December 18th, 2022 8:09am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Wracked Visage; Lined Hell 'The Absent Train' read ( words) "Don a fucking helmet again and get ready to say goodbye. 0609 on Wednesday morning. Yesterday certainly flew by. I never mentioned the full extent of the event from the afternoon stop. The focus had to be shifted quickly or I would have lost my way and not completed anything at home. I can’t let that happen. The fact that I am so weak should not affect the routine, although what took place when I looked at her beautiful eyes was so unexpected that I was halted for a time. It is THAT important. Right down the street from me resides a woman above all things in the world. I stood not two feet in front of her and saw a smile. Seconds later, two of life’s tumblers fell into alignment and hit my brain like a wrecking ball. I realized why she became so important to me, and that reason is not her resemblance to the darkest of beauty, otherwise known as the Raven. Maintaining my composure as the four of us spoke about the job was one of the most difficult tasks in memory. Going to work today now appears simplistic and meaningless. I would like to earn additional cash for the holidays, nothing more. 1636. Lines on the job site. Lines. LINES, for Christ’s sake. The designer came to the house to go over some details with the general. For an hour I saw her move about the rooms in her yoga pants and watched long, flowing, beautiful hair swirl around in the breeze. Damn it. I had to walk past her several times for material and tools, all the while averting my eyes in order to remain professional while working. Well, no craning of the neck or sneaking peeks were necessary because she was all over the house; at one point facing directly away and standing as if to inflame the obsession. After yesterday afternoon, I honestly did not need anything else clogging up my thought processes. She was there nonetheless; looking like a soft, warm dream in painted pants. Such attire may not be a good idea on a construction site. Right now I need to let go of her lines and move the content along as best I can. Such a strain on my senses. I believe I know who ‘she’ is. ‘Her’. There is a horrible, crippling fact attached to knowing, as well. I don’t even want to get into that shit. The idea makes my heartache amplify to the nth degree. Many occasions have found me stating that I have never been in worse shape. I have to say it again right now. Believe me, this fucking situation dates back to before ‘The Failing Fantasy and Alexis’. That entry was a turning point, for sure, but right now I cannot imagine feeling more empty and disconcerted at any time in my life. Weak. Desperate. Full of pain. I see no positives here. Nothing good. I suspect that the connection to ‘her’ and my fall yesterday have finally proven that the intentions of eleven are the only way. Intentions are not actions, but actions will suffice. The eyes have it. I saw them but did not complete the equation until a while later. This is now 0605 on Thursday, a solid day and a half since standing before her most beautiful of faces, and I still feel that everything I tried to describe was not enough. I know. I know who ‘she’ is. This is going to change a few aspects of my life. The terrible fact of ‘her’ existence in reality continues to plague me, too. I can’t get her face out of my head. Earlier this morning was a dream, as if there was not enough going on inside my brain already. A girl with me at an old company from the nineties; the one I dealt with almost daily for nearly three years. I spoke with her during some address from management to which no one seemed to be listening, and began to reminisce about the president of the company during that period. Ok, she may not be ‘her’, but I can’t know who she is without asking about ‘her’, and that may be impossible. Make sense? Nope. The problem is ‘her’ may be inside her. She might actually be ‘her’, and if this is true, the search is over, as is my life. There you go. And I still have not gone into detail regarding this unreal discovery the other day. You’ll just have to wait; possibly forever. I don’t care. My head is more fucked up than ever. She is not the only problem, either. Shit is beginning to pile up high enough to produce a line of thinking that no one is going to like. I have lost too much for each day to be comfortable, and I need too much to believe that there can be understanding in the future. Those two alone should be enough to drive me into the ground. For some reason I am still sitting here doing the same thing. If she is ‘her’, I’m going to lose my shit. If this year’s development (I’ve mentioned it enough already) continues to elude my vision, I’m going to lose my shit. If the next year begins as this one did, I’m going to lose my shit. Between those three fucking craphole issues, it’s a pretty good bet that the shit-losing is guaranteed. Only a matter of time, believe me. 1646, same day. I worked again today and will return to the same job tomorrow. The cash is tumbling in and will enable all manner of nutcase purchases for the holidays. Today was both good and bad, the good unable to outweigh two visions. Yep, and I am not speaking of the designer (who was there again in yoga pants of a different color). I am referring to lunch time when I sat in the driveway and watched two girls – and I mean GIRLS – who pulled up to clean the house across the street. Let’s see... Yoga pants, flowing black hair, lines on display, and my head coming apart, especially considering the very difficult morning prior to leaving the house. I stared to my heart’s content and then returned to the house for the afternoon work. I had to repeatedly measure lengths of pipe and consider the ramifications of different copper fittings and isolation straps due to dreaming of seeing both of those girls in a number of poses solely for my visual and deviant benefit. Let us recap. I spoke of being hit in the face by a woman who now appears to be ‘her’. That was bad. I have known her for many years. Standing next to her two days ago and speaking in person was a fucking dream come true. I never forgot her, either. Ever since seeing that woman sitting at the bar some years ago when she asked if I remembered her face, I’ve been pretty well smitten. That day was key, as well, because I stated that I could not possibly forget her due to the resemblance to someone I loved. She was taken aback, believe me. Her facial expression and eyes told the whole truth. Now pile atop the incident with the second fucking slap by the designer at the job yesterday. My eyes came right the fuck out of my already-strained head. I took in more information during the course of minutes than anyone may believe. The afternoon left me floored and hurt, deeply depressed and at the outset of some pretty bad fucking anger. Now throw in those two visions across the street today, sprinkle in the problem which arose early this year and the image is complete. Wrecked. Less and less of me wishes to continue living. Friday morning, early. I’ll be leaving in less than an hour. This marks the first time in more than two and a half years that I’ve worked five days in the same week. Unbelievable. This week is not the norm, either. It’s just that one big job with which I wanted to help, plus the cash in my pocket. The resemblance is incredible. Never before has something like this taken place. Never. The Raven was bad enough when it comes to those dark features, for sure. She carried more than I can possibly describe here. I stared at that woman so much that I thought She would take issue with my attention. The resemblance I saw the other day will not leave my head lately. I keep making references back to different moments that went by in the last few years, yet the more I think about those key images, the more I see them reflected in the woman from earlier this week. And? This is not going to make sense to anyone but me because there are no fucking names or other identifiers to assist. I can’t get her face out of my head. Saturday morning, finally. The week moved along very quickly, yet the work has me very tired now. I’ll have to think about how much I want to work heading into next month. The money is nice, though. Time will tell, I suppose. Her face has been behind my eyes since Tuesday. The correlation is incredible and amazing and I still hesitate to state the reality of the situation. I mentioned the horrible aspect of this. After thinking about ‘her’ all week since the face, I cannot deny that aspect is killing me inside. There are two words involved of which I am not at all fond. Part of me is dying to tell her what her face and eyes mean to me, while the other part wishes to avoid seeing her again, ever. Her. Possibly ‘her’. This is not a joke. I am dying to stare again. The relationship between her eye sockets, nose, and mouth are a near-ideal match. Unbelievable. I have to stare and watch her eyes change as she speaks. I want to photograph her face and keep it for all time. There is really nothing I can do about this, either. I am simply gushing my feelings for the way she resembles another and the fact that I stood there and looked at her without the realization slapping me in the face right away. It took a little while before I equated that little nose to the real thing, after which I knew what had happened. The time is now 0820 and she is commanding my attention from afar. This is crazy. Another fucked up fact is the whole thing probably has not sunk in completely, believe it or not. I’ll most likely worsen soon. Ok... Today. I have to drive over the hill this morning for a few items and then return to the routine. The past week has forced me to care for things in the afternoon as opposed to my typical morning home schedule. I don’t like it much, but again... Lots of cash coming. Between today and tomorrow I can catch up with everything in anticipation of the holiday next week. Heading over to those stores when they open is a good idea after an entire week full of fucking yoga pants. I don’t want to see anything else since the slam of the designer and the girls across the street not long after. That was just too fucking much for my weakened and desperate stance in life. Don’t even get me started on the other one. I already have deep feelings for her. ‘Her’? I am pretty damned certain. Ugh. 1834. This has been a long but productive day. I did take a trip to the pet and wine stores, both destinations being uneventful, thankfully. The previous paragraph outlined the trouble already inside my head. Upon returning home, I took care of the latent routine and a few other things to ease my mind after being away from the house most of the week. I really don’t like things getting too far askew before I have the opportunity to straighten everything to my satisfaction. We spent the late afternoon at a birthday, family only. That was relaxing. Now the evening is in full swing and I have zero responsibilities until my Sunday business that, after today, appears very comfortable. For a little while I was busy enough to forget everything. The trouble hath returned, however. Cocktail time. The end of the rainbow is causing pain and I don’t even know if it is real. Ninety percent, though. She. ‘Her’. The eyes, nose, mouth and remaining facial structure are driving me up the wall and I STILL haven’t stated the reason. I can’t right now. I just can’t. I need to see her but there is nothing I can do right now. Not a fucking thing. She is over there and I am over here, and in the grand scheme of the world, the connection is too thin to exploit or even consider right now. I’ve gone through holy hell in the past for positioning myself near to something special – and on occasion actually succeeded – only to be dropped from on high and left in an even worse frame of mind. I need more of that like I need a tax audit. The fact that there even exists a connection is amazing when one considers the idea of her being such a fucking match to the dream of a lifetime. I am not kidding, either. The thread may be thin, but it is there nonetheless. Sunday morning. Coffee, second show, cats fed, dead head. A head. Ahead? All red. All read. Dread. 0719. I added an image of Maja here because she is so pretty and her lips could be the second coming of Christ. The woman is gorgeous, honestly. I thought her face might make this entry look a bit better (until the content is read by someone, that is). I have included her on the site before. Enjoy. She is the only good thing about this shit. Today is Sunday and I have my business awaiting the clock’s advancement. Some work in the garage, laundry, and the typical garbage stuff will be on tap once the sun is a bit warmer. This day is already appearing better than the last, and not just because we went elsewhere for dinner. It’s everything. Difficult to describe. Anyway, the positive nature of the day’s outlook cannot offset the imagery in my brain or the correlation I noticed days ago. The truth is I am trying to calculate a way to speak with her again. All I need is a moment. Of course, this may never come to pass. In fact, as I sit here right now, I see a less than one percent chance that anything I want or need regarding that woman will ever be possible. The whole fucking shitaree is very sad, honestly. I feel the strongest pull from her face. I need to stare and express to her just what the staring actually means. I need to tell her that she is above all other things in the universe and the very definition of destiny. And no, nothing like what you are likely thinking. Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Leave all that physical shit on the side of the highway and set the throttle on WFO. Leave it alone. My needs regarding the most beautiful example of a woman are all centered upon a few features and nothing more. The equation I put together days ago while at home has birthed so many damned feelings that I can’t even begin to understand, but at the same time I know what I have to do in order to reconcile myself with the connection. I stood there and saw destiny. Unfortunately, I am not to be involved in such a thing. My role is to fulfill one need and tell her what it means, and then likely watch myself fade into nonexistence. Or, the end may also be nothing more than the derealization becoming so deep that I no longer interact with people. I don’t care, but I will miss ‘her’. Actually, I miss ‘her’ right now and I barely know her. I believe she is ‘her’, but she is not going to save me. She cannot. The situation is not so easily resolved. There are problems I have not revealed here and probably never will, and to consider the fact that she is a person with feelings and not in need of anyone gushing a ton of superlatives with tears in their eyes, the calculations through which I am trying to run seem futile. I still have to do it, though. Compulsion has been redefined. There is no end to it. 1000 straight up. The subject of that fucking damaging dream floated back into my head this morning and drove me right up the wall. I could NOT get her out of my head, leading to the decision to push toward work, lest I lose my fucking mind. I can’t have that right now. She is trying to weave those lovely eyes (and breasts) through my brain like a tapestry of desire. God damn do I ever want to devour her. This is fucked, yet again. The day must move along, though. I can’t have her derailing my precious Sunday schedule, not to mention putting the kibosh to my desire to watch a hell of a game in about three hours. And? For reasons of good form, I have a nice, fat orange/white Russian sitting to my right as I type these words. That girl is going to drive me insane I tell you. In-fucking-sane. Obviously, I can’t place my thoughts about her on the site. I’d be labeled worse than I already have. Very bad, that shit. Believe me... Everything has gone through my brain like a freight train loaded with physical acts. This is so very bad. Maybe the booze will calm my need to... Those fucking breasts drive me nuts. Ugh. The bra strap and her slender fingers... Holy Jesus shit God damn fucking hell in a soft thong do I want her. This fucking condition is DEBILITATING. I'm going to flip the fuck out in a little while. Little? No... That warm pair of breasts is anything but little. Shoot me. I don't fucking care anymore. I've been fucking driven to this state... Driven by those who would strain my life and enjoy the process. They have already succeeded. Someone stop this shit, please. Nope. JESUS FUCKING HAROLD CHRIST ON A RUBBER CRUTCH DO I WANT THAT GIRL. This may be a good day to swing the fucking hammer. I have lots to do in the garage between laundry and general straightening, although the afternoon game is going to get in the way of my mood. One option is to have the game on the television but without sound. Holy shit... This woman in the commercial... God help me. Anyway, ah, fuck. Another one. Jesus! I am a basket case. I think my best plan is to care for as much in the house as possible for the next couple of hours and then head to the garage to blast the neighborhood with unpleasant, unfeeling music while I watch the game and work on organization and laundry. I’m in the perfect mood for a storm. The sun has been shining all morning and the outdoor spaces are warming quickly. Everything could come together by kickoff, effectively blazing a trail into the nether regions of my shitty attitude. Nice. All I have to do is get the breasts out of my brain. Tall order. I desperately need to... 1040. I am working tomorrow and Tuesday. The money is very nice and my physical ability to keep moving all day long has benefited from the laborious plumbing. This is a good thing, especially considering I only need work when I want. I could not have imagined this situation two years ago. Sometimes I think days like this should be centering my head and helping me to focus upon the positives. I thought about them last night when my head hit the pillow. FUCK. I need parts of her body in my fucking MOUTH right now. Stop it, dipshit. Just fucking stop. Focus upon the positives for crying out loud. She. ‘She’ is ‘her’. Oh, God. I spoke to her. I spoke to ‘her’. I saw the resemblance and lost my mind. Those eyes... For the love of Christ... I want her to KNOW. I have to tell her. ‘Her’. Oh, boy. A girl on the Indianapolis sideline. Pants, hair, eyes. Maybe I need to be institutionalized. