because only one of those two is actually important. The orange uniform and change in hair is going to drive me insane with need, but I'm going to do it anyway. 0754. Morning business finished. I have a very short, simple routine today and zero laundry. There should be plenty of time for continuing my efforts in other areas. One aspect of yesterday I failed to mention is that I decided to finally sort the truck hardware which has been languishing in a parts box for more than a decade. Likely more than a thousand individual pieces of hardware all mixed together. It's been on my mind for a while but I never really felt like getting into such sorting. Well, yesterday I ran out of gas with the wiring for a while and sat there with some empty drawers in the larger cabinets. So... No sooner did I begin separating different fasteners when my brain became flooded with memories of designing and building the truck throughout the course of nearly twenty years. In fact, the original frame rails -- the first two parts I machined from raw material -- were made during the holiday break, 2002. This coming Christmas season will be two decades and that fact depresses the shit out of me. Not only the passage of time and the gradient between where I wanted to be versus where I now reside, but the fact that every step accomplished or researched on that most complex of vehicles took place in each place I've lived. Living rooms, garages, whatever. Nearly twenty years of memories attached to more than I can possibly describe right now all poured over me while sorting the fasteners. Marvelous. Just what I needed atop my depression sundae already dripping with regrets. Every time I made a change in the appearance or material of a certain piece of hardware, I was in a different town. I did not finish the sorting by any means, but a start is better than nothing. I had to empty a few drawers in the other cabinets, too. That means shit going into the trash, some of which has traveled with me since the late nineties, believe it or not. Little parts that seemed like they may come in handy sometime in the future. Well, a few have, but mostly that stuff just moved from place to place and followed me. Sorting all that truck hardware means I can clean out areas which have been overlooked for years. The only upside. I wish I had taken better pictures back then Unfortunately, the memories really hit me in the face yesterday and nearly had me curled up on the sofa after feeling so fucking bad. Not only that, but the subject has now taken over this entry due to so many aspects having been completely vaporized. Damn it. Not a good morning. No one is listening. Everything is gone. All I have is the hardware. 0847. I should do my work. Anything to get some of this shit out of my head for a while. Thoughts from the last two days, as well. I need to be distracted like never before. Sorting the materials yesterday brought me all the way back to my original inspiration for building the truck -- meaning those years in the trailer -- up to and including the last few steps which were rather ridiculous, like disc brakes and larger wheels to contain the calipers. I went nuts with the design, hit a wall with the drive, and then basically gave up. I ordered the display case roughly two years ago and now the truck sits there. At night the LEDs above the chassis light up my accomplishments and illuminate loss at the same time. Other people have still marveled at the way it looks and all of the work I did, but I don't see that stuff anymore. I see time burned away. I have to get up and work pretty quick or the entire day will go to hell. 1013 and my routine is finished. Still the fifth show up there, and I've been marveling at some of the guest stars, most notably Hertzler. That guy was a science fiction industry. Heh. Ignore the 'heh'. I am not happy. The next couple of hours will be quiet, or whatever I make of them. After? I don't know. Maybe I'll go back to sorting the hardware. I'm already pissed off and depressed, may as well further the efforts. Hertzler, like many other guest stars who have made an enormous impact upon me throughout the years, will be forever up there on the screen. A legacy. On the contrary, I will continue to decline. My interest and dreams of the film industry did not come to pass, and I still don't even know if they could have gone anywhere because I never took a step beyond speaking with a sound engineer and gaining some points of contact. I sat still out of fear. I respect the work he performed with distinction. My path was to be behind the camera, honestly, so I would not have been one of the names people typically recall. The actors are the hood ornaments of the industry. Those in the background -- whatever the role in production -- often go by the wayside due to people's focus upon those on the screen. Many do not think about the people who actually created what we watch as entertainment. Well, I do, but that is likely due to being moved so deeply by the stories and everything else. I don't even know why I brought this up. Maybe being so down is pushing everything I never did to the forefront again. I sit here day after day and feel like a hole in the world. During my tenure at NASA, I was on many television documentaries and news broadcasts. Now I am invisible. I couldn't even get the truck to move on its own. I saw a little too much the other day and have been deciding whether or not putting the incident here is a good idea. Well, the whole affair will be unclear, anyway, so the point is moot. I simply saw two things that would have been better left out of my vision. Ooh-fa, Sunday morning at 0652 and I am just now sipping the first of the coffee. I had to go to the market this morning for cream, and as usual that same guy was there in the only open checkout lane with his typical Sunday-billion groceries. I planned to get there earlier, but I guess not quite early enough. After seven there are more and more shoppers, so six is about the right time. Instead of dashing through and grabbing my stuff, I decided to cruise and browse a little, effectively eliminating what would have been a lot of time standing in line. In fact, I saw a pair of legs in line when I entered the store, and after shopping around for a bit she was still waiting. Heh. Anyway, sometimes I just feel it's a lot to do before my first swallow of coffee. The legs turned out to be a whack job, too. No worries there. I furthered the wiring in the empire yesterday and then helped the neighbor work on his bike for a while. I had thought the evening was going to turn into a bit of an occasion, but I guess everything dried up and no one arrived. I ended up shutting down the system just after dinner. By that point I didn't care, anyway, but it's always nice to see my work glowing out there. Other occasions will come along soon enough. The wiring was partly for future expansion. I removed the neon sign over the window and cleaned up the area a bit so it looks neater than it has for the last several years. There was too much crap hanging from the light frame and the entire side of the garage was beginning to resemble a sideways yard sale. I am going to continue slimming the number of items on that side, which is also above my work bench. Rather like simplifying, I suppose. I'll have to get more LED drivers in order to build two or more new canopies, but honestly after that I will probably focus upon other ways of either simplifiying the space or decorating. The lighting has a limit. I did find a site from Canada which sells individual components just as those I've purchased as kits in the past. Considering the new power supply and bridging wire, I can do almost anything out there now. The only rub is that I can't have the empire too busy or too bright, so as I said, the limit must be respected. I would like the space to appear 'classic', and not insane. Subdued is the word, I suppose. The symbol going over the window will not be subdued, although it will be a pencil drawing and not as striking as the other three. 