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Does she know how beautiful she is? The cheerleaders don’t cut the fucking mustard anymore. Heh. Well, some do, but they are rarely centered in the frame. Eh... Fuck that. Go and research the pro cheerleaders and read about how underpaid and difficult their roles have become. I look at them and realize that the sport is STILL very sexist after all this time. Am I sexist? In a manner of speaking, yes. I am of one sex, meaning the opposite can be attractive. Do I objectify? Sometimes, but please understand that the last four-plus decades have been aslant due to the actions of others, and the trailing decade has been wrought with insensitivity and apathy. I am sitting on this fucking sofa at this very fucking moment in pain because of said apathy. For the billionth fucking time, I am a product of time and circumstance. AT LEAST I KNOW IT, people. I am a good person. Sally Kellerman said something which puts the whole subject into perspective for both males and females. She said, ‘Being viewed as a sex object is not a negative, provided it is not the only way a person is viewed’. This entire paragraph is really fucking screwed, but not all my fault. That quote may not have been Sally. I don't remember. 1544. Nearly all of my business is complete and I effectively calmed the demons for the time being. The early game went to shit, the second game followed suit, but the Lions won in the east, so all is not lost. The most important game is tomorrow night. I am hoping to avoid another tirade about ‘her’. 0633 on Monday morning. I was going to work today and tomorrow but the night was very bad. I have cold symptoms, meaning I can’t be near other people. I am home for the duration. Second show and coffee. I dreamed this morning, however the subject escapes me. It may have been related to the science fiction on my television last night. ‘She’ will not be a part of anything I need. She cannot, and for reasons I will not reveal here. Just understand that there are forces at work over which I have zero control. The entire realization must move in another direction now. I have to think. Sitting across the table from her – a la the Phase Lock girl on that fateful morning – is a dream larger than the Passion, believe it or not. I want to have a conversation and tell her the story of how this all came about. Should that actually take place in reality, the next step would be a portrait. Yes, a photograph. It would sit side-by-side with the other one for comparison and my subsequent daydreaming for the rest of my life. I want to talk with her so bad that it’s eating me from the inside out. There has to be a way to do this without causing any problems. There is also plenty of time. I have zero expectations that I can meet with her and speak, though. The whole shitaree feels too far-fetched, most likely due to my penchant for dreaming of impossibilities. Honestly, I should be overjoyed to have merely spoken for a few minutes in person. Well, I am, but the day is fading into history and I fucking need more of her near me. Nothing like what I have tried to describe here, however. Just words. The repair just ain’t gonna fucking happen. She will never know of the past, only the resemblance. I don’t believe unloading all my shit to another person is fair at all. Even though my greatest need is the ability to severely ‘lean’ on a beautiful woman, in reality I just could not get myself to do such a thing without permission, and the odds of that happening are beyond stratospheric. I can’t risk pushing because I already know of the consequences. I’ve pushed plenty in the past. One certainty from my years of observing behavior is the women I have known did not find a lack of confidence in a male attractive. Not at all. And here I sit as a fucking basket case and about as far off balance as a person can be. As I have recently mused, I cannot be good for anyone. Not even close. If I am able to speak with her sometime in the future, care must be taken to avoid going too far. That will be tough, to say the least. The slam to my head due to the resemblance may force me to become desperate (not a long fucking trip at all) and go just far enough beyond the norm that she could react badly. I can’t have that. I did ok with the Phase Lock girl so many years ago, although that discussion centered upon beauty. This is actually far deeper. Within five seconds of her answering the door, my heart exploded all over the place and I had to rein in the feelings. Not easy. Don’t even get me started on what I felt when she addressed me from two feet away. Maybe nothing will ever happen and I’ll be left sitting here wondering, just like always. What a splendid thought. I never thought I’d see something like that right before my eyes. I didn’t remember, either. I just didn’t remember. Details faded and then slammed me back in microseconds when I saw her eyes. And then the nose. Holy shit. I have to get away from this subject. Wow, do I ever feel like crap. Chills are never fun. I believe the drink choices for today will be hot tea and water. Coffee does not taste as good as it usually does. I am glad the option to remain home is always available, though. I am technically just helping, so I can set the schedule (more or less. There are still commitments) Maybe the work days down the peninsula last week during cold mornings caught up with me. I don’t know. There is an upside, however. This type of condition pushes away all of the fucking desire. Gone. The previous paragraph was written more than two days ago. This is now Wednesday, meaning I basically lost two days. They are gone entirely with nothing to show. I’ve been bundled up and on a virus diet. Yes, that one. I don’t know how, but I caught it at some point and was down for a time. Honestly, the symptoms were not too bad compared to what I’ve heard of others. Anyway, I feel quite a bit better this morning. Maybe the day will be normal. The biggest issue with that condition seems to be the fever. Mine was knocked down in a matter of hours. Not bad. This is the first time I did not write over the course of so much time. 0717. Between the work last week and being so under the weather so far this week, my house and garage time has felt alien. Everything has been closed up. I really need to get back to normal so I can take care of business around here. I don’t like the feeling of being behind schedule or letting things get out of hand. I feel as if everything is messed up right now. Let’s just call it a lack of control. I’ll get it back soon. Of all the aspects I love about being home, maintaining control over my atmosphere is near to the top of the list. I need what I enjoyed prior to going to work last week. Moreover, the fact that the work began to head toward full-time again pushed me to take the rest of the year for myself. I was in bed for ten hours but did not sleep very much. I couldn’t quiet my head for some reason. ‘She’ was swirling inside, along with being behind with my usual chores around the house. Work also floated through my head. I don’t know why so many different topics continued to flip along during the night, but I believe they were most of the reason for my lack of sleep. My head is fairly clear this morning, though. It is a situation I’ve not enjoyed since late Sunday. Monday and Tuesday were so messed up that I couldn’t calculate anything. Everything troubling my mind for the last several weeks has been dormant since Monday. When I can’t function, nothing else takes priority. I have to care for myself and let it all go. I did just that and now feel much better, yet none of the bad stuff has returned. The first two days of this week were exacerbated by my reckless behavior on Sunday, too. I’ll take the blame for that one, although the arrival of virus symptoms was not up to me. Maybe if I had been in better shape prior to becoming sick, the depth could have been minimized. This situation is going to change my behavior, trust me. I’ve been slapped in the face with my own complacency. 0629 on Thanksgiving. Remember ‘Holiday’? The topic has been permeating my head since last night. ‘Holiday’ even usurped ‘her’ for a while. Well, that and the virus. This is going to be a tough day. I am feeling better physically with each passing hour, meaning whatever else may be taking place in my head can be offset with the fact that my health is improving, plus the crisp air may benefit my condition as I work around the house. I have to care for some things that have gone by the wayside because they are beginning to irritate me. I have not completed my usual daily routine since Sunday last. Not good. My little world must be in full order by close of business today. I don’t know how to return to the other subject. I’ve been out of sorts and fairly sideways since Sunday night, meaning everything which had been prioritized inside my head has fallen away for a time and I don’t know how to get the feelings back. Believe me, I’d rather forget some of them and never address such topics again, but I must be myself above all things. She will return here soon enough, as will the remaining shit I’ve been forced to plow. My twin monitors arrived yesterday, representing the first fruit of my labor for the last couple of weeks. The only component I need to acquire for the desktop system is the computer itself. Maybe sometime soon I can travel over the hill and consult. The machine must have one specific feature, meaning I need to address some people in order to determine the best choice. Everything else is in place right now. I am looking forward to setting up in the old office once again, and after nearly three years. I guess the new office is not as such any longer. It is the empire, for whatever that may be worth. 0754. No coffee this morning. I have not had coffee since Monday morning and it did not last long. Tea has been the choice, along with gallons of water. I have the second show on the big television screen, although I may switch to the holiday movies very soon to help me consider tree preparations. I’m certain there will be trouble within said movies and I don’t care. Football does not kick off for nearly two hours. I would like to watch at least one entire game today. Wow. What a Thanksgiving. I am feeling tons better than the peak on Monday, yet still there is a cloud over this day due to the past, the glow, and so many changes in life throughout the decades. The time is 1334, I have completed some chores and have a load of laundry in the washer. Very exciting. What did Edward say with so much sarcasm and a disgusted facial expression? ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ I cannot disagree. I can’t even swing the fucking hammer today. Moreover, my neighbor is having a bunch of people over for a turkey day shindig, complete with the grill and smoker on the driveway. I can’t even go over there and wish them a happy holiday. This is rather shitty. The major plus is that I am home for the rest of the year, if not beyond. I am fairly certain that my visit to the bar last Friday after work was the catalyst for this messed up week. Whatever. I am better thanks to the vaccinations. Perhaps I should remain mindful of how much worse this time could be. I should also count my lucky stars that the emotional turmoil which has recently increased ten-fold (if not more) all but disappeared when my health was called into question. I guess my brain can only process one at a time. Everything will return and hurt me soon enough. The weather is very warm, meaning I could be doing all manner of things around the house, yet once I am up and about for a few minutes, the muscle aches and fatigue set in pretty quickly. I have to be careful. Friday morning. Bethany is my first choice for a Christmas movie this year, and what a sight. All dark, yoga pants, unique lips... I’ve gone through some feelings for her appearance before. No coffee has been brewed since Monday and I don’t miss it all that much. Mint tea has always calmed me when necessary, and the last few days have been no different. Holy shit... I was seeing Torrey, not Bethany. I kept switching back and forth between two channels to figure out which movie to watch and thought Bethany was in both of them. As it turns out, the two actors resemble each other quite a bit and had me confused for a time. Was I this mixed up last year while gushing? Damn, do they ever look alike sometimes. I guess I never ran across both of them at the same time on different channels. Looks like it’s going to be a long holiday season. Anyway, I did what I could yesterday and rested often. The kitchen worked out well, plus I was able to make some soup. I also installed the ESC in the drone and now simply need to solder the leads and then test. Torrey’s rear end is larger than last year. I can understand that. I put on all kinds of weight during the past eighteen months. Heh. She is on the television, whereas I am nobody. And the face is key, anyway. Lines are one thing, eyes are another. Second mug of tea, nice and hot. The weather today may mirror yesterday, meaning if I am feeling up to it I can continue with the catch-up work and break out some Christmas decorations and tree stuff. The solder work on the drone is a quick deal, too. I have a head start on everything today thanks to feeling a bit more energetic yesterday. Onward and upward, and still no difficulty related to ‘her’ or the obsession. Yes, the actors on these channels starring in holiday movies are going to generate all manner of thoughts, yet deep inside I am more concerned with my health and recovery right now. Everything will return in force, guaranteed. I can wait. 0725 on Saturday morning. I’ve been feeling a little better each day. Christmas movies are going to be dominating the television for a little whale until the game starts, and then I’ll work on my usual stuff. Yesterday we put up the tree and lights, meaning today will be the fun part with all of the decorations. There was an inkling just now as I heated water for tea... A feeling I’ve not had in some days. Looks like I was correct yesterday. Everything is returning and this morning is the beginning. Storm on the horizon. Shit on the bowsprit. Debris on the rails. This may be where everything must change. Throw the dice... Throw all of them. We rollin’... Pants on the television. Lying on her side, feet and knees together, with the rear looking picturesque and symmetrical just pointing itself out to the world. This is very unusual for a Hallmark movie. They generally shy away from making any actor look overly shapely, although sometimes there is nothing that can be done. My mood is going to fall away today. Let us see what we can do with the fucking wake. The black pants are now wrapping her shape. And next to her is another woman with dark everything. There are the pants again. New scene. Ah... The dark one again, all full, pouting lips and big eyes. And the pants. Dark blue sweater. Plowing... A black skirt. This is November. I have been here before. I have seen it before. That was another time, yet somehow it is now. I was there, now I am here, yet I have not moved. The black skirt looks delicious. That other November was not good in ten ways and good in just one. And the good turned to very bad. And the bad turned worse. I went over there for a visit and returned three weeks later, two inches shorter of brain and longer of woe. The thought was born. An idea weaved its way into my head due to being slighted, passed over, ignored and disregarded for a time, and years later the idea became doctrine. The black skirt is a representation of exactly half of the topic. Half of the idea, as well. The other half is veiled. It is covered with the dusty scrim of life. Sometimes it is wrapped in black yoga pants. I need to take care of the usual business today and then work in the office a little bit. That angry feeling is right behind everything I’m trying to plan for the day, and it feels as if the two lines which have been converging all year are now within view. Not the lines I need, only those which have been grading the periphery of my life toward a center point. All I can do is watch. Much of what happens is my decision, too. The negatives have piled atop each other for long enough – some being due to my actions – yet still the remaining circumstances came about (and continue to develop) as haunted by the past and aspects of living which were far beyond my control. Sunday, November 27th. ‘The daggers went in deep; vile and sickening.’ The norm. It is here. I am so broken that the pieces elude even the sharpest of magnifying glasses. The girl with the cooking show is on the television for a minute as I find something other than Christmas movies for this morning. I can barely contain the desire to devour her entire body sometimes, especially considering this morning marks my head returning to that dark, desperate place it inhabited prior to being under the weather. Hmm... Feeling ‘under the weather’ was interrupted by feeling ‘under the weather’. I have to switch to one of the shows. I’ve been buried in pants so far this weekend and do not want any more of it. In addition, there has been confirmation of something I’ve been mentioning for months. Well, actually I’ve felt it since roughly the beginning of last year and brought it up here later. No detail, of course. This morning has effectively demonstrated the idea that my happiness doesn’t fucking matter. There you go. Fuck the rest. The daggers, indeed. I am alone. Damn those closet doors, anyway. This is such a bad situation, and the fact that there is nothing I can do about it only generates anger and frustration. On the heels of that is the feeling that I can’t be unkind to other people, meaning the bottom line becomes clear due to such a gradient. I just have to sit here and fucking live with it. Nice. The only speaking is through this site, yet too much of what I place here is unclear. Nice, again. This past week I felt a little more comfortable because everything had been shut off or delayed. Now I can see that the temporary comfort was not real. There has been no true comfort for many, many years. Always... Something right there behind the facade and waiting to cause problems. I really don’t want or need any more of that shit from people. Today will be the typical work along with my football game during the early afternoon. I do like the later games better because the time allows me to complete most of my Sunday business prior to kickoff. 0857. I have yet to rise and work on my stuff. That section of my brain which blew up this morning is haunting me and will not let up. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I did not ask for this shit. 1125. The morning game is midway to being finished. My game is still two hours away. I completed the routine and have a bit of garbage work out of the way. I need to install batteries into some snowflake decorations that will be lined up along the driveway for the season. The sunshine is helping to make the house comfortable, meaning I can probably finish the drone repair and run a test at some point. The garbage is pretty straightforward this week. And since I pulled the trigger on my twin computer monitors, a bit of office organization may be on tap for this afternoon in and around the football game. Monday. The early morning had me thinking, and then a little something came along and made me think even more. There are lots of reasons I became tired of people. Most of them date back to the late glow. Some have come along more recently and are related to a certain segment of the population. Now I am in the mindset of being completely closed to people. I cannot say what is taking place here, though. If I spell it out, too much may be revealed about other issues I’ve had with society in the past and the flood will arrive before I know it. I can’t have that. The important point to remember is that my mood follows along with how others affect me at times, and right now I am less than happy to say the least. I need to keep this within the yard, too. An abundance of shit due to being angry is going to muddy the site content. I’ve done it too many times before and know how it starts. The early morning issues that came along yesterday and then repeated today are going to push me in a similar direction. Whenever the camel is forced into spitting, there is only one resulting stance. I honestly don’t know what else to do and never really learned to cope with frustration, so anger is key. This being Monday morning means at least a small part of my head can remain centered upon housework. I really wish that had not happened this morning. I don’t need more reasons to push against people. This is one half of the mood. Ugh. My sense of taste has been mostly absent for the last few days (understandable, too), but now it is returning and my coffee tastes a bit off-kilter. Rats. I did not miss the taste that much, to be honest. I just didn’t really care because my health had been fucked up and I had bigger fish to fry. The coffee being normal would be nice right now, though. I miss it. Wow. This crap from earlier is really ringing my bell today. I’ll have to do my best to avoid too much pissy behavior. One certainty about this type of situation is that once I become angry, no one else is aware of the reasons. Secrecy is the word of the day. Much of what I say here is already pretty unclear, but the anger remaining behind closed doors is much more important of late. I suppose one could see this feeling as yet another tiny method for me to maintain some control over an aspect of life. Believe me, whenever there is something I can control, it will be embraced to the nth. Well, until the need wears off and everything fades, that is. Anyway, if I continue to state how angry I am with a person’s words or actions, eventually no one will give a shit. Time forces everything to fade, honestly. Everything. This will be no different. Just know that something came along in life which made me look behind the scrim to see the reality of a small situation, and now I am aware of potential problems in the future. I can now avoid them. You’d think this to be a positive, but the underlying cause is too stirring for me to focus upon the benefits. I have already been angered and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Wait a minute... There is a positive that I can embrace easily, and that is the work. I’ll end up more productive due to feeling upset. To whom it may concern: Thanks for the rankling issue. Hmm. Another may be the idea that any other issue rearing its head this morning has been squashed. I might remove the image in favor of something else. There you go. Learn about the birth of Silicon Valley. I have not discussed her face or eyes in some days. I believe the reason is I’ve run out of things to say. The pants and legs on the television throughout the past week could also have been placed here, but you already know shit like that is going to happen, be it in fiction or walking down my street. I don’t see the point in belaboring such crap anymore. The girl is in my head and heart and there is not a fucking thing I can do about her. Nothing. Erin is on the television in a blue dress (of all things) and I want to fly up inside it like a deranged pelican, yet to describe those feelings is completely useless. Just like my desire to disregard Erin and others like her, I think the focus needs to move away from ‘her’ eyes and toward those little steps I can take in order to convince a certain number of real people that I’ve hit a limit with this shit. I know who she is and can’t do anything. I can’t say anything. There is no point in going around the world with the same words if I am just going to end up right back here completely pissed off. No point. I will probably mention her from time to time, but nothing more. Erin is funny looking sometimes. Doesn’t matter. Well then. I’ll have to try to forget her and just leave the situation alone for a while. Nothing permanent, though. That may be impossible. I am already past the point of no return anyway, meaning I’ve pushed too much to the screen in recent years to actually think there can be a resolution. I know bullshit when I see it. Maybe once the new desktop system is in place I can shift everything to one side and continue doing whatever seems best for the duration. I used to sit there with a big cocktail and wonder how I ended up inside such a small space. Now I just become angry because of the same. There is not nearly as much questioning. I’ll have to do my best with this crap. I don’t see another way to maintain my sanity. Anger will have to suffice for the time being. I can only be strained for so long before the mood turns to ash. I already know why she pulls at me so much, anyway. I know. There is a resemblance in reality and a connection in my mind, both of which have pretty well solidified the feelings of need. I went back to pairs of eyes and realized they were two parts of the same turning point and leaving me craving those same eyes listening to my desperate words. Now there is a third pair of eyes that connected my heart to another situation that I can’t forget or understand, yet the pull is greater than ever. I know who she is and what I need. This may be worse than having no knowledge of the source. Right over there. Light years away. Trillions of miles. The connection I made inside my mind doesn’t matter to another soul on this fucking planet, let alone anyone who can help. I have to sit here and pound sand, as it were. That is the other half of being so upset. There is a feeling attached to the memory of walking through the Macy’s Cellar and toward Burberry Lane in the midst of the glow. It is rarefied and special beyond words. The smells, the lights, and the company. There is another feeling from ‘96 related to my parents, the computer and defense electronics industries, and the valley. It is equally special and marks the very beginning of my writing. The last time I drove through there I was very upset due to so many changes. Both those images are gone, and I keep thinking of something on the television last night, a line of hope. ‘The past is not something to lament. It is something upon which to build’ [sic]. I must disagree because not everyone has the ability to put bad things or mistakes into perspective and file them away for education. That is bullshit. I don’t like the implication that I cannot be sad and miss good parts of my life that I may not have fully appreciated at the time. I keep looking back and seeing myself feeling better than I do at this moment, so the correlation is shining. Don’t tell me that I can’t deal with the present as I see fit. More importantly, there are two situations from the long past which continue to plague me each day. I cannot remove them, I cannot go back there and tell people to go fuck themselves (or worse), nor can I speak to those responsible right now and try to make them understand the fruit of their unfeeling actions. Now tell me that I am supposed to react a certain way to what has transpired decades ago. Tell me not to be angry and wish to destroy them. Maybe you’ll see the lack of outlet as much as I do, and maybe not. Jesus fuck, is this woman in the movie fucking gorgeous. Wow. Whatever. Just another vision with which I can do nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Shut up. Fuck you. No matter what I try to say, shit goes bad. I sit here and try to analyze and then the words are shoved back in my direction. I don’t think there is anything I can do about the negative feelings right now. That means I’ll continue as I see fit. Someone is going to have a problem with it because no one seems to understand that reading what is placed here is an option in life. No one needs to read this but me. Go somewhere else, please. Let me do what I am doing and attempt to make sense of the world. Stay out of the way and don’t interrupt. Go make your own site and type what you feel. I don’t care and I won’t read it. Maybe no one should be here in the first place. A password? No... Locking this is too difficult. I can keep it to myself, I suppose, because sooner or later there will be one or more people with a fucking problem. This is line number 666. I just hit another wall. I don’t like walls. This woman on the screen keeps looking better and better but she’s not causing all sorts of problems. Just beautiful, nothing more. Pretty eyes, slender features, dark skin. I think I’ve been too upset this morning to want to jump her shit. It is nice to see a dark-skinned woman without a huge rear end, though. Very well-proportioned, that one. Anyway, I need to take care of the routine soon because the clock pays no mind to my problems. The sun is shining like yesterday, so hopefully I can finish the drone and run a test. I’ve let that sit for too long. Wow, she is quite slender. Ugh. Whatever. This entry is fucking stupid. I wanted to go on about her eyes, but alas the virus and other distractions have completely derailed my equating them to Laura and Michelle number two. I don’t know what the hell I can say that will accomplish anything at this point in time. There have been too many issues to consolidate into something productive or with enough understanding to help the situation. Had I not seen her two weeks ago, much of this would not exist. I keep trying but end up rolling the train in a circle and eventually coming right back to the same fucking problems. I was talking about the rails last night. There was a Christmas movie set almost entirely on a train and I thought about the signal loss from phones when they were in the mountains. That led to the rails. And then I remembered speaking with a Union Pacific ‘maintenance of way’ employee way back in the early nineties about the possibility of finding work on the railroad. He told me there was to be a merger between Union Pacific and SP and the likelihood of my coming in from the dry cold and applying for work was probably not a good idea. He suggested I go to the offices in the City and apply rather than through any of the yards. The rails upon which he had been working were very close to my work, too. There was a switch and a wye not far from our office where I spent most nights. Wow, this woman in the current movie looks like a cat. I’m not kidding, either. Anyway, during one slow night when all was quiet, I decided to begin jotting down the times when I heard locomotives cruising by. Some time later, I drove over to an intersection and waited behind a restaurant where the rails crossed both roads at an angle. The space was roughly a hundred feet long and I waited on one side next to a fence. The line was straight and I knew the headlight would wash the area prior to the train actually rolling by. Well, I had been mistaken as to the direction of the trains I had heard up to that point and was caught off-guard by a four-unit train approaching me from the southeast rather than northwest. It was rolling along pretty fast, meaning the air was piling up in front and deceiving my ability to localize the sound. I was certain the train would approach from the north, too. Rumbling; rails creaking and sizzling with electricity; and then I saw the wash of light and spun on my heels to see two headlamps (one in motion) advancing on my position too quickly for escape to someplace further away. The train was right there eight feet from my body and flew by accompanied by wind and my nervous shaking. I was completely surprised and pinned to the fence for a full half-minute. That was the last time I tried to catch a closeup glimpse of one train rolling by. Subsequent attempts to record sound or shoot photographs were performed a few years later near my parents’ house in an open area on the mainline. No more confined spaces for me. A million tons of steel at forty-plus miles per hour makes quite an impact when a person is that close to the rails. I spoke of that incident because I was reminded last night, and believe me when I say that yesterday is one I would like to forget forever. Something took place nearly a day ago which has me more concerned than ever about my physical well-being. The only choice was to work around the house and try to forget everything. The train-related Christmas movie helped quite a bit. The cat-woman is looking better and better with a mass of lines on display and my brain trying to sneak into her clothing. Ah... She is now wearing a different outfit, thank Christ. There are no trains on this side of the bay aside from light rail and the commuter system running from the City all the way to the south. Those are different from freight trains, believe me. Very quiet and smooth as opposed to overpowering and heavy. One of these days I need to grab the big camera and find some location where I can once again shoot the trains, or at least the locomotives. The last occasion to shoot was twelve years ago not far from the southeast corner of the Sea in Niland. Well, the drive is real close to six hundred miles and I am not making that trip to grab a few hours’ worth of lens time. No way. I’ll have to figure something out closer to home. The only way to be there for some photographic adventuring would be to take the same trip over again, just like some years ago. The more I look back at that week, the more fond I am of the memory. I’ll come up with a destination one of these days. The map always calls my name and gets the sense of adventure all wound up tight until I start planning something crazy. Now that I have looked around for a while, the need to get the hell out of here and drive away for a while is beginning to expand. I don’t know about six hundred miles to the Sea, but something will come up soon. The trains drive my sense of direction at times. More often than not, actually. ‘She’ has a train, too. It is buried deep inside and rules the traffic in her head. That is the thing with a train... There is no altering the route or changing direction on a whim. The rails are fixed and a person goes wherever the train may dictate. No one can argue the route. Not at all. Right now my locomotive is idling in place just to keep the heat going. The controls await the end of this holding pattern. I have to get the hell out of here soon, perhaps my birthday in less than two months. That week will mark five years since the last road trip and I’m just itching to go somewhere with the camera in tow. Last year I came up with a hell of a route all over northern Nevada but the idea fell away like so many others in the past. My birthday always allows for some freedom to plan, hence the long trip five years back. Another gorgeous, slender woman in this movie. That never stops. Anyway, a week is not a long time for driving, so I’ll have to come up with some places that aren’t too far apart, also considering the furthest point from home being midway through the trip rather than at the end. I don’t like having to traverse hundreds of miles on the last day. Palm Desert may be too far this time, too. Wow, she is something to see. Five-nine and all that goes with it. Jesus. Whatever. I have other fish to fry. The memories of Palm Desert have been taking over this morning because of the Sea and landscape down there. Winter is very sharp and cool, the weather remaining mild throughout the cooler seasons, yet clear much of the time. That makes for some very stark images in the camera. I really don’t want to drive six hundred miles, although the first destination does not have to be the last. I could travel there for a few days and then keep another location in mind to drive part way home instead of enduring such a long drive at the end of the week. That may be best, and could facilitate some great time near the rail yards, not to mention the sea itself. I’ll have to think about this for a while. 