0749 and my second cup. I suppose the rest of the morning will be similar to most Sundays, with the routine and my garbage preparations, and then whatever seems interesting (or with the ability to keep my head on straight). I do enjoy organizing the refrigerator and garage on Sundays, too. A matter of control? Probably. I think that word creeps into more parts of my life than I realize, the site being at the top of the list. In any case, the work can be fulfilling to a point. Moreover, and for whatever reason, the last two mornings of heading out to the garage after my usual routine have found me feeling more 'empowered' than in quite some time. I put the word in quotes because it must be tempered or toned-down these days. For me, feeling empowered is not what it once was, nor can I claim to actually feel power. Whatever... I don't know why, but it could be the idea that I still maintain nearly full control of my time and scheduling, something of which I need remain mindful every day. Sometimes I lose track of the idea as a result of so much difficulty inside. At least when the knowledge that I have the days all to myself does lapse and return, the result is a very good feeling. This could be the main reasoning behind the empowerment. I hope it carries on throughout this day. I need something. The fact that I pointed out legs in the market is a good indication that there are processes inside which do not cease. Always looking, constant searching. That elusive 'understanding' behind the right pair of eyes will not leave me alone. I glanced at the legs and the memories of those of the past returned, if only for a few seconds. This episode of the fifth show has enough shots of Jolene's enormous eyes in varying, very feeling expressions for me to know that I have not improved one iota, and in fact may be further into the delusion than ever. The legs were a symptom. The understanding has vaporized, but I am so weak and desperate that my mind will not let go of the dream. Even the current scene lacking Jolene has its share of problems. The server with her slender shoulders and breasts pushing a silk blouse reminds me of seeing Juliette behind the teller line all those years ago, and right on the heels of the server returning to the bar was another fucking uncredited sight to her immediate left, all dark and alluring. Basket case. Always something. Always searching. Juliette vaporized herself that one day, teary-eyed and gorgeous. Door slam. Maybe that was the door to my hopes. Andrea's heels on the marble floor of the Venetian. The Raven's death. The 16-inch, two-stage combustion shock tunnel All the more reason to delude myself in the empire. Sometimes I light it in the evening when nothing else is going on just to head out there after dinner and wash myself in all of the color. The bartender is stunning, even when she's pissed off. Ugh... Anyway, I had everything on last night and did not shut it down until nearly ten. Hope? Eh... Not really. The imagery out there is like a statment of my dissatisfaction and loss in life. When it is on, passers by see a mood. Quite the bad mood, for sure. I'll be out there later when the sun is warm. More crap into the trash, more of the hedge into the compost, and more effort toward the appearance I so badly need wrapped around me. Why four images of the HFFAF, you ask? Lots of ablation and vaporization took place in that facility, some most notably during my tenure. Sometimes stopping an 80-gram projectile traveling through a vacuum at more than 16000ft/S is nearly impossible. If one of the models went even slightly off course, the damage to the facility could be extensive. The model was not the only part of a test that became vaporized. I think some of my dreams were shot through the test section and similarly destroyed. Not funny. Most of this episode is sans Jolene, thank fucking Christ. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I am later than usual, too. The trip to the store this morning slowed my schedule, but alas everything is up to me nearly all of the time. Ah... There she was. I could live an entire life in those eyes. I love her. She has more battleship in her eyes than almost any others. Shut up. 0847. Even though the bartender's breasts and shoulders are stunning, I can't keep my eyes off Keith Carradine because he was fucking AWESOME, as was the rest of his acting family. They are very nearly all gone now. So sad. At least they accomplished something more than a bunch of fucking lights and shit in a garage. Oh, and a massive, complex and very expensive truck that never moved on its own. Last cup of coffee and then I'll slowly get the routine finished. I do not have the house to myself at all today, although such a fact will not change the way I care for everything. I have a certain way about the work which is never altered, no matter the circumstances. The familiarity and background comfort are necessary more than ever. Jolene is wearing a white outfit now. Oof, that means the third season is not far off. Anyway, today should prove just fine if I can keep my head out of the din (or her fucking pants) and focus. The pants have possibly more power now than they have ever had over me. I just can't believe it sometimes. Now she's in a tank top and shorts for the decontamination chamber. Jesus. I've not felt this much desire for her before. One glimpse of her shorts and I am worthless. Whomever or whatever made her broke the mold. Damn it... I was speaking of this day. Dumb shit. I am so fucking depressed these days that I may as well sit out there later and sort more hardware. I'm already half in the fuckin' ground, anyway. Why not drink and let it swallow me, right? I have little else in this life. Jolaimora, remember? One of three, as the Borg might say. Jolai-fuckin-mora. Jesus fucking Harold Christ on a rubber crutch... She was walking in the tank top with breasts bouncing all over the place. I can't take much more of this today. Moreover, I just created the next entry title referring to how I would relate to Jolene in reality. She would run away. And now Robert O'fuckin Reilly and his incredible voice. I. Fucking. Love. Him. I'm losing it this morning. The coffee is waning and I have to move along with the day. Hopefully I can get the shit out of my head by way of keeping busy. I can begin drawing the latest mural and maybe build the two canopies for lighting it. I already have the wiring in place, too. 1104 and half the routine is finished, albeit the more taxing half. I need to keep the house quiet for the time being. The additional LED strips and power plugs are ordered, so after the second half of my routine is finished I can head to the garage and build canopies. All morning long I have images of desire swirling through me as if some external force is disallowing comfort. On a Sunday, this is unacceptable. I'll have to push myself through the shit and hopefully come out the other side in better shape. The booze has been flowing since before 10. I also straightened up the mess left from yesterday's work so my garage is in order again. The image of Jolene's form has been following me all around the house. I can't get her out of my head as of yet, damn it all. But one certainty keeps nagging at my consciousness, and that is my future appears black. The dreaming and yearning shall not end anytime soon, if at all. Not good. The more desperation I feel, the more solid my stance. 'Bad mood' doesn't even scratch the surface anymore. If not for the change in schedule, I'd have the routine finished and be on to larger concerns. This is likely the only lack of control that must be dealt with. Overall, not too much for me. Soon enough this schedule will revert to the norm and I will be back to enjoying the freedom of controlling my time. Ever closer to the third season. I am anticipating a difficult path through the next two. Jolene is rising. Jolaimora... Jolene was first even when I initially created such a portmanteau. I want to absolutely devour her body, but even moreso I need the simplicity of her understanding. Further down. More impossibility. Crippling desperation. Unending depression. I don't even know how I am still alive. The volume level of music in the garage later will put off anyone strolling by. Trust me. My display of evil shall vaporize any wishes to be closer to this piece of property. I remember Nancy from high school, one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen -- to this day I can see her smiling -- and my one-time visit to her door. Nearby was a house wrapped in storm fencing and displaying multiple dishes and antennae. I inquired of what it represented, and Nancy replied that he was the paranoid conspiricist of the neighborhood, and that no one ever went to his front door. Well, I am beginning to feel like the outcast here, honestly. On those occasions in which my empire is lit, I've seen people on their evening walks and looking toward what I've built with much apprehension. I suppose the lack of fencing and anything displayed on the outside of the house keeps me from the level of whomever lived in that house near Nancy. Good and bad. And the third season has begun... Jolene's outfit and hair have improved. I am now left to dream even more for situations that are fucking IMPOSSIBLE. If those people walking by only knew... The garage is nothing when held against the sheer forces inside my broken head. Evil, sans actions. Holy Jesus fucking God in Heaven or wherever... Jolene. I DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING WORDS. WHY DID I HAVE TO DEVELOP IN SUCH A MANNER? ANSWER ME. Evil incarnate. Again... Sans actions, thank the maker. But I am powerless. 