1151 on the same day, Tuesday the 29th. Lunch is in the oven and I finished my daily routine. The drone failed its test yesterday, meaning the guy will be stopping by later this week to pick it up. I was sure I found and eliminated the problem, but alas those devices are very complex. I tried, though. My truck sits idle as it awaits inspiration. All I’ve done in the garage for the last few days is ensure everything remains organized. I don’t know what else to do out there. I wish yesterday had not happened. That is to say there was an incident which caught me off-guard and I may be ill-equipped to cope. This is something which came along some years ago but seemed temporary. I can’t explain, unfortunately. I can barely scratch this kind of topic, actually, because everything will come back and back and back again. I can’t have that type of thing right now because I am already far enough down. Wednesday morning, early. Another day, another set of dreams I do not understand. Oh, there is Jessica. Splendid. There had been a time when I really wanted to... Not anymore. Now I just stare. She just turned thirty-four a little while back. Fucking stunning woman, that one. Every now and again there is a touch of light coming through and it tells me that her lines are in place like never before. That is very rare, and something to which I’ve been glued for years. Seeing the lines and the face at the same time is a little overwhelming. She keeps showing up in black pants and a lovely white sweater with that brown hair all over the place. I’m going to begin dreaming about her again just like a few years ago, I know it. The lines are too much and her face is unique, both of them leaving me to realize that what happened the other day is merely a symptom of a much larger issue. Damn... She donned the long coat again. I wish things were different. I wish life could be different. Yesterday I became so lost in the afternoon that I was forced to agree to work today and tomorrow just to have something to do other than wallowing. I realize that may sound stupid after declaring the intention of taking off the rest of the year, but honestly the feeling was THAT bad for a while. I have to get out of here, and I’m not talking about a trip. Just a few hours away in order to instill the feeling of being overjoyed at arriving home again in the afternoon. I need it right now. The work yesterday was fine; my mood was not. I passed the time for a while prior to coming back inside for the evening relaxation. Music, beer, lousy attitude... The whole thing. Hopefully, this evening will come along and find me feeling better than the last two days. I could use a boost, plus the cash doesn’t hurt during this time of year. The legacy commercials always pop up each year at the outset of the holiday season. I keep using my middle finger to point to the screen, yet the fault of what happened does not belong to the software. I never should have headed in such a direction because the only result was anger. My dreams of the past ended up becoming confusing and skewed, nothing more. No help was served, no good information uncovered. I started out excited and a month later felt disillusioned and angry. Others can enjoy that work. Not me. I will not head in such a direction again in this life. I guess the subject makes me cunty sometimes. Oh, Jessica. Just let me... Please. Ugh. Please. Help me. Almost time to get ready. I don’t think the work will bother me at all today because I’m already aware of the lay of the land at that job, and the general is a friend of mine from years back. Everything operates very smoothly. The first time on a site can be overwhelming, but this will be my fifth day. 0603 on Thursday. Christmas movies have been ruling the dial since last week, partly due to my desire to see more than I should. Big surprise. The incident from the other day still has me at sixes and sevens. I don’t know what to do or how to alter the situation. This shit has been trying to take over my thinking for days. The work yesterday helped me to rid myself of worry over the future and a big question that keeps repeating whenever I am feeling lost. I don’t want to spell it out here. Work is fine. The money is coming in which helps with my Christmas planning, too. This is quite a change from last year. The other problem from early in the year is reinforcing this new shit and pushing me to think that such a change may be permanent. I will say in no uncertain terms that what comes to mind before anything else is my time with Andrea while we were at the Polynesian. We discussed much of life – both good and bad nearly all of the time – and commented often on the idea that the situation we had created for ourselves was idyllic and could possibly ruin the future for one or both of us. I am now beginning to feel that those days and weeks jaded my sense of comfort and may indeed have ruined any possibility of finding the good in life without believing that the bad has already come along and outweighed anything in the future, as if all the doors are already shut and there is no reason to search. That is not a very nice thought, even for me. I do not deal well with seemingly impossible situations. And I’ll try to avoid getting into the idea that what we shared back then was destructive and altered my beliefs in a bad way. I can’t have that right now. Ugh. 1610, same day. There is a Christmas movie on (naturally), the third of several. My head is completely overloaded from what I’ve seen and felt today. The work was just fine. We solved problems and advanced the entire project nicely. Unfortunately, between the previous movie, one guest beauty in the current movie, and the fucking cleaning girls across the street from the job, I am just about fit to be tied. The main reason was the movie. I could not keep my eyes in their sockets when that woman was on the screen. Oh, of course... The big eyes, long, slender legs, skirts, pants, the whole fucking shitaree. Damn it. And on the heels of the cleaning girls? Not good, damn it. Not good. I am going to lose my shit. I should not be watching these films, but inside of me is a hole that cannot be filled no matter what takes place in life, now or in the future. The fact remains that I become mesmerized over and over by the sheer level of artwork from time to time and have become too weak to resist anything that will hurt me. The words in my brain during those seconds cannot be repeated here, although I believe some measure has crept out of the shadows during the past few years. I just can’t help it. Keep in mind that the damage and desperation inside me are far worse than whatever I’ve tried to spell out on the site. Much worse, actually. I don’t even know how I made it this far once realizing that there is no future for me. There is nothing I can do about any of it, yet I keep looking and dreaming. Maybe I’m just a fuckin’ idiot. ‘Historically, that’s been the case.’ Thanks Tony. The woman in this movie that blew my skirt up is a fringe guest. Just a few appearances throughout two hours. Her face is all exaggerated like Tricia and she is very tall. I always notice the height because of all the stretched features. I still don’t know the whole story about the height thingy, though. Maybe watching the VS fashion shows years ago jaded me. I don’t fucking know, but it continues to this very second. The darkness is another mystery. Oh, there is the woman again. Maybe I can watch her walk and look at the lines. Splendid. Friday, 0609. I agreed to help again today at the job. Hopefully, we will be leaving there early like yesterday. I need time to think. The problem from early in the year is occupying my mind again this morning and I have no solution as of yet. This is very disconcerting, to say the least. As I mentioned before, there could be a solid reason why I’ve been feeling this way of late, but whether or not I am certain, it is not something I can place on the site. I will say in no uncertain terms that such an issue has never happened before and has the power to stop everything I do. I can also state that I believe I know why my sympathetic nervous system has begun to malfunction. One thing leads to another in life, meaning my path may have held the keys to the problems that I am experiencing right now. I can’t be sure, but it makes sense. I went from one extreme to another, and then back again only to find myself lost like never before. This is not a good situation by any means, and seems to be worsening as the days pass. I am more concerned at this very moment than at any time throughout the past year. Not good. The only kind of mood that can result from this type of thing is anger, pure and simple. I really did not feel like heading out the door yesterday morning and am the same right now. The hours will pass, though, and I’ll make it back here just fine during the early afternoon. The morning is the tough part because when I am in the mood to sit here and write, nothing else can compare. I have plenty of time ahead, however. I can help and earn some money in the short term only to reap the benefits later. The cash is really helping my holiday gift acquisitions. Time to get ready. 1418, same day. Work was both short-lived and productive. We accomplished everything that had been outlined. No cleaning girls, no designer in painted-on pants, no nothing. Just work. I have not forgotten this morning’s thoughts, however. They are still floating inside and hurting me. I have half the routine finished and will tackle the other half in a little while. There is an icy cocktail to my right. Believe me, I need it. I will not venture past the tipping point today, despite the rampant sadness and pain slathered all over my heart. One of these days, perhaps... Never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d be in this type of situation after all these years. Never. This is completely fucking ridiculous and I am growing more angry by the day. The most important aspects of life are more elusive than even the Passion. Again... This is fucking ridiculous. I am definitely going to flip the fuck out one of these days and then be held responsible for my actions by those who do not understand. The situation will be hilarious and harmful and I am going to do nothing more than laugh. The more trouble and discomfort I cause, the more I shall laugh. Perhaps I’ll run aslant of the wrong individual and be shot in the neck. 0721 on Saturday morning. I am sideways and there is no fixing it. I honestly don’t know what to say now. I’ve summed up quite a bit recently and now when I sit here at the keyboard in the morning I have little to type. Everything has been said. Well, everything I CAN say without being thrown out with the bath water, anyway. No details. For the last three years, I’ve been dreaming of situations and ideas and then placing some of them here to try and analyze or understand why my head moves in certain directions. I tried to learn if everything stemmed from the obsession, the trauma, or those incidents in between when I was put down. Now I just sit here and describe my work days or routine. I mention the beautiful women that come across the screen during the Christmas movies that I should not be watching (I learned earlier this morning that I can see some of my favorites without waiting for the actual broadcast dates and times). I am really tired of this crap... Sitting at the computer in the morning while feeling very down and alone and then typing the same terms as all the other mornings. I have been thinking that something will change or I’ll find some realization that forces a change in the way I have been living. Nope. Two-plus million words in just three years speak to the contrary. On many occasions I’ve asked if there is a point to this endeavor and the answer never really matters. I just keep going. The truth is that I feel more lost and angry right now than I did prior to the big site swing of fifteen. Seventeen was pretty bad, too. That summer had me reaching further than ever in my life and still nothing came of it. Now? That is all history and I look back at it almost daily just for the reminders (and sometimes the timeline). I am tired. Not too long ago, someone in the real world took issue with a few things I wrote and displayed here during the last summer. I was surprised. I was also taken aback due to the nature of the words. I shut that down right quick, believe me. That person will not be addressing me regarding the site, ever. Months have passed since it happened and I’ve gone over some of the content just to see if I could find something that stood out from what has become the norm here. I found nothing that could raise a flag, so everything remains as it is. No matter how many times I try to point out that this exploration is all mine and subject to no restrictions whatsoever, a situation arises out of the clear, blue sky and catches me off-guard. That fact has pushed me to think that if this content helps no one, why is it still public? Good question. I am going to make a change right now that will partially answer such a question. Done. 0936. The soccer match was a failure. I think this country is out of the running. Damn. My game is on at five. The only team that matters, remember? The day is wide open and I have no idea of what to do aside from the routine. There is a Christmas movie on, naturally, but no issues within the story. I’m sure that will change later today. Oh... I see two Ashley movies running consecutively. Splendid. Her nose alone is the stuff of dreams. Whatever. They will probably play in the background if I don’t switch back to the second show later. Right now I don’t really care which because either way my head will descend into her pants. I am a basket case. Shenae is wearing Christmas tree pajamas. Super cute. As for the rest of the movie, wow is there ever a gorgeous face on the screen. Blonde hair, but still... Holy crap. And one more time for posterity... Whatever. The day is wide open and I will have to find a direction soon. I can only sit here and complain for so long before slamming the laptop shut. This entire shitaree is worthless, anyway. Where is the train? The topic seems to have been lost toward the top of the page and I don’t give a shit. My level of creativity is very low right now, and that is why the titles no longer match the essays. Not only that, but the long series which began a few years ago without a conclusion is languishing in ‘development hell’. There is another part to the story, too. It’s about one hundred lines long. Nothing more. I stopped trying to continue that tale very early this year because the heartache took over and I couldn’t think straight. This is a daily issue now. Don’t expect anything of note on this site in the future, and keep in mind the most important part of such a fact: I don’t care. I’ve covered about as much as I can given the tools in my brain. Everything has been working against me for far too long to continue holding it together all by myself. Period. I can’t get myself to care no matter the circumstances. 1156 and holy shit... Not one, but two Ashley movies in a row. The first is playing right now and my head exploded while cleaning the kitchen. Oh, and not just her, either. The co-star is unbelievably adorable. She actually rivals Ashley in some respects. God damn is Ashley ever something to see in jeans and looking like a million bucks. Fuck me in a snowy ditch, that woman is an encyclopedia of dark beauty. Four hours of her on both televisions. I’m going to lose my shit today. I don’t know if her face has graced this site, but I believe it should (in spades). What I wouldn’t give to... As I said, part of the routine is finished. I am not in a hurry at all today. None of this shit seems to matter after being so down for weeks. Months? Years? Ugh. Good fucking God, that woman’s face makes me insane. It is chiseled. I had forgotten since the last holiday season, believe it or not. Jesus. Anyway, some of my work around the house is not terribly appealing right now but it has to be done regardless of my level of motivation. I added an image of Ashley just before the last section. Her face as framed by her hair is quickly rising in both beauty and importance. Sunday morning, 0707. My coffee has peppermint cream inside. Good stuff. I have a nice, mellow Christmas movie on right now for posterity. Lots of blonde hair again. I guess many people like the lighter colors. I don’t, yet the two main characters are super cute. After yesterday’s Ashley overload (not to mention her Asian hybrid sidekick), I could use a break from gawking at the television and remaining distracted all day. The game came and went, dinner came and went, and I slept. This is all so very exciting. I guess this site is running on empty, as Jackson Browne might say. There may be nothing more to explore here because I can’t say that much and I’ve learned very little anyway. The last year in particular has been nothing more than realizing that I am missing one hell of a connection and every other idea for exploration or learning is impossible in these late days. Sometimes all I see when I sit here during the mornings is some information and exposition about the house or whatever I might be doing, be it working in the outside world or right here at home. That is all. And then the faces and pants on the television. And then the difficulties I see each day that are slowly taking me apart. Around and around and back to the beginning. Running on empty, or at least very close. I have to do something different. Everything seems to force me into the same position at some point each day, and that is being angry about this situation. I can’t do anything about anything, and I’ve been thinking lately that even if I did force some sort of change, the inside of me will be exactly the same. What would be the point? The past is unchangeable, and the more people tell me to leave it in the rear view mirror, the angrier I become due to sitting here as a product of that time and unable to rise from it. There is too much power in those memories, period. No matter where I go or what I may do, the memories will not change. I can say the same shit in only so many different ways. One of the minor characters in this movie has an amazing mouth. Such an observation actually labels me, believe it or not. I am not supposed to point out details or I’m a sexist. Well, then I am a sexist. I am of only one sex and to believe I can live my life without making observations or comments about the (much) more attractive half of the world is completely unrealistic. Her mouth is gorgeous but difficult to describe. Shoot me. I am already miserable. May as well point out the details. I have heard worse from other people, near and far. I don’t even know why I became defensive. None of this matters. And I forgot that the site content is inaccessible to anyone but me. Very good. There she is again... The lovely smile. I have a very skewed sense of reality and a distorted view of society. Those two combined are much of the drive behind describing some errant woman that I see in the world or on television, also reinforced by living the way I have for the last many years. The compulsion grew from obsession, and the obsession grew from a few possible situations in the past. I still can’t point directly to any of them, however. I can only surmise to know for sure of something concrete. The point is that I know when I sit here like this and see the actors on the screen, there are two certainties. One is that the characters are fictional and often WAY off what is actually living in real society. The other is the idea that despite the fact that they are actors, I still see real people and draw similar dreams as I might for someone seen in person; the woman across the street a few weeks ago with the kids and the toy car, for example. Her legs screamed at me so badly that the work fell away and I felt pain inside due to the inability to see her lines closeup. I don’t know her and never will, just like the pretty smile on the television this morning. They are all the same and may as well not even exist. The bottom line is that my focus has been upon the very few rather than the whole of society. As such, my view of the other half of the population is extremely distorted from what is actually related to real life. Add in the science fiction and my dreams of a machine and one can see the image of my derealization coming together clearly. Sometimes when I look at someone I am not seeing a person. I am seeing an object. That means I am no longer fit to operate within society. Months ago I stated that my path has lines on either side which have been converging as time passes. Witness the result. And still no train. The last thing I would ever do is attempt to justify what I’ve become. I am only trying to paint a picture. 0821 and I am looking forward to doing my usual Sunday business today. I’ve been thinking about running one of my favorite shows in the background in favor of the Christmas movies because of the distraction. I know the shows backwards and forwards, meaning I don’t have to see everything and hear each word. It’s more relaxing that way. I’ll be here alone for a few hours like a typical Sunday. My little world will be under my little measure of control. Not bad. Jesus... Fair skin tone contrasted by bright red lipstick? Failure. Ugh. Whatever. She is still adorable for whatever reason, but all that blonde hair and red just ruins the image. Too bad. Anyway, I have a little to do in the kitchen and then whatever else might look appealing, after which will be the home-team football game that I will watch alone. The other day an idea came up to catch our game at the big restaurant not far from here with my buddy. I love sitting at their bar because the food is outstanding and the atmosphere is quite old-fashioned. Well, due to becoming infected weeks ago after a gathering at the other bar, I believe the safe choice (smarter, too) is to remain home. Believe me, I would love to perch myself there for hours with all that great food and watch my team, but I am afraid that the chance of problems is still too high. Another day, perhaps. Maybe closer to Christmas when I am feeling all nostalgic. The work today will hopefully keep my mind off any imperial entanglements. There is always something to do; I just don’t always have the motivation. After seeing Mallory the other night in several different outfits and hearing a comment from my partner regarding how ‘skinny’ she appeared, I believe both my view and taste in the female form has changed as recently as the last couple of years. Mallory is very slender, and after seeing her (especially wearing a beautiful pencil skirt) walk around the sets for two hours, I began to view Ashley as a tad larger than my taste, to be honest. And Ashley is slender, too. She is not as thin as Mallory, yet in the grand scheme she’s wonderfully built. I realize how this may sound, but the truth is I found the more slender of the two more attractive to my eyes, and I believe that view is here to stay. There is a limit, however. There is always a line present when it comes to the ratio of height to weight for people. ANY person, really. Even myself. I believe Mallory was close to that line, as her curves were still prominent but she could not tip the scale very much. I don’t know what that means, but I know what the issue is causing on the inside of my head, and that is the idea of my view still changing from the ‘runway model fascination days’ many years ago. This entire line of thinking can be very hazardous, as well. A flytrap for negative comments. Fortunately, there is presently no way for visitors to address me unless they are acquainted with me in the real world. Heh. I don’t have to listen to anyone. I just combined ‘Her X’ and ‘Her XI’ because I don’t give a shit. None of this means a fucking thing in the scheme of the world, anyway. I may as well spray paint my words on a beach. The result would be similar. I may alter the title again if this crap veers further from the opening lines. 0903 and another movie just began. I’ll have to transition into the Sunday business soon. I like to care for the floor and litter first thing because it feels like the door to the work is opened by doing so. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling. Anyway, the previous paragraphs have effectively tired me out for the time being. Outlining why I find one woman attractive and the next not at all is not easy, but I believe it is important to learn of the genesis of some of my interests because the knowledge may lead to understanding why I become so fucking depressed when I see the lines. The woman walking with her kids that day was likely the most striking example of dimensional passion so close to home. I was literally DYING to see everything and I still don’t know why that draw is so powerful and crippling at the same time. I keep trying, though. And despite what may come across as an ‘end’ to this exploration (like above), there can truly be no real conclusion. There is an Asian beauty with amazing lips in this movie. She is a flight attendant. Who cares? No one. I really need to begin the housework soon. Sunday is one of the good ones and I can’t lose sight of such a fact. Hopefully, the anger will not rear its ugly head and force my hand today. I don’t want to become pissy. Another flight attendant with big, dark eyes and a gorgeous mouth. Jesus. I’ve seen my fair share of lovely staff on aircraft, but this movie has them all confined to one fucking plane. Heh. Anyway, I am going on about the beauty too much this morning. I’m going to try to cease the description of every little thing that crosses my vision (good luck). What happened to the ‘train’? This has gone so far off the rails that I can’t even imagine what they look like anymore. Maybe I should return to writing about the desert and the little scorpions with headphones. Something just popped into my head when the characters in this movie climbed into a rental car. I can’t say what it is, though. Believe me, such a thought has been one of the largest questions and most stirring points of contention inside my brain for more than a decade. It is also a sidebar to the bulk of what I have written, nothing more. There are no degrees of the word 'impossible'. The term is an absolute. 1325. The routine is finished and I have some laundry going while the game is on. I went through the refrigerator and removed some science experiments, too. Yikes. The Sunday business is mostly finished. Very nice. Now I can focus upon the football game and take it easy. Monday morning and no work until I feel like it. Nothing but coffee and Christmas movies for the duration, or until such time as I deem myself ready to go out the door. I may shop at the big wine store later, but at least that is entirely up to me and subject to my whims and schedule. Work is different, although not as bad as it used to be a few years ago. I was really disillusioned with the entire process. These days everything seems mellow for some reason, even while in the midst of a job. If I do venture to the wine store, I may take a detour over to the electronics store and inquire about desktop systems for future reference. This day could prove very rewarding compared to the last couple of weeks. I actually feel very free right now. There are still problems swirling inside, but at least I have the time and space to think. I must try to avoid becoming really pissed off. Being at work does not allow me to dwell upon anything because of being busy all the time. Now that I am home after more than two weeks of either working a lot or being under the weather, the free time is opening my mind to those issues which had been ruling my mood for a very long time. There are too many, so I will refrain from going down a list. The point is I will have to try even harder to keep my temper and wording reined in from this day into the near future. That is a tall order after all this time. I will say being home this morning is very nice and feels rather liberating. Hopefully, this mood can continue without my flipping the fuck out. The train has gone awry. I had a really nice plan for creating a narrative around the recent discovery that ‘she’ may be nearby and the correlation between ‘her’ and her. For days I sat here and attempted to build a bit of a story which was to begin back in twenty when I was desperately searching for ‘something’ that felt a connection of sorts and then bring it forward to the present with my constant gushing for a certain character. There had been the realization that ‘she’ was here in town and resembled some of the facial expressions so closely that I lost my mind. The train was going to go all over the place and explore each destination as I lived through it during the past three years. Well, all that went to shit in the last few weeks as I became more and more disillusioned with trying to help myself, and more angry due to feeling so alone in this. The train never left the fucking station, meaning my narrative was halted before it ever had a chance to start moving. This is not good because I use trains and other devices as vessels for my deepest thoughts. Without them, I will fall on my face and sound like nothing more than a blathering idiot. Wonderful. 0829 and the inside of my head is a map of lines this morning. One more little nudge and I am off the balcony. 0856. Consider me 'nudged'. 0945. I am listening to one of the great unrequited loves of my life, the very same that drove my ass out the NASA gate nineteen years ago and straight to Las Vegas on a sunny fall morning. This music has been the catalyst for so many past entries that I probably can’t even count them all. Over the wireless MDRs, it is all-encompassing and violent. Sometimes I need it to carry me through a day, and today is the type. Pain on the inside, pain on the outside, and not a fucking thing I can do about either. This may be the day when the last huge mural on the inside of the garage door is outlined. I already have a few things going thanks to the compositions, meaning if my productive state can continue, the outline will begin later. This album drives me like nothing else in the world. I will find the fucking train soon enough. 1208. I finished almost everything and wrapped a few presents for Christmas. The typical cocktail is next to me. Also, I switched from music to the television for good form. Too much of certain music combined with alcohol will create a bad situation out of thin air. I can’t have such a thing right now. I need to maintain a positive stance today, or at least as positive as it can be after a shit morning. The incident which took place last weekend is weighing on my mind. I can’t get rid of it because the day could be a glimpse of the future, or it could be nothing at all. The only way I can react to such a day is with anger. I am so sick of everything that I’m surprised to be operating this site after all this time. Nothing helps me, most of all other people. I honestly don’t know what to do or say to people, anyway. They will believe whatever they wish and I’d rather be left out of the whole thing. The incident to which I refer is one of those issues which will not be detailed here, nor will I speak to another person about it no matter who may come along... Not even ‘her’. I will say that it holds the singular ability to destroy me, unlike anything else. If I disappear, no one will ever know why. 1559. Everything is finished and I have a roast sitting on the counter to warm prior to cooking. Dinner will be pretty easy this evening. The gangsters have been keeping me company as I work around the house, meaning the love of my life has been appearing here and there. Another step toward the new desktop system was accomplished, too. I need to order a chair for that room. Once again, the last component will be the machine. I don’t need to be in a hurry because this computer has the power to run twin displays until I can acquire the desktop. The most important step right now is a chair. ‘Tis the season to be FUCKING FLOORED by beauty. That's right, kids. The damaging dream slammed my head for a short time and I could not operate my brain for several minutes. Once again, everything flared. Right fucking there and a trillion miles away. Improbable? Nope. Impossible. One of the most stirring visions of my life, yet again. A situation requiring just enough strength for me to lose my way for the remainder of the night. Right fucking there. I am recording a movie involving a train combined with unique beauty and it won't matter in the least when held against the most powerful draw imaginable. The visage is unparalleled. I am going to flip out tomorrow. The world beware. Stare. Unaware. Hair. Right... Under... THERE. I have never yearned so much for anything. This is very bad. So close... 0706 on Tuesday and I still have that image inside my brain. The thoughts in my head during those moments were more desperate than anything in recent memory. Yesterday was bad enough without having such wonder right next to me, even if it was short-lived. The morning turned into a pile of shit, I then kicked into gear and accomplished a ton of work, and then the afternoon sun angle opened my mind to the Christmas glow until destiny hit me upside the head hard enough to force visions I should not be embracing. Moreover, just a little while later in the evening I recorded a movie starring one of the great loves from the last decade after having lost track of her career for quite some time. Between her very unique face and several early shots of her lines, I set in to watch the entire film while almost constantly rubbing my forehead as if the world was coming to an end and saving it was up to me alone. Nice. I watched the whole movie and lost my shit twenty times over seeing her again, all the while with the damaging dream and the scent of something full of torture dangling right behind my eyes. The combination of the damage and the movie was too much for me and I called it a day. Now I have to think about everything, like always, yet worse. I really didn’t need both visions in the space of two hours. I just changed all of the images to one person because she reminds me of someone who used to be close to me. No, not a person mentioned here. Someone else from the past. Lyndsy was in the movie last night and created a wonderland of memories and visions from a more peaceful time in my life. Her smile melts me to this day, so Lyndsy now graces the entire entry. This is much better than the haphazard melange of images that were here before today. I can’t think straight. The female lead in this movie has duck lips. Cute. I don’t know how I am able to hold it together during those moments when everything spins out of control, like last night. The incident was unexpected and I was unprepared for the experience, especially considering the circumstances since last summer (which I cannot explain). Believe me, if the subject was available for comment here, I would have already written reams of information to attempt to describe both the situation and my feelings. All of the words are right there at my fingertips, too. Right there. I would love to lay it all out here, but unfortunately the site would not be the same and I can’t have this apple cart upset right now. Last night I was moving around the house trying to locate a few items and tools, all the while thinking that the sheer level of disbelief over the entire affair was unprecedented in my life. Afterward, I moved around the house again, that time muttering and mumbling to myself and trying to maintain my posture without completely losing it. I succeeded, returned to dinner preparations, and finally had the meal. And then Lyndsy appeared on the television and sent me flying further into orbit. That was more than enough for one fucking evening. There is a positive to this, as well. Yep, a positive. The level of strength inside me last night peaked and all of the feelings were closed off so much that anyone standing before me would have been completely buried in snowfall. I have become an expert at putting up the largest artificial expressions and long lines of bullshit in order to keep the truth absolutely buried. An expert. Part of that is fear and another part is strength. I know not from where the latter came, but I appreciate the ability. I need it, in fact, or everything will come crashing down on my tired head. Not a smidgen of emotion or difficulty can come forth. Nothing. I will have to continue the bullshit facade for the duration, as well. There are no changes on my horizon, only more arduous moments requiring my massive snow-making machine. I keep seeing imagery from yesterday and I feel like my head is going to explode. The damaging dreams were just that – dreams, and nothing more. When reality comes along and pops me upside the head like that, I really don’t know how to react other than clamming up and spewing bullshit in random directions in order to throw possible difficulties off the trail of my genuine feelings. The situation must remain under wraps or bad things are going to happen. My immediate reaction was a defensive posture. That posture remained long enough for me to regain my composure (inside) and continue the afternoon while daydreaming of the most improbable imagery in the world. I can’t say it's impossible because there have been stranger and more far-fetched situations in the past which actually took place. This one? Unlikely, yet I cannot deny the reality that things can change. I’m not holding my breath, though. 