0653 on Monday. She is on vacation this week, so no house to myself for a while. No big deal. I broke out of the norm yesterday and blew up the garage while working on my latest mural. That really had the drawing flowing better than I had anticipated when beginning the outline. More LEDs and associated electronics are on the way. I'll be spending some decent time out there this week. Last night when I went out to grab the flags, the empire was lit and appeared to glow, just as I had hoped. From the end of the driveway or sidewalk areas, some detail is lost, yet the point is seeing everything as it should be, up close. Whatever... My preference is different than what you may believe. The drawing I began yesterday will be furthered later this morning. Orthogonal photo stations along the test section We went on a mission yesterday for cigarettes and an inexpensive lunch. And I mean inexpensive, as in cheaper than my typical bar tab without even having food. Now I remember why I shied away from this program for many months while watching other distractions. Jolene's hair color, more feeling eyes and outfit have been working together and showing me what is actually possible with levels of beauty I'll never understand. The more I look at her facial expressions, the more I feel for her character, and then everything in my life is offset that much further toward the negative. I cannot help but stare and dream that she is a part of the machine, those huge eyes there for me constantly, as if the whole world was created by some force capable of the same dramatic wonder. I don't understand why nothing appears in so many places, when such vast loveliness can be omnipresent within a single face, thus outweighing all other possible levels of beauty. I just don't get it. Rather like those shots of Jamie smiling... A universe of beauty wrapped up in a single person while the remainder of the world becomes more bland than raw flower mixed with deionized water. Not vanilla... Much worse. The whole world. Everything. And then she is up there expressing more emotion in a single glance than an army of faces working to convey a lifetime of experiences. I don't understand and probably never will. I'll just keep staring, dreaming and falling below floor level over and over and over. I should not be watching this show, especially during the last two seasons. This is very bad for me. Right now Jolene is wearing purple. I prefer the orange. She is more beautiful than everything else in the world, combined. Even in the purple. I wanted to place an image of her character here, yet nothing really gets the point across to the level I need. Context is everything. Context is EVERYTHING. Repeat. The more weak and desperate I become, the more of my life becomes vaporized, and the more I push toward the anger that has been inside since eleven. Hence the empire. This is all I am to be for the remainder of life. Yesterday while out there beyond the property line, I was again searching. There was nothing to be found, not even in the restaurant. I thought there may have been something in the cigarette store, but she turned out to be more person and less beauty. From there to the coffee shop where a large group of developmentally disabled individuals were enjoying an outing, and then to the big home improvement store for a chair and some various electrical items for my empire. Unfortunately, the chairs have gone up in price dramatically in the last six months or so. I ended up grabbing nothing more than some boxes and connectors. There was nothing to see in that store, either. Very good. Back home to my chores and then relaxation. Rarely does anything move me. Most of the time I am fascinated, nothing more. The battleship eyes are a good point of reference, yet I cannot fully explain all of the processes at work inside me while staring because they relate to that damaging dream. That shit must remain under wraps. The point is that the television or still imagery are the only avenues to really being floored by something. Society carries much, much less. The desire related to the battleship eyes was powerful, meaning my future is most likely already written. The vulpine power was present in her. Prowess, somewhat. Lots of power, though. There is no point in my dwelling on her for very long because you and I probably both know that my ability to relate to another person has diminished too much. Every circumstance over the last ten-plus years has caused my sensitivity to peak and the desire to grow nearly beyond even my control. All those situations... Vaporized. Gone. As the months roll underneath my wheels this year, I am beginning to wonder of it was all just a dream. Hard to believe sometimes. Very hard to believe. I think the passage of time has forced me to grow into a person that will be limited forever. Limited to only so much. I know the dreaming at night as it relates to beauty is out of desperation. I know that damaging dream that I cannot discuss is growing both in importance and need, a situation I will NEVER be able to discuss with another human being, no matter the understanding. Believe me when I say there is more left out of this content than I can possibly describe. My state of mind has become so bad that almost everything I wish to place here for analysis must remain absent. Yes... THAT bad. I don't even know how to describe my feelings anymore. And now there she is in the orange outfit. The beltline and fabric seams create an image I've not seen since watching Andrea waddle her rear end through the halls of the Polynesian. At least at that time when my desire hit a high point I was able to tell her, after which those smooth pants were peeled off so I could be satiated. So sad. Now all I have is Jolene up there filling my head with impossible dreams. Too much damage over the course of too many years... Broken into pieces. I wish I could vaporize myself. When I see her walk I can't decide whether to simply gaze and enjoy or gouge my eyes out so the pain can diminish. Now I know how some of those characters on television or in film became full of 'worship' for another person, effectively sending the relationship so far out of balance that nothing could work. Severely heeled over, I am. The keel will not swing down. Today... Hmm... Now 0752 and my routine will be minimal because of the late lunch yesterday. I did not cook dinner, nor will I be doing it tonight due to a gathering at her parents' house this afternoon. As usual, I really don't want to go over there but it will be fine. Once arriving home afterward, I'll feel much better and probably accomplished. Everything is a fucking trial these days. The reward is all that interests me, though. I don't care about seeing others or what they want or need. I don't have the inclination to focus upon anyone else because the effort in keeping myself upright is more than enough to tax my mind and body. I think I can get there and back without serious issue. I've already done it several times in the last two years. Right now my world is stable, for lack fo a better term. The days are quiet, the work is never too much, and the time relaxing is still fine. I'm sure none of this will change in the short term. The largest benefit to being here all the time is having enough space to think. That may sound strange, but the truth is being out all the time meant there was little time to process anything, from some errant beauty on the sidewalk to the jobs we visited and on to shopping or visiting the bar during the afternoons. Now there are less opportunities to see those problems and much more space to consider everything and how it may affect me. Stability here is very important right now. The orange outfit forms her rear end into two circles -- a light seam up the center -- and the material is form-fitting but also with enough 'give' for her movements to appear natural rather than forced. The Raven appeared similar, although She preferred denim. The goddess was close, as well. Andrea had two circles. Damn. Maybe I should switch programs. Another paragraph gone by the wayside because I can't keep my eyes from being attached to Jolene's fucking ass. Splendid. God damn, her eyes are huge. I want to live in them. Or maybe just lick her pants for a while. 0807 and I am all over the map again. The beauty and resulting thoughts are removing any ability to concentrate this morning. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore so I just keep sitting here day in and day out, typing whatever comes to mind and seeing precisely zero improvement. Quite the reverse... Down, down, and down some more. I'm sure the day will move along fine, with me yearning and dreaming like always, and forming yet another symbol for the empire that no one will understand. Maybe I don't understand, either. Maybe I don't know anything because all of the good, useful and helpful parts of me have been burned away in favor of dark dreams and weak needs. Maybe I am half of what I once was, a half which has been shoved in a box with only enough space for thought. Maybe whatever ruined me did it for good reason. Once destroyed, I can't make any bad decisions or hurt anyone's feelings. The bad in me must be vaporized. Yeah, maybe that's it. Her."
Vaporization
Mature content No. 314 Published May 23rd, 2022 8:16am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"We are so fucking far past the ablation that there cannot be recombination. Not at all. None. Vapor, for as long as it lasts. Holy Jesus fucking God on a purple rubber crutch, this scene makes my head twist in half. Good Christ, what I am seeing must be from another fucking planet, or at least some alternate, parallel universe. She is something else, yet most of the time the key lines and radii are absent or otherwise obscured by way of clothing or some other means. But there? On the screen? Too much to describe. The sight actually causes physical pain of a type I cannot begin to describe, nor can I describe her. She is unique, unreal, unrelenting, and unbelievable. Not a fucking detail which does not scream at me. And then Linda crawling? Right on the heels of the scene of a lifetime? Fuck me running. I can't handle it. Time for a big sip of vodka and a damned smoke. 1101 on the same day the previous entry was published and I am destroyed. The 'passion' -- that timepiece slash work of art embodying every single fucking interest I have ever embraced and all rolled into the most beautiful and wondrous mechanical package on earth -- remains at a distant second. The one possession that moved me more than anything else in history was the Slipper, and that precious beauty is fucking THIRD. Basket case. Fucking depressed like never before, not even the shit period of eleven. 1120 and I feel like doing something else. 1633 and boy is the weather warm. I had no idea the mercury would rise quite so much in one day. Wow. Anyway, I took care of some housework and dry cleaning, and then moved to the empire to see what I need to prepare for when the wire and power supply arrive. So far, not a big deal. I did see a very tall, thin woman strolling behind her son on a bicycle. She had to have been taller than me. Geez. Always something, but whatever. I'll be slowing down for the remainder of the afternoon due to the house being so warm. Maybe just computer work and my show. Seeing as how all my hopes and dreams have been vaporized, I may as well do something unrelated to beauty. 'She' will still be in my head, however. No ridding myself of that one. 0629 on Thursday morning. The woman with my cousin's name, up on the screen, again. Fuck me. The flags are out and cats have had breakfast. And now the white catsuit in the desert sand. The thoughts in my head are very bad, but also good. I need to see her sometimes and evaluate my condition throughout the passage of time. Two years ago I brought her to this site and typed her name. Since then -- including up to this sentence -- there have been 212 occurrences of Jolene. I believe at some point I equated her name to my cousin and then felt more for her than I had in the past. Twenty-plus years ago when this series first aired, I don't recall watching. I only remember seeing some episodes during the 1236 period and after I had traded our older television for high-definition. Back then, her face was not the emotional wonderland that I see up there this morning, although her performance has not been altered... I have. The point of this is I've been staring at Jolene on and off for a very long time, and then began bringing her up within this content two years back. As a reference, and combined with going back to those essays and re-reading my own words from the beginning of the pandemic, I can learn of just how much I have changed since being home all the time. My feelings for Jolene and a few other characters have definitely increased in strength. And that increase is likely directly proportionate to the desperation I feel almost hourly. 0858, last of the coffee. I've finished half of the routine and placed the metal recycling at the curb. Garage is open for business. Eh... More work. 1043 and everything is finished. I went back out to the little empire and grabbed more metal leftovers to send to the recycle. It's all out on the driveway awaiting pickup. In addition, I was able to download the musical passages from the Empire show. The entire 23-track composition has been playing over the big MDRs. Right now, in fact. One track in particular will be idea for background music on Halloween. Very mysterious, that one. The music came over during Cleopatra's seduction of Caesar just yesterday while watching the show. Awesome. I may have to delve into the dragon music, too. Such drama would be ideal for the scary night, which I plan to make even more scarier than last year. The demon night, for sure. The empire will be lit red and orange, and with such dark and dramatic music playing, the night should prove splendid. Last year I had the scary music from my favorite game -- a disc now more than twenty-five years old, mind you -- and some of the children did not wish to approach my garage without an adult escort. Heh. This year I shall push further. Less than five months away. The empire is the one aspect of my life which has yet to vaporize, and the only part of living over which I enjoy complete control. Remember that word? All my crap is spread across the work bench awaiting inspiration. I fully intend to get out there in a little while and make some cable assemblies for lighting the lower half of the newest mural, plus I can power every strip of LEDs from the same source with room for future expansion. I purposely grabbed a power supply grossly oversized just in case more ideas come to light. In fact, I already have a plan to remove the neon sign from over the east window and create a large symbol on the wood backing. Years ago I added the wood over the window in order to cut the sunlight during mornings. There is but one third of the glass visible now. Plenty of room for a hand-drawn pentacle from my past which resembles wood grain on sight. Lots of symbolism out there these days, none of which will attract the squareheads. Very good. I don't need any voodoo in my life. Well, at least nothing north of where I now reside. When I tabulated the number of occurrences of Jolene's name on the site, I inadvertently found a reminder that two years ago I had been mixing 'Jaime' and 'Jamie'. Funny. They could not be more different. Just a thought. 0635, Friday morning. Flags, cats, coffee, the usual. I have a little while before the morning stuff. After? I plan to take it easy a little. Yesterday I ran some tests and rewired part of the empire's lighting system, after which I transferred two of my speakers to the neighbor's garage and ran wiring for both power and the antenna. That was a chore and left my back all fucked up for the rest of the evening. So, today I may just work inside again and chip away at the small items. My back will probably thank me later. The sun is already shining, so whatever is the most comfortable work today will take priority. I need something productive to keep the bad thoughts at bay. All that gushing about Jolene and her shape yesterday was indicative of my inner condition. Not a fucking day passes that I do not see vapor behind me. The first time I went after the darkness and outside the norm of daily, 'expected' life was thirty-four years ago. The inkling has not left because something happened which began to require a different type of understanding and communication, and there has been but a handful of occasions thus far. Such thinking and recollection are beginning to send my head into different places, one of which I am not accustomed. Worry over what someone may be thinking of me. And yes, I realize how ridiculous that may sound after years of bitching regarding society. I can't help but head in such a direction these days because of all I've done wrong. The way I feel about myself shall be left out because it is constantly changing and I'm tired of trying to keep pace.