0837 and I can still remember everything. There were seconds in which I thought I saw something there, yet I cannot know after hours have passed and no inquiry would be acceptable. None of this is going to make any sense to others, anyway. I haven’t really said anything, but at the same time – and with my knowledge of the inner workings of my own head – I’ve gushed a ton of information. I thought there was a glimpse, but the only way to be certain would be to ask questions and that is not going to happen. The whole shitaree shall reside inside my mind and nowhere else on earth. What I believed I saw is actually possible and that is the bottom line. I don’t believe it was wishful thinking (although that is not such a stretch). I am proud of myself for not losing my shit last night. There’s another positive for you. And... Today. Last night I said I was going to flip out today. I don’t feel the same, the anger having left in favor of a more analytical stance, so I think the day will be fine. I have the usual work plus an order to pick up at the big wine store later. There may be another destination if I feel the mood. Right now I don’t know if I will want to go anywhere else. There is no laundry waiting, my garage is nice and neat, and the routine will not take long at all. I’m going to end up with a ton of free time, and knowing how my head can end up sideways, I’ll try to keep some sort of pace this morning so I don’t lose my way. I also have to let yesterday afternoon fade into the past. That one could stop me in my tracks. Nothing in the world is more powerful. Hmm. An image popped into my head after moving some files off the server. Lyndsy resembles the rollercoaster girl, a face I’ve not considered for some months. Very interesting. Oh, I have the entire documentary in HD on this machine and backed up on the server (and RAID system), plus I have acquired software that can extract images from the video and save them. Curious, all those years I could see her beautiful face inside my head and yearned to watch her in motion. I finally found her after scouring for the tenth time, and now she just sits there on the computers. Maybe the search was the thing, or perhaps knowing I can see her whenever the mood strikes is enough to keep my brain satiated. Honestly, the rollercoaster girl returned this morning due to Lyndsy on the television last night and my subsequent image search this morning. Funny? Maybe. Or the case may be nothing more than my weakness and need to imagine being comfortable in a way I’ve missed for nearly two decades. That is not so funny. Where is the fucking train? Derailed? Or is the locomotive stuck in some abandoned roundhouse and awaiting attention? That’s probably it. Wow... I just decided that for my birthday next month I need to get the fuck out of this place and capture some images of locomotives, railroad beds and cars. Again with the trains? Yeah... Again with the trains. Alicia’s co-star in the fictional office on television right now has one hell of a face. Eyes, nose and mouth... All gorgeous and exotic, not to mention those high cheekbones that blow up professional lenses around the globe. Damn, she’s gorgeous and frightening at the same time, standing five-eight. There is a very specific set of features which always causes me to turn on my heel and face away, and she has it. Pretty, but ‘stay away from her’. I can’t get that fucking smile out of my head this morning. The work will have to suffice until such time as I can extract the difficulty and cease imagining all manner of indescribable situations. I can’t talk about that stuff, unfortunately, or the site would have to go away forever. The fact is I can’t get what transpired to leave me alone. The flowing hair was more than enough to drive my head straight into places I will not spell out. I’ve done it, but I don’t want to anymore. There is no need. Oh, and I recorded the movie with Lyndsy, so picturing the rollercoaster girl with her arms around me is going to continue, bookended by Lyndsy herself and the shit from last night. Maybe if I become all pissy again I’ll be more productive today. Heh. This is all too much sometimes. Do you see how the damaging dreams can steer anything away from my keyboard and take over the writing? They are THAT fucking powerful and return when I least expect. 0919. The sun may make an appearance later this morning and allow me some time to tool around in the garage. Hopefully, anyway. When I head out to the wine store I’d like to visit the hardware emporium, too, yet most of the time when I drive over the hill I end up wrapping up the trip quickly in order to return here where I am most comfortable. Today may be the same. I don’t know yet. I’ll try. Being out of the house for a while may help to alleviate the anger which built up last night. I was ready to pull the trigger on some enormous studio monitors for blasting music at even higher, more clear levels than I already do while in a bad mood. Now? I don’t feel so strongly. This is mostly sadness and frustration, meaning the angry situation is not likely to come about today. 1140. The imaginary situation has not left my head for a second. I finished most of the daily routine and have the next few hours to myself, for whatever that may be worth. But... I keep thinking of questions and answers; possibilities and dreamy comfort. Over and over my brain is going through permutations of the most incredibly wondrous motions and eye contact. Running away has been in my head, as well. Anything to help distract my mind from such strong feelings. I can’t stop seeing that face so close to mine. Right there. The only positive to come out of all those considerations this morning is the idea of actually getting the hell out of here for my birthday. Running away is not in the cards unless I experience some kind of very unlikely windfall, so a trip in January may be my only hope for skipping town. I have a little more housework left. The gangsters have been keeping me company. I don’t believe even the lovely Jamie can shake loose the desperate needs and scenes playing out over and over inside me. All I have to do is make it through the next few hours until evening. I just have to make it. Ooh-fa. There are VERY specific images in my head right now. This is bad. I have to drive over the hill to the wine store in a bit, but I’m not worried about what I may see in that place because the other one is governing my internal slide show. There is quite literally no comparison. 1438. Everything has been finished, including a quick trip to the wine store. I went straight there and back in the interest of saving myself some grief. Still, the one in my head last night remains in control of my thinking. I was not in the store for more than five minutes thanks to an online order having been pulled and ready. In; out; hello; goodbye. I keep seeing that face over and over no matter where I am or what I’m doing. At least the chores are out of the way. There is willpower inside and I have no clue as to the source. There is going to be another ‘recognizer’ very soon. Menacing, overpowering, and unrelenting. Nothing like the last one. Well, another strike to my senses took place and further inflamed the dreams. Now they are larger than life and swirling through my head once again. I cannot believe something like this has developed so late in life. Very unexpected, especially considering the proximity of the dreams to what took place in my head two months ago. I am hoping some time will pass before anything else comes along to floor me all over again. Cocktail hour is nearly at hand. I am still watching the gangsters but may switch to Christmas programming very soon. Believe it or not, I must rise and cross the room in order to change the volume right now. The remote for my home theatre receiver was doused in wine earlier. The spill happened on the heels of the strike and a vision from beyond the netherworld. I was shaken and moved back to the sofa to grab this machine when my arm tipped the cup and caused a spill. I then had to move furniture and do a thorough cleaning of the floor. The remote is in pieces after disassembly and a similar cleaning. Once dry, I can return it to my right and be in full control once again. The vision caused the entire event but I am not upset about it. I’d rather see than not. That is a ridiculous statement, of course, but perhaps not coming from yours truly. Seeing can be worth the difficulties. The gangsters are still on my big television. I might switch later, but for now I need to avoid the possibility of seeing some gorgeous woman in those fucking pants. Watching Lyndsy move across the screen yesterday was plenty, not to mention something else before my desperate, distorted eyes. And speaking of distorted, I can’t even begin to describe the shit flowing through me during the last few days. I can’t say what happened, either. Believe me, I wish I could share it all here and possibly learn from the experience, but the downside remains too dangerous. 0746 in the morning and my head has already descended into the pants of the woman in this movie. That is just fucking peachy, don’t you think? The situation does not take long to develop, ever. Well, if I am in a really bad mood to begin with, the feelings don’t move in such a direction. I changed to the other Christmas movie channel for a little while. Maybe I’ll put on the gangsters and save myself (somewhat). This day is wide open to whatever I feel may be best. The usual stuff will not take long, meaning I’ll have some wide-open hours later. I am not having an easy time of it this morning, though. Both yesterday and the day before held difficulties that will not ease up as of yet. I keep seeing the imagery over and over, all adorable and soft. I made it through well yesterday despite a third and then fourth strike (minor stuff) and rolled into the evening just fine. Sometimes my mind calculates that I don’t have any choice if I am to continue with this lifestyle and I move along as if nothing is out of order. Last night was the same, meaning I chose to be as comfortable as possible and construct the blockade so my mood could not be read by anyone. I stayed on the sofa and tried to let everything fade prior to hitting the pillow. Today will be much the same minus the trip to the wine store. The dreams are in my head pretty fucking deep, though. Deep enough to surface every few minutes (!) and attempt to derail my thinking. I’ll have to remain vigilant and push my way toward the afternoon. Where is the damned train? Wow... This one went all the way around the world and never found a topic. Splendid. I need to get that fucking image out of my brain or I’ll never effectively explore any other issue. Damn. Maybe I’ll throw away a bunch of shit today. I don’t know. I wish that first dream had not taken place. I’m certain it led to the third (the WORST) and my increasing feelings for the subject of all three. This is the toughest crap to work out in years. I have my own difficulty in searching for something that is probably not real, I ran into the woman who I believe is actually ‘her’ and suffered for it, but lately I suppose that shit is not bad enough. There just had to be another level to the pain in the form of more impossibilities all piled up with a fucking cherry on top. I didn’t need that stuff. Now? Not a minute passes without me seeing those hands again. Shit. And depending upon which historic prodigal therapist one may follow, the dream could have been wishful thinking or completely beyond my control, or even as far as a shit ton of suppressed feelings floating along a river of denial. Take your pick. The fact is I am having more and more difficulty recovering from any incident, and much more than just weeks ago. The dreams and strikes are quickening my downfall and I am powerless to change such a circumstance. Long and short of it. I don’t need any sort of train analogy for this shit to be clear. You’d think that the idea of actually suspecting that someone I already knew in life could be ‘her’ would be the most overwhelming situation imaginable. To a certain extent, it is. The problem arose a few days ago and forced my head to shift and focus upon the dreams again. There is so much power there that the other one – the possible, actual ‘her’ – has been on the back burner, much like the train. As soon as the second and third dreams came along I knew that reality was going to be a huge problem. I fucking knew it in my heart. And? The trouble developed just as I had predicted, and even worse in some ways. I wish I could say why. Part of me needs to scream at the top of my lungs and get the shit out there. Another part knows that a single word to anyone would most likely result in my life becoming infinitely more difficult than it is right now. Maybe I've grown too intelligent to recklessly throw a lifestyle into the dumpster as I did in the past. Now I just think about everything without end. A few terms have been popping into my head during the last few months and should be addressed. I really don’t know what to say, though. I’ve tried to equate the feelings in my head to certain situations from the past and reconcile them with what has taken place during this most difficult of years, one in particular... 'Infatuation or being smitten is the state of being carried away by an unreasoned passion, usually towards another person for whom one has developed strong romantic feelings. Psychologist Frank D. Cox says that infatuation can be distinguished from romantic love only when looking back on a particular case of being attracted to a person. Infatuation may also develop into a mature love. Goldstein and Brandon describe infatuation as the first stage of a relationship before developing into a mature intimacy. Whereas love is "a warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion to another person", infatuation is "a feeling of foolish or obsessively strong love for, admiration for, or interest in someone or something", a shallower "honeymoon phase" in a relationship. Dr. Ian Kerner, a sex therapist, states that infatuation usually occurs at the start of relationships, and is "...usually marked by a sense of excitement and euphoria, and it's often accompanied by lust and a feeling of newness and rapid expansion with a person". Phillips describes how the illusions of infatuations inevitably lead to disappointment when learning the truth about a lover. Adolescents often make people an object of extravagant, short-lived passion or temporary love.' I honestly don’t know if that applies, although I can’t deny the resulting emotions mentioned at the end of the third observation below. I just don’t know what to think now. Strictly speaking, some of it does an excellent job of outlining much of what I have said recently. There is no denying the negative power of being in this type of position, yet at the same time, there are still positives to being alone and yearning for something impossible. Aside from demonstrating damaging or reckless behavior (I know all about it because my past is riddled with such actions), all I do much of the time is sit here and attempt to convey everything that is working so hard on my emotional condition. My analysis on the site hurts nothing and no one. I have kept everything locked up inside, and whether or not it has had a detrimental effect upon my well-being, no one else is involved. That’s a big positive. Another is the fact that no matter how far beneath the soil I reside (in my head), I am still going... Still trying to understand everything. That is another upside. And there is Oksana with that long, dark hair and her amazingly stretched features. Jesus. There you go... Another sight which pulls my attention away from what is so important. Marvelous. I do not feel ‘love’ for the subject of the damaging dreams. I do feel it for the other one... The woman I suspect may actually be ‘her’. The emotions when considering her face run very deep. The girl in the dreams is different. Unfortunately, I can only say so much about that person due to possible backlash. I really don’t want or need any guff from people. The pile of shit which has me overly frustrated much of the time is the fact that I am only acquainted with both, nothing more, and the future shows me no possible reciprocation. Such knowledge is an enormous downside to the way I feel right now. The apple cart, remember? I can’t throw everything to the four winds for what is by definition the slimmest of chances. I just can’t fucking do it, love or otherwise. The infatuation has a better shot at fading away over time. At least I understand that much. 