Stay the fuck out
And now we have the episode that many disliked because they felt the female guest star was rather 'wooden' as an actor. They should be looking past her ability (which I believe is appropriate to the story) and begin staring at what an amazing work of art the woman really is. Maybe I am the only person who will think in such terms. I don't know. She hails from the Middle East, is very dark and quite tall, and her eyes are huge and go on forever. Absolutely stunningly gorgeous from any angle, especially when there is an argument between her and the other actor. Her face appears slightly miffed and fucking cuter than I can describe. Maybe I'll place an image of her from the modeling career on this entry or the next. Holy shit is she ever beautiful. The situation is bad, as usual. Everything up in smoke, so to say. I remember back during the major Asian fetish, a coworker of mine who was a hybrid and close to me was always interested in hearing about what I was thinking. I pictured all sorts of stuff back then, too. With her, mostly. I had hopes of something... Anything with the ability to pull me from the din and provide some escape from what I felt was mundane (in reality, I was far from living a mundane life, but did not see it). Nothing ever developed. In fact, I may have sown the seeds of destruction through desperation one fateful day. Eh... Whatever. That was way back, even before I ran away and into the arms of Juliette. Very bad now. Foiled, yet again. Too much of this will force me to cross into angry territory without a respite. 0837. The day is all mine, for whatever that may be worth. Aside from the routine, I'm not certain of the best path. I do have some laundry and dry cleaning, which means I can spend a little time in the emprie to keep an ear on the machines, but working out there may not be good today. I am still feeling the effects of being up and down the ladders for hours yesterday. I'll fifure something out soon, I guess. Everything is vapor. I certainly hope I appreciated those moments in the fold, all those years ago. Right now the entire period appears as mere seconds, even weeks with Andrea. Perhaps this condition is payment for enjoying happiness out of context, or at least too much of it. Weeks now feel line microseconds. 1047 and I just now heard a reference to a very difficult subject. The most difficult, actually, and during this particular episode of the fifth show, I honestly had never noticed until now. Wow. The only other reference of which I am familiar was way back thirty years ago within the sixth film. The creators took it upon themselves to incorporate a variation on the theme in question in the interest of humor. Of course. Isn't it always humor? Not to me. I had more respect ofr the fifth show prior to this incident, but alas my opinion is meaningless in the grand scheme of society, and that is anything 'funny' at the expense of 'whomever'. Well, I have to leave the show alone because I need it in the background sometimes. This is the only fucking franchise with which I can identify on a human level. The slip a few moments ago must be given a pass. There is simply no other choice if I am to continue watching into the future. The bottom line is even my love for science fiction is based upon what members of that same society have written and filmed. So sad. I lost faith in any understanding a very long time ago, and now one more little step south has only cemented my position. If you think about the scope of such a subject, who the fuck am I? No one. Disregarded. Alone, for all time. As I said... Very sad. This is another notch keeping me as far as possible out of a society with few feelings for the individual trials. Laundry almost finished, routine completely finished, and dry cleaning out of the way for this week. The single upside to this episode is Jolene. I can't even begin to describe what I've seen. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. And remember... The love is for her CHARACTER, and not the actor. I know nothing of the woman. And God damn fuck shit anyway, here comes the other beauty. A hole in my head. Oops... Wrong actor. Never mind. I wish I could vaporize certain parts of me. Maybe I'll order a pizza and sit here being miserable for the rest of the day. Why not? Will anything good happen? 0654. Saturday. Fifth show full of you-know-who, and the rest. Flags, etc. Yesterday turned out better than I had anticipated. Small items here and there, nothing more. I did a little more with the garage wiring, too. I'll probably continue it today after the routine and whatever else. I've been missing the camera. Maybe some shooting if I can find some subjects besides the television or models. Mostly I'll run wiring, I guess. Something I still enjoy. There is always room for improvement to my little empire. One of these days I'll feel it is good enough for Halloween or one of those evenings. I had everything lit last night for a little while just because I could. The light lingers late into the evening this time of year. Fifteen episodes into the second season means twelve or so more before she appears in the softer, less restricting outfit and with more hair. My eyes will probably fall out of their sockets as the desire to swallow her peaks. Twelve episodes. Maybe by Monday if I keep switching between programs from day to evening. I already saw the one in which she wears a white catsuit, but the new everyday uniform begnning with the third season is the clincher, especially orange. Good God (yes, that's just what the Hebrews thought). I may as well stop now because this won't be getting better anytime soon. The key to all this shit about Jolene is the fact that when I see her with a soft expression -- like an emotional conversation or when she is being more sensitive -- I see in her eyes the possibility of understanding. Yes, that's what I said. I dream of her listening and knowing. The desire to simply hold a deep conversation far outweighs the desire to lick her skin. Believe it, because only one of those two is actually important. The orange uniform and change in hair is going to drive me insane with need, but I'm going to do it anyway. 0754. Morning business finished. I have a very short, simple routine today and zero laundry. There should be plenty of time for continuing my efforts in other areas. One aspect of yesterday I failed to mention is that I decided to finally sort the truck hardware which has been languishing in a parts box for more than a decade. Likely more than a thousand individual pieces of hardware all mixed together. It's been on my mind for a while but I never really felt like getting into such sorting. Well, yesterday I ran out of gas with the wiring for a while and sat there with some empty drawers in the larger cabinets. So... No sooner did I begin separating different fasteners when my brain became flooded with memories of designing and building the truck throughout the course of nearly twenty years. In fact, the original frame rails -- the first two parts I machined from raw material -- were made during the holiday break, 2002. This coming Christmas season will be two decades and that fact depresses the shit out of me. Not only the passage of time and the gradient between where I wanted to be versus where I now reside, but the fact that every step accomplished or researched on that most complex of vehicles took place in each place I've lived. Living rooms, garages, whatever. Nearly twenty years of memories attached to more than I can possibly describe right now all poured over me while sorting the fasteners. Marvelous. Just what I needed atop my depression sundae already dripping with regrets. Every time I made a change in the appearance or material of a certain piece of hardware, I was in a different town. I did not finish the sorting by any means, but a start is better than nothing. I had to empty a few drawers in the other cabinets, too. That means shit going into the trash, some of which has traveled with me since the late nineties, believe it or not. Little parts that seemed like they may come in handy sometime in the future. Well, a few have, but mostly that stuff just moved from place to place and followed me. Sorting all that truck hardware means I can clean out areas which have been overlooked for years. The only upside.
I wish I had taken better pictures back then
Unfortunately, the memories really hit me in the face yesterday and nearly had me curled up on the sofa after feeling so fucking bad. Not only that, but the subject has now taken over this entry due to so many aspects having been completely vaporized. Damn it. Not a good morning. No one is listening. Everything is gone. All I have is the hardware. 0847. I should do my work. Anything to get some of this shit out of my head for a while. Thoughts from the last two days, as well. I need to be distracted like never before. Sorting the materials yesterday brought me all the way back to my original inspiration for building the truck -- meaning those years in the trailer -- up to and including the last few steps which were rather ridiculous, like disc brakes and larger wheels to contain the calipers. I went nuts with the design, hit a wall with the drive, and then basically gave up. I ordered the display case roughly two years ago and now the truck sits there. At night the LEDs above the chassis light up my accomplishments and illuminate loss at the same time. Other people have still marveled at the way it looks and all of the work I did, but I don't see that stuff anymore. I see time burned away. I have to get up and work pretty quick or the entire day will go to hell. 1013 and my routine is finished. Still the fifth show up there, and I've been marveling at some of the guest stars, most notably Hertzler. That guy was a science fiction industry. Heh. Ignore the 'heh'. I am not happy. The next couple of hours will be quiet, or whatever I make of them. After? I don't know. Maybe I'll go back to sorting the hardware. I'm already pissed off and depressed, may as well further the efforts. Hertzler, like many other guest stars who have made an enormous impact upon me throughout the years, will be forever up there on the screen. A legacy. On the contrary, I will continue to decline. My interest and dreams of the film industry did not come to pass, and I still don't even know if they could have gone anywhere because I never took a step beyond speaking with a sound engineer and gaining some points of contact. I sat still out of fear. I respect the work he performed with distinction. My path was to be behind the camera, honestly, so I would not have been one of the names people typically recall. The actors are the hood ornaments of the industry. Those in the background -- whatever the role in production -- often go by the wayside due to people's focus upon those on the screen. Many do not think about the people who actually created what we watch as entertainment. Well, I do, but that is likely due to being moved so deeply by the stories and everything else. I don't even know why I brought this up. Maybe being so down is pushing everything I never did to the forefront again. I sit here day after day and feel like a hole in the world. During my tenure at NASA, I was on many television documentaries and news broadcasts. Now I am invisible. I couldn't even get the truck to move on its own. I saw a little too much the other day and have been deciding whether or not putting the incident here is a good idea. Well, the whole affair will be unclear, anyway, so the point is moot. I simply saw two things that would have been better left out of my vision. Ooh-fa, Sunday morning at 0652 and I am just now sipping the first of the coffee. I had to go to the market this morning for cream, and as usual that same guy was there in the only open checkout lane with his typical Sunday-billion groceries. I planned to get there earlier, but I guess not quite early enough. After seven there are more and more shoppers, so six is about the right time. Instead of dashing through and grabbing my stuff, I decided to cruise and browse a little, effectively eliminating what would have been a lot of time standing in line. In fact, I saw a pair of legs in line when I entered the store, and after shopping around for a bit she was still waiting. Heh. Anyway, sometimes I just feel it's a lot to do before my first swallow of coffee. The legs turned out to be a whack job, too. No worries there. I furthered the wiring in the empire yesterday and then helped the neighbor work on his bike for a while. I had thought the evening was going to turn into a bit of an occasion, but I guess everything dried up and no one arrived. I ended up shutting down the system just after dinner. By that point I didn't care, anyway, but it's always nice to see my work glowing out there. Other occasions will come along soon enough. The wiring was partly for future expansion. I removed the neon sign over the window and cleaned up the area a bit so it looks neater than it has for the last several years. There was too much crap hanging from the light frame and the entire side of the garage was beginning to resemble a sideways yard sale. I am going to continue slimming the number of items on that side, which is also above my work bench. Rather like simplifying, I suppose. I'll have to get more LED drivers in order to build two or more new canopies, but honestly after that I will probably focus upon other ways of either simplifiying the space or decorating. The lighting has a limit. I did find a site from Canada which sells individual components just as those I've purchased as kits in the past. Considering the new power supply and bridging wire, I can do almost anything out there now. The only rub is that I can't have the empire too busy or too bright, so as I said, the limit must be respected. I would like the space to appear 'classic', and not insane. Subdued is the word, I suppose. The symbol going over the window will not be subdued, although it will be a pencil drawing and not as striking as the other three. 0749 and my second cup. I suppose the rest of the morning will be similar to most Sundays, with the routine and my garbage preparations, and then whatever seems interesting (or with the ability to keep my head on straight). I do enjoy organizing the refrigerator and garage on Sundays, too. A matter of control? Probably. I think that word creeps into more parts of my life than I realize, the site being at the top of the list. In any case, the work can be fulfilling to a point. Moreover, and for whatever reason, the last two mornings of heading out to the garage after my usual routine have found me feeling more 'empowered' than in quite some time. I put the word in quotes because it must be tempered or toned-down these days. For me, feeling empowered is not what it once was, nor can I claim to actually feel power. Whatever... I don't know why, but it could be the idea that I still maintain nearly full control of my time and scheduling, something of which I need remain mindful every day. Sometimes I lose track of the idea as a result of so much difficulty inside. At least when the knowledge that I have the days all to myself does lapse and return, the result is a very good feeling. This could be the main reasoning behind the empowerment. I hope it carries on throughout this day. I need something. The fact that I pointed out legs in the market is a good indication that there are processes inside which do not cease. Always looking, constant searching. That elusive 'understanding' behind the right pair of eyes will not leave me alone. I glanced at the legs and the memories of those of the past returned, if only for a few seconds. This episode of the fifth show has enough shots of Jolene's enormous eyes in varying, very feeling expressions for me to know that I have not improved one iota, and in fact may be further into the delusion than ever. The legs were a symptom. The understanding has vaporized, but I am so weak and desperate that my mind will not let go of the dream. Even the current scene lacking Jolene has its share of problems. The server with her slender shoulders and breasts pushing a silk blouse reminds me of seeing Juliette behind the teller line all those years ago, and right on the heels of the server returning to the bar was another fucking uncredited sight to her immediate left, all dark and alluring. Basket case. Always something. Always searching. Juliette vaporized herself that one day, teary-eyed and gorgeous. Door slam. Maybe that was the door to my hopes. Andrea's heels on the marble floor of the Venetian. The Raven's death.