'Unrequited love or one-sided love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved. The beloved may not be aware of the admirer's deep and pure affection, or may consciously reject it. The Merriam Webster Online Dictionary defines unrequited as "not reciprocated or returned in kind". Psychiatrist Eric Berne states in his book "Sex in Human Loving" that "Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner." However, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche contends that "indispensable... To the lover is his unrequited love, which he would at no price relinquish for a state of indifference." Unrequited love stands in contrast to redamancy, the act of reciprocal love. The inability of the unrequited lover to express or declare their love often leads to negative feelings such as depression, low self-esteem, anxiety and rapid mood swings between depression and euphoria.' Sound familiar? 0952. Lots of shit in my head right now. Not Oksana and her long, slender legs. Other stuff. The dreams, infatuation... Love? I don’t know. Maybe that word doesn’t matter because I am in no position to explore it and should do nothing more than type it from time to time. In the real world, I have no clue as to how I could change anything right now and expect improvement. All I can do is write and think. That rhymes with ‘drink’. Sounds good, huh? 1026. I have a bit of the routine finished but my brain is too preoccupied right now for continuing. I cannot say why, but trust me... None of it is good. I don’t deal well with impossible conundrums, and my current dilemma holds the record for being the worst. I’ve seen things which force me to question the past and the way I feel about the fairer sex. My feelings are such that I can’t move around the house for five fucking minutes without being interrupted by either pain or sadness. When the routine seems like an uphill battle, something has to change. But what? I keep seeing those situations over and over and then dream of many years ago and where I was, eventually falling down again and again to then find myself back at square one. I may never be in that place again. What a fucking thought. I need a brain replacement. Memories gone, imagery removed, permanent changes to the way I think... All of it. A complete redo. I don’t want to think this way anymore but have zero choice. The more I try to push it away, the more the thoughts supplant anything I attempt. I hate this shit. 1154 and now the routine is halfway finished. The kitchen will not take long, so I’ll wait until after lunch and have everything polished. I also moved some living room furniture so the floor could be cleaned. And there is Saundra and her big eyes, all dark and gorgeous. Jesus, did I ever want to climb inside her bra for years. That woman is pretty fucking tall, too. Lots to gaze at and explore, lines and those places where they lead. Damn, what a fucking beauty. Ugh. I need some fucking help, right fucking now. Lots of swearing, eh? This is only the beginning. I have the office pretty well set up for the new desktop system, yet still no machine. I am hesitant to spend the money after acquiring twin monitors and the chair. Funny, only the computer itself is absent from the table. Maybe after the new year I can pick it up. Once the chair arrives, I’ll set up this machine and connect to one monitor. I can also use the new keyboard at that time. The model I picked out is literally the cat’s meow of desktop input devices. Awesome. Soon I’ll be in there with blasting music and alcohol to inhibit clear thinking like years ago. One thought that comes to mind often is that entry from the summer of seventeen when I thought I was going out of my fucking head due to the issues. Well, here we are five years later – a long respite notwithstanding – and much worse off for the passage of time. I cannot comment further. Leave it to Adriana to smoke a cigarette just prior to a tennis lesson. Heh. The terms above are tattooed all over my brain like so many images of the past. I don’t know what to make of all this, however. Infatuation? Naturally. I believe it happens more often than not, and all over the world. Love? I don’t even know what the word means. It represents a connection that could very well be different for everyone who speaks of it. Their feelings could be radically different from mine. I will never know. The word is analogous to color, honestly. I see a stoplight that is red, but what I see as red may be what others see as blue. Understand? We all call it the same color but it could appear different to anyone looking. There is no way to know the truth... Not even with testing. Well, as far as I understand it, anyway. Uh oh, there is Noah. Yikes. He was an elitist ass, yet none of his personality merits the massive and degrading pile of shit that Tony throws his way. Whatever. I have other fish... Holy Jesus God in a blue sweater is Jamie ever the definition of beauty. Sorry. No I’m not. I love her. I really do. A fictional character, not the actor. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Where to go from here? My typical reaction when the imagery and memories are unwilling to leave my head is anger. I suppose that is natural for a personality that has been painted in tones of control. The title went astray, so I changed it. And then it fell away again, so I changed it. A third change and here we are with an ambiguous title that could mean anything. Fuck it. The anger is building not only due to my inability to follow a line of thinking, but also thanks to the past apathy and those who disregarded or minimized the impact of two specific events which have shaped me over many years into nothing more than an automaton. They are the root cause. Others inflamed and exacerbated such a stance to place me in a cold, damp cavern rife with hatred. This is where everything comes together in a very bad way. I have taken a set. Fuck the time. Everything is finished and I had some lunch with my brain overflowing with thoughts of that third fucking dream. I can’t even go into the kissing from the fourth. Believe me when I say the third took my head and tossed it into a blender. On the heels of that experience? I saw the evidence right before my eyes and not four feet away. Right there. I was in a small space despite being near several other people. It was my own little world. I heard conversation and whatnot, but didn’t really hear anything except my own inner voice reciting lines of desire that took me so far away from everyone else that they may as well have been in some other universe. My head could not process two plus two. Desire and frustration overtook my senses until hitting the pillow a little while later. Thursday morning, the eighth of December. The obsession has been flaring for some weeks now, and I believe the trigger was that girl walking the kids some time ago. On her heels was the other one walking the cute dog. There have been others, but suffice to say that the Christmas movies are not helping. I have to see, though. I HAVE to see them because the chances of admiring the most stirring lines in the universe cannot be passed along by yours truly. I just have to see if the lines are along the lines. Don’t ask. Between Lyndsy the other day and all of the others since then, my head is completely fucked and I can barely follow along with any story playing out. Right now, for example, there is another Brooke on the screen and I keep asking that the camera angle change just enough for me to see some of her form. Here and there, I catch a glimpse, yet nothing is ever enough. The lines drive other thoughts forcefully and continue until I can’t fucking stand it. This is not a good morning. Brooke looks better and better as time passes. I worsen with every second of it. She is just one of far too many. The problem is those other thoughts can’t be fucking stopped. Nothing affects them short of some kind of emergency or other shit. The flare is so bad right now that the lines are overwhelming and painful, yet no matter how bad I feel, there is not one fucking thing I can do about any of it. I just keep dreaming and becoming angrier. I am like a powderkeg that will not explode when lit. The result of everything is nothing more than one tiny person sitting here miserable. There is a whole world out there and none of it matters. I’m in a terrible spot right now. Last night was the same. I kept watching to see how the story played out, all the while dreaming of things better left out of this content. I found a huge pair of eyes and yearned to see them up close, not to mention her beautiful gait that I desperately needed to follow. Her image is down the page. The blonde. No sooner did she express some emotion through her face and eyes when I connected her structure to that of Wendy all the way back during the eighties. I could not believe the match once my head equated one to the other, and keep in mind that I have not thought about Wendy for a very long time. The correlation drove me insane and I began to have feelings for the beautiful face I was seeing last night. That is the level of desperation I’ve achieved. I wanted to stare for a while and then be wrapped up in her arms for the rest of my life. This is so fucking pathetic that I am embarrassed to type the words. So broken. I switched over to HBO a few minutes ago to save myself some fucking yearning. This has been a very bad flare. I probably should have expected it after watching those movies last season. The imagery was already in my brain thanks to what I’ve seen close to home and while out shopping, and adding movies only increases heartache. And the other situation... Those dreams from months ago. I honestly don’t have the first clue as to how I’ve been living each day and breathing through this shit without completely losing my mind and causing distress for those who know me. Maybe I’m just a nice person. The other possibility could be that I am a fucking wizard capable of altering myself into other forms so that people cannot read anything, nor can they have any idea of the pain inside. Another one? Maybe I’ve become so adept at hiding everything out of a sense of shame or fear that I no longer see the level of insanity involved in doing so. I am an expert at misleading people, so perhaps the ability to falsify my appearance in any situation came naturally. There is no second choice, anyway. The flare is creating sentences inside that I can’t repeat here or to another person. I’ll be labeled. I will feel ashamed of myself. And this fucking bullshit is not entirely my fault. Much less, actually. Believe it. Despite the difficulties and dreams that fly through me at high speed while watching the holiday films, I will continue to do so regardless of the pain. I’m going to feel it anyway; may as well sit here and admire the most elusive beauty in existence. There was a guest star last night whose form showed through some very smooth jeans, believe it or not. Jeans. I caught a glimpse of the lines actually diverging and lost my mind. Just another fucking tidbit of shit to emphasize my insanity over beauty and the way I consider such things. Splendid. I just don’t understand anymore. Maybe I never did and should have ceased the effort when that shit essay was published five years ago. Five fucking years. I was very unhappy then. Just think of how such a condition has progressed, and then consider the difficulty in holding back a tidal wave of anger just to ensure no one around me becomes uncomfortable. Isn’t that just wonderful? My mood is going down, down, and down some more. A hammer swing may be the only way to relax later today. Later the same day. I have the routine finished and helped my neighbor perform a repair on his air compressor. I also rolled over to the goddess market for a few items. No problems there aside from what is already swirling in my head. There is a nice, big cocktail to my right, like every day. And here we go with Christmas movie number one for the day. Right out of the fucking gate there is a beauty. Figures. I have yet to become pissy enough to swing the hammer, plus if I did I’d probably freeze out there in the garage. Other parts of the country get much colder than here, yet after decades of being acclimated to the weather, below fifty is not conducive to spending time outside in the breeze. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming in later today. Rain and wind, I guess. I’ll have to remain indoors for the duration. There is plenty to keep me busy in here without flipping my cork. I nearly did that prior to shopping because I felt completely imprisoned by problems and there was no key to be found. I did learn something, though. Sometimes when I drive up the highway there is loud music playing. Lately, I’ve been listening to the news and it keeps my head from following the sad subject matter of some of my favorite songs. I did the same this morning and returned a tad mellow as opposed to my departure. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Watching the lovely Mallory the other night followed by TWO movies featuring Ashley was a trial, not to mention Lyndsy right on the heels of the others. Lyndsy was the toughest, to be honest. So tough, in fact, that there were moments when I dashed outside for a cigarette because I thought my head was going to come apart. I have never felt so fucking frustrated and desperate in my life. That is not an overstatement by any means. This is worsening as the days and visions pass, not to mention those fucking dreams and related strikes that force me to paint pictures I cannot describe here. Some help would be nice, although I already know it will cause nothing more than increased bad moods and concern. I know it by rote. I am still watching these two channels regardless of the inherent and inescapable examples of the obsession, one after the other. I just don’t know what the fuck to do about this condition. I made a connection in my brain when standing before that woman a few weeks ago and can’t do anything about it. She will never know of the feelings or realization. To this very second, I have avoided going into detail about exactly what that connection entails. I do not believe revealing such an enormous event here is going to solve anything, either. My head continues to see the downhill rather than any upside, and what happens as a result is I keep going back to the glow. I do it whenever the current period fails to measure up to anything comfortable. Dreams invade and drag down whatever mood I happen to experience upon awakening and then leave me so desperate that I don’t know what to say or do. The movies show me bits and pieces of the obsession, in turn driving my head into places where there can be no reality. Sometimes I see a woman out there in society and return to my car angry and then beat my head against the steering wheel because I am no one in the grand scheme and my needs are meaningless in the world. Just imagine the realization mentioned above and how much it has added to the pile of shit inside me. Someone needs to shut me the fuck down. There is no other way. As usual, this is going nowhere, nor is it helping me. Belief to the contrary is misinformed. Period. No one knows... What happens if I run out of things to say? Or worse, what if I already did? Like, say, five years ago after publishing that pivotal essay and felt as if I had been residing inside a glass case and permanently separated from people? I have been railroading the same ideas and observations since the outset of the pandemic. What does that mean? Nothing else to say? Have I been finished here for years? IS ANYONE GOING TO ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS? Nope. There is nothing I can do about anything, so the keyboard is the victim. I’ve already replaced it twice. I’m sure there will be a third occasion after one of the keys becomes worn or stops operating properly. The keyboard is the listener. There is nothing else in the world. I feel like shit right now. As long as the depression doesn’t flare as bad as other parts of me, the days will continue to roll past like those dioramas in the tunnel. I believe I’ve seen this movie. The weather is coming. Is everything unfair? No, not at all. The situation simply ‘is’. I bumped my head on the microwave/hood last night making one of my favorite meals and there is still a sensitive spot. Damn. This woman in the movie continues to become more beautiful. Does that matter? Does she matter? Do my feelings matter? Switch. Purchasing music with the phone is WAY too easy. Heh. This is all so fucking bad now. Running out of reasons to say anything, running out of interest in my typical daily activities, and worse, running out of feeling good when I rise from bed in the morning. On many occasions I’ve pointed out that something bad is going to happen. I feel it more than ever. I feel it right now. The obsession has driven me insane for too long. It has also