The 16-inch, two-stage combustion shock tunnel
All the more reason to delude myself in the empire. Sometimes I light it in the evening when nothing else is going on just to head out there after dinner and wash myself in all of the color. The bartender is stunning, even when she's pissed off. Ugh... Anyway, I had everything on last night and did not shut it down until nearly ten. Hope? Eh... Not really. The imagery out there is like a statment of my dissatisfaction and loss in life. When it is on, passers by see a mood. Quite the bad mood, for sure. I'll be out there later when the sun is warm. More crap into the trash, more of the hedge into the compost, and more effort toward the appearance I so badly need wrapped around me. Why four images of the HFFAF, you ask? Lots of ablation and vaporization took place in that facility, some most notably during my tenure. Sometimes stopping an 80-gram projectile traveling through a vacuum at more than 16000ft/S is nearly impossible. If one of the models went even slightly off course, the damage to the facility could be extensive. The model was not the only part of a test that became vaporized. I think some of my dreams were shot through the test section and similarly destroyed. Not funny. Most of this episode is sans Jolene, thank fucking Christ. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I am later than usual, too. The trip to the store this morning slowed my schedule, but alas everything is up to me nearly all of the time. Ah... There she was. I could live an entire life in those eyes. I love her. She has more battleship in her eyes than almost any others. Shut up. 0847. Even though the bartender's breasts and shoulders are stunning, I can't keep my eyes off Keith Carradine because he was fucking AWESOME, as was the rest of his acting family. They are very nearly all gone now. So sad. At least they accomplished something more than a bunch of fucking lights and shit in a garage. Oh, and a massive, complex and very expensive truck that never moved on its own. Last cup of coffee and then I'll slowly get the routine finished. I do not have the house to myself at all today, although such a fact will not change the way I care for everything. I have a certain way about the work which is never altered, no matter the circumstances. The familiarity and background comfort are necessary more than ever. Jolene is wearing a white outfit now. Oof, that means the third season is not far off. Anyway, today should prove just fine if I can keep my head out of the din (or her fucking pants) and focus. The pants have possibly more power now than they have ever had over me. I just can't believe it sometimes. Now she's in a tank top and shorts for the decontamination chamber. Jesus. I've not felt this much desire for her before. One glimpse of her shorts and I am worthless. Whomever or whatever made her broke the mold. Damn it... I was speaking of this day. Dumb shit. I am so fucking depressed these days that I may as well sit out there later and sort more hardware. I'm already half in the fuckin' ground, anyway. Why not drink and let it swallow me, right? I have little else in this life. Jolaimora, remember? One of three, as the Borg might say. Jolai-fuckin-mora. Jesus fucking Harold Christ on a rubber crutch... She was walking in the tank top with breasts bouncing all over the place. I can't take much more of this today. Moreover, I just created the next entry title referring to how I would relate to Jolene in reality. She would run away. And now Robert O'fuckin Reilly and his incredible voice. I. Fucking. Love. Him. I'm losing it this morning. The coffee is waning and I have to move along with the day. Hopefully I can get the shit out of my head by way of keeping busy. I can begin drawing the latest mural and maybe build the two canopies for lighting it. I already have the wiring in place, too. 1104 and half the routine is finished, albeit the more taxing half. I need to keep the house quiet for the time being. The additional LED strips and power plugs are ordered, so after the second half of my routine is finished I can head to the garage and build canopies. All morning long I have images of desire swirling through me as if some external force is disallowing comfort. On a Sunday, this is unacceptable. I'll have to push myself through the shit and hopefully come out the other side in better shape. The booze has been flowing since before 10. I also straightened up the mess left from yesterday's work so my garage is in order again. The image of Jolene's form has been following me all around the house. I can't get her out of my head as of yet, damn it all. But one certainty keeps nagging at my consciousness, and that is my future appears black. The dreaming and yearning shall not end anytime soon, if at all. Not good. The more desperation I feel, the more solid my stance. 'Bad mood' doesn't even scratch the surface anymore. If not for the change in schedule, I'd have the routine finished and be on to larger concerns. This is likely the only lack of control that must be dealt with. Overall, not too much for me. Soon enough this schedule will revert to the norm and I will be back to enjoying the freedom of controlling my time. Ever closer to the third season. I am anticipating a difficult path through the next two. Jolene is rising. Jolaimora... Jolene was first even when I initially created such a portmanteau. I want to absolutely devour her body, but even moreso I need the simplicity of her understanding. Further down. More impossibility. Crippling desperation. Unending depression. I don't even know how I am still alive. The volume level of music in the garage later will put off anyone strolling by. Trust me. My display of evil shall vaporize any wishes to be closer to this piece of property. I remember Nancy from high school, one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen -- to this day I can see her smiling -- and my one-time visit to her door. Nearby was a house wrapped in storm fencing and displaying multiple dishes and antennae. I inquired of what it represented, and Nancy replied that he was the paranoid conspiricist of the neighborhood, and that no one ever went to his front door. Well, I am beginning to feel like the outcast here, honestly. On those occasions in which my empire is lit, I've seen people on their evening walks and looking toward what I've built with much apprehension. I suppose the lack of fencing and anything displayed on the outside of the house keeps me from the level of whomever lived in that house near Nancy. Good and bad. And the third season has begun... Jolene's outfit and hair have improved. I am now left to dream even more for situations that are fucking IMPOSSIBLE. If those people walking by only knew... The garage is nothing when held against the sheer forces inside my broken head. Evil, sans actions. Holy Jesus fucking God in Heaven or wherever... Jolene. I DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING WORDS. WHY DID I HAVE TO DEVELOP IN SUCH A MANNER? ANSWER ME. Evil incarnate. Again... Sans actions, thank the maker. But I am powerless. 0653 on Monday. She is on vacation this week, so no house to myself for a while. No big deal. I broke out of the norm yesterday and blew up the garage while working on my latest mural. That really had the drawing flowing better than I had anticipated when beginning the outline. More LEDs and associated electronics are on the way. I'll be spending some decent time out there this week. Last night when I went out to grab the flags, the empire was lit and appeared to glow, just as I had hoped. From the end of the driveway or sidewalk areas, some detail is lost, yet the point is seeing everything as it should be, up close. Whatever... My preference is different than what you may believe. The drawing I began yesterday will be furthered later this morning.
Orthogonal photo stations along the test section
We went on a mission yesterday for cigarettes and an inexpensive lunch. And I mean inexpensive, as in cheaper than my typical bar tab without even having food. Now I remember why I shied away from this program for many months while watching other distractions. Jolene's hair color, more feeling eyes and outfit have been working together and showing me what is actually possible with levels of beauty I'll never understand. The more I look at her facial expressions, the more I feel for her character, and then everything in my life is offset that much further toward the negative. I cannot help but stare and dream that she is a part of the machine, those huge eyes there for me constantly, as if the whole world was created by some force capable of the same dramatic wonder. I don't understand why nothing appears in so many places, when such vast loveliness can be omnipresent within a single face, thus outweighing all other possible levels of beauty. I just don't get it. Rather like those shots of Jamie smiling... A universe of beauty wrapped up in a single person while the remainder of the world becomes more bland than raw flower mixed with deionized water. Not vanilla... Much worse. The whole world. Everything. And then she is up there expressing more emotion in a single glance than an army of faces working to convey a lifetime of experiences. I don't understand and probably never will. I'll just keep staring, dreaming and falling below floor level over and over and over. I should not be watching this show, especially during the last two seasons. This is very bad for me. Right now Jolene is wearing purple. I prefer the orange. She is more beautiful than everything else in the world, combined. Even in the purple. I wanted to place an image of her character here, yet nothing really gets the point across to the level I need. Context is everything. Context is EVERYTHING. Repeat. The more weak and desperate I become, the more of my life becomes vaporized, and the more I push toward the anger that has been inside since eleven. Hence the empire. This is all I am to be for the remainder of life. Yesterday while out there beyond the property line, I was again searching. There was nothing to be found, not even in the restaurant. I thought there may have been something in the cigarette store, but she turned out to be more person and less beauty. From there to the coffee shop where a large group of developmentally disabled individuals were enjoying an outing, and then to the big home improvement store for a chair and some various electrical items for my empire. Unfortunately, the chairs have gone up in price dramatically in the last six months or so. I ended up grabbing nothing more than some boxes and connectors. There was nothing to see in that store, either. Very good. Back home to my chores and then relaxation. Rarely does anything move me. Most of the time I am fascinated, nothing more. The battleship eyes are a good point of reference, yet I cannot fully explain all of the processes at work inside me while staring because they relate to that damaging dream. That shit must remain under wraps. The point is that the television or still imagery are the only avenues to really being floored by something. Society carries much, much less. The desire related to the battleship eyes was powerful, meaning my future is most likely already written. The vulpine power was present in her. Prowess, somewhat. Lots of power, though. There is no point in my dwelling on her for very long because you and I probably both know that my ability to relate to another person has diminished too much. Every circumstance over the last ten-plus years has caused my sensitivity to peak and the desire to grow nearly beyond even my control. All those situations... Vaporized. Gone. As the months roll underneath my wheels this year, I am beginning to wonder of it was all just a dream. Hard to believe sometimes. Very hard to believe. I think the passage of time has forced me to grow into a person that will be limited forever. Limited to only so much. I know the dreaming at night as it relates to beauty is out of desperation. I know that damaging dream that I cannot discuss is growing both in importance and need, a situation I will NEVER be able to discuss with another human being, no matter the understanding. Believe me when I say there is more left out of this content than I can possibly describe. My state of mind has become so bad that almost everything I wish to place here for analysis must remain absent. Yes... THAT bad. I don't even know how to describe my feelings anymore. And now there she is in the orange outfit. The beltline and fabric seams create an image I've not seen since watching Andrea waddle her rear end through the halls of the Polynesian. At least at that time when my desire hit a high point I was able to tell her, after which those smooth pants were peeled off so I could be satiated. So sad. Now all I have is Jolene up there filling my head with impossible dreams. Too much damage over the course of too many years... Broken into pieces. I wish I could vaporize myself. When I see her walk I can't decide whether to simply gaze and enjoy or gouge my eyes out so the pain can diminish. Now I know how some of those characters on television or in film became full of 'worship' for another person, effectively sending the relationship so far out of balance that nothing could work. Severely heeled over, I am. The keel will not swing down. Today... Hmm... Now 0752 and my routine will be minimal because of the late lunch yesterday. I did not cook dinner, nor will I be doing it tonight due to a gathering at her parents' house this afternoon. As usual, I really don't want to go over there but it will be fine. Once arriving home afterward, I'll feel much better and probably accomplished. Everything is a fucking trial these days. The reward is all that interests me, though. I don't care about seeing others or what they want or need. I don't have the inclination to focus upon anyone else because the effort in keeping myself upright is more than enough to tax my mind and body. I think I can get there and back without serious issue. I've already done it several times in the last two years. Right now my world is stable, for lack fo a better term. The days are quiet, the work is never too much, and the time relaxing is still fine. I'm sure none of this will change in the short term. The largest benefit to being here all the time is having enough space to think. That may sound strange, but the truth is being out all the time meant there was little time to process anything, from some errant beauty on the sidewalk to the jobs we visited and on to shopping or visiting the bar during the afternoons. Now there are less opportunities to see those problems and much more space to consider everything and how it may affect me. Stability here is very important right now. The orange outfit forms her rear end into two circles -- a light seam up the center -- and the material is form-fitting but also with enough 'give' for her movements to appear natural rather than forced. The Raven appeared similar, although She preferred denim. The goddess was close, as well. Andrea had two circles. Damn. Maybe I should switch programs. Another paragraph gone by the wayside because I can't keep my eyes from being attached to Jolene's fucking ass. Splendid. God damn, her eyes are huge. I want to live in them. Or maybe just lick her pants for a while. 0807 and I am all over the map again. The beauty and resulting thoughts are removing any ability to concentrate this morning. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore so I just keep sitting here day in and day out, typing whatever comes to mind and seeing precisely zero improvement. Quite the reverse... Down, down, and down some more. I'm sure the day will move along fine, with me yearning and dreaming like always, and forming yet another symbol for the empire that no one will understand. Maybe I don't understand, either. Maybe I don't know anything because all of the good, useful and helpful parts of me have been burned away in favor of dark dreams and weak needs. Maybe I am half of what I once was, a half which has been shoved in a box with only enough space for thought. Maybe whatever ruined me did it for good reason. Once destroyed, I can't make any bad decisions or hurt anyone's feelings. The bad in me must be vaporized. Yeah, maybe that's it. Her."
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