driven my head further in recent years than in the past when I felt nothing more than a mere fascination with numbers. The numbers can never be enough. Some of the most difficult and painful situations have combined in a very negative way and have begun to show me just how black my future is. Black. Bleak. Damned. I turned off the Christmas movie and went back to the gangsters. They never steer me wrong, nor do I have dreams about any details which come along from time to time. I have only dreamed of Jamie and I being together, nothing more. I’m sure I’ll dream of her again but there is nothing I can do about my subconscious. If I blow up my feelings here, the dreams will come. If I say nothing about her, the dreams will still come. More black. This has been a real nice fucking clambake. Do you see that I've gone nowhere in five years? Nowhere. A bit of laundry and a few sounds. One of them grabbed my attention for a few seconds and nearly knocked me off my feet. The dryer required me to regain my composure and try to let the visions fall away. Those damaging dreams have the power to draw me like a gun no matter what I may be doing. I was pulled into her nether regions and a massive fantasy for the tenth time. Sometimes while I am busy, my mind wanders and I become captivated by all things impossible. Believe me, there is no application for the word ‘improbable’. Not in that case. On the minuscule upside, while the laundry was running I ventured to the kitchen and made a pile of pancakes for a few quick breakfasts in the coming days. Once the laundry was rotated, I polished the kitchen for the second time. Dinner preparations shall commence in two hours. Still productive? Yes, despite the gaping hole in my being. The gangsters have been following along; the third season violence being apparent. I’m used to it. That girl enters my head every fucking day no matter what else may be happening or however busy I may be. None of that matters. The sheer weight of those dreams point to the fact that I cannot discuss them with anyone, ever, plus they take over my head often enough to force the realization that no matter how fucked up I may feel, things are actually much worse. Isn’t that just a nice bowl of flowers? Fuck. Friday morning. I should not be watching this movie. Both Ashley Newbrough and Christa Allen on the screen at the same time and forcing me to continually ask questions that cannot be answered. Huge, beautiful eyes, sweeping smiles, and more questions. This is not good first thing in the morning. I don’t need any more shit in my head, but at the same time I am the one making the decision to watch these movies each year. God damn, Christa is a segment of beauty rivaled by very few. At least the early business is finished and I can relax a while before moving further. Too much in my head. This hurts. All I do is think, day in and day out, sit here with the keyboard and then go through the motions. This is no sort of life... Not for anyone. I believe in these late days that I am too far gone to recover. Much too far away, distorted and forcibly altered from who I once was. Ashley and Christa are dressed as elves. Jesus fucking shit hell, anyway. No recovery. Perhaps the time is nigh to cease all efforts in being happy or comfortable. Do you have a better fucking idea? The sun may shine on the house in a little while. Maybe if the garage warms up I can exercise my diminishing mood. I really need to lash out in whatever direction feels satisfying, but at the same time I know lashing will not accomplish anything good. Nothing will change. I’ll come out the other side exactly the same as I am right now, if not a touch worse. The only positive is feeling a tiny measure of freedom and control right in the middle of the shit. Are they real? No one can know, but my money is on ‘no’. I almost constantly need to fucking scream at someone, but who? Does anyone deserve such an attack? Nope. Not even a little. I can’t do anything but exercise my mood through whatever (sort of) reckless behavior, and then everything comes right back and my mood and future fall away once more. There is a girl in this ridiculous commercial that I desperately need to devour. I don’t know why. Anyway, my shit mood notwithstanding, whatever else takes place during business hours today, the sunshine will help. I just wish I could affect change in something... ANYTHING. I would give anything to surf across her lips for one fucking minute. Anything. This is only going to worsen over time. The situation is pretty fucking bad if I would trade away the Passion for something so seemingly simple. Nice. All I do is go through the motions day after day whether I decide to work outside the house or remain here. Going through the motions. Christa’s jeans are a map of the obsession. Ugh. I will refrain from speaking about her mouth. Anyway, this kind of life is not only wrought with internal issues, but can spread to other people very easily. I can’t have that. Even if those around me are pains in my ass and I don’t like them, I still cannot be unfair. The result? Even more feelings shoved into the back closet of my head, completely inaccessible to people. I am doing my best to avoid being cunty toward anyone. Those who know me can read the shit without a word, believe me. They are aware of my stupid tirades that accomplish nothing more than annoying others. I am helpless here. The daily motions may be all I have left. Everything else has become tertiary and blurry. I see pieces of life falling away each day, memories slicing me to ribbons, and the future appearing darker with each passing thought. I have to embrace the motions because I don’t know what else to do. Do me a favor and give me another option. 0842. The quiet is only broken by the television. Last cup of coffee. Christa’s fucking lips are amazing to see. Big fucking surprise, eh? What a basket case. And Ashley’s jaw breaks one of the visage rules of the past. I never really liked a squared jawline, but she is unreal. The same happened with Mallory two weeks ago. Square jaw. Well, that may be changing unless the reason is other features lending to a softening of the line. I don’t know. Basket case. The office is awaiting money. I failed to repair the drone, so it just sits there. I put my truck back into the display case prior to Halloween and it has remained idle. I have a project of a wooden holder for my two most-used power tools and their batteries, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing I was going to do out there feels pressing in the least. Yesterday I did the laundry and dry cleaning, so today is literally wide open to whatever seems best, but what is that? What is best? Can I even do anything besides wallow in unhappiness? I don’t see the rails changing direction. I don’t see positives. Something has to change, yet at the same time, what can change? My attitude? Good luck. I am this way for good reason. What else can change? Let go of the difficult past? I don’t think so, 'rolyaT'. I remember Ashley from the last two holiday seasons, but this year she appears infinitely more beautiful. I don’t know why, however there is an inkling... I am far more out of balance and far more desperate than even one year ago, hence those over whom I gushed last season look even better now. I have been more vocal, too. That is an example of weakness. I speak too much about beauty and the effects upon me, and to gush about such things is fucking weak. I am not proud of myself right now. That lucky fuck just kissed Christa’s big, beautiful lips. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I am in a much worse condition inside compared to a year ago. I felt pretty fucking bad back then, too. Or at least I thought I did. Maybe I should be dead. Jamie is so far off the scale of cute that sometimes I yearn to jump into the television and ask her to hold me. Everything could melt away... Impossible... The word of my life. 1045. Housework is finished unless I decide to go further like yesterday. Nothing dramatic, but maybe some cleaning of the floor under furniture. Right now I have to take a break with my buddy in the glass. All morning I have had imagery and memories plaguing my mind to the point of nearly losing it. The hammer swing may yet take place. I don’t know. Nothing changes. ‘No flies in the whiskey’ did not hold up. There was a fly in the glass, damn it. Well, a drunken fly. The rest of this day is as of yet unknown. Once the drink is gone, I have tons of options, including the hammer swing. Right now I just don’t know, though. My mood changes with the second hand on the clock. There are things I would like to accomplish, although depression has the ability to remove any ambition and force activities to become uninteresting. I am depressed, no shit, so the days when I accomplish very little tend to be the norm. Those times when I break out of the din and push toward some goal around the house stand out. There is Annabella and her amazing form (at just over forty years of age, no less). Unfortunately, her character is a complete whack job and in dire need of more than psychiatric care. Such a fact ruins the appearance. The woman is stunning and her ability as an actor is beyond fantastic. I always remember... If you hate the character, the actor is effective. I don’t hate her character, yet the negatives overshadow her vast beauty. Where was I? Ah... Today’s work. I may not do a fucking thing with the next several hours other than put on some music and fiddle with details. My surge protector arrived this morning. I can mount it on the underside of the desk so it is ready for the new desktop system. That is a good step toward the goal. Once my chair arrives – I believe it will be here on Tuesday – I can move this machine to the office and get everything running. The desktop computer is still up in the air. I am pleased that the laptop serves its purpose well. The scene with James and Annabella at the zoo is wholly disgusting and I typically skip through it just to avoid cringing. It just ended, thank the maker. Ugh. Rain is forecasted for this evening and tomorrow. I’m glad I treated the perimeter of the house yesterday after helping with the air compressor. We have had no invasions for well over a year due to my diligence with the treatment outside. I just have to maintain the process. 1406. I disassembled the surge protector (not recommended unless you REALLY know what you’re doing) and mounted it securely to a section of plywood. Those units generally have holes for sliding the back onto two screw heads, but historically I’ve found that such a method does not hold up over time. Very few surge protectors have mounting ears, so I did it my way. Everything is awaiting my attention in the office. In a little while I need to drive over to the bar to pick up a payment for all the work I did throughout the last few weeks. That money will greatly help the holiday experience. I like to give gifts. Other than the little trip north, I will be here pondering the way of the world. I am not happy with the current period, but as the mighty Jem’Hadar always say, ‘It is the WAY of things’. I can’t disagree. I just wish I had their natural power. Still no train. Fuck it. Everything is just shit now. I tried remaining in the garage longer than the time it took to modify the surge strip, but to no avail. I even washed a blanket and cut up some boxes for recycling in order to extend the time. The garage is just not blowing my skirt up today, music or otherwise. The problem is being overly preoccupied with the issues in my head and the scant nature of the way my life has been for the last year-plus. If I can’t resolve or rationalize my feelings, nothing will make any fucking difference. Not even the little routine and other tidbits around the house. I cannot easily push things away and direct my attention elsewhere after all these years since the first essay. That felt like a turning point of sorts, yet here I am five fucking years later, much further down in the soil, and feeling even further from comfort. I wouldn’t know inner peace if the word was tattooed backwards on my forehead. The mirror would probably lie anyway. What a fucking mess. I keep dreaming and dreaming – likely part of the problem, to be honest – and then sitting here wondering ‘why’ things must be this way. Pain, torment... Twin thieves robbing me of the solace I so badly need each day. The prospect of my future being more of the same is very unpleasant and may force my hand. God damn does that first image of Tara ever look like Wendy, the type of visage unequaled in my experience. Tara is the first woman to resemble one of the first loves of my life, and she is so close that watching the movie the other night drove me up the damned wall. There is something about the relationship between her nose and mouth that screams Wendy. That is the first time I was ever enamored with a facial feature, but keep in mind Wendy carried two disparate features that I have yet to see in combination on another face. I have an image of her from more than thirty years ago which shows off everything. Anyway, I was caught off-guard when Tara produced that adorable, crooked smile and I made the connection. Unreal, both of them. Now, if I could just... Ugh. Sometimes I see where this is going and other times the future is completely black, meaning I can't see anything. Maybe those two options are not mutually exclusive, I don’t know. What I do know is that each day I do what I do around the house, recall good things that cannot return, consider those fucking dreams that will not loose the strangle hold on my mind, and then watch movies with all manner of beauty and sheer fascination regarding dimensional passion and the obsession. The visions lead me to bad places, just as at the pool all those years ago. This is what I do every fucking day. The only difference between the holiday season and the rest of the year is the movies are absent. In this day and age, with technology as it is, I can literally watch anything, anytime. I choose to wait for the last two months of the year so as to avoid wearing out the image of Christmas, however. Believe me, I would love to see some of those actors in all their splendor day in and day out. I will be just the same either way. Looking forward to what used to be my least favorite day of the year – January the second – nothing seems changeable. I will do the same chores and activities, work on whatever seems pleasant or interesting in the garage, watch my football games, and in the end all I will be doing is watching the clock and calendar advance to the fucking grave. Annabella’s midsection is void of anything that should not be there. Jesus, at her age? That is some fucking work and dedication, people. Anyway, I don’t see the beginning of the new year as I did while working full-time. Now it is just a line and increasing numbers, not the least of which is my birthday shortly thereafter. As of yet I’ve been a champion of shoving everything aside and making nice. I cannot guarantee such an ability will continue for much longer. One tidbit: The beginning of the year is the 'bleach box'. Chew on that. The future? The ‘eyes’. More chewing. 1602. I just returned from my meeting near the bar. Now I have cash from the last few weeks of work, plus a plan to work again for at least a day next week. Very good. This may help to facilitate the desktop system. The drive was uneventful but I was scanning like always. The search never ends. Now I have a Christmas movie on with none other than the lovely Autumn and her unique facial features. Damn it all, anyway. I have to see her for all the pain it may cause. I just have to see. Don’t ask about what I’m thinking when I see her leggings. Everything is bad these days. The Christmas movies shall rule the dial for the duration today. I’m going to feel like shit anyway; may as well gaze upon the genetic flukes of the world. Autumn is toward the top of the heap. Believe it or not, those I've mentioned here are far more beautiful than the tall models over whom I once obsessed as they gazelled along the runway. Crazy. I am so fucked up that the more I think about it, the more I sit here in complete disbelief. I’m not kidding. I fail to understand how the present has become such a fucking wreck as opposed to the past. I was not expecting this shit. Oh, there were thoughts inside due to the past, but not this bad. I mean... Jesus fucking Christ. Something has to happen, but what? Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? That’s what I thought. There is weather coming in again, possibly this evening. That means my Saturday will be spent indoors. Maybe I’ll watch these movies all day long and experience pieces of my brain fall away like wet cake as I sit completely helpless. What a wondrous idea. Oh, God... Autumn is something else. Those are the definition of ‘doe eyes’. Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I need to lick her lips. I'll stop right there. You don't want more. Anyway, I can work in the office a while and then do whatever else may seem appealing. I will wallow in the morning like always, rise and get ready to work on the routine with a fat glass of depressant, and then everything will become minimized and I’ll stand in the middle of the living room wondering what to do. That is a given. At some point I will grab this computer and type whatever I am feeling (most likely gushing about some actor on the fucking television and my inability to be where I need) and then try to move around and find something which needs attention. Splendid, eh? This is all so fucking stupid anymore. The titles don’t matter, the words all run together and repeat, and then I get up in the morning and do it all again. What’s the fucking point? I mentioned the weather. That doesn’t really matter, either. I will be exactly the same despite the fucking jetstream. And then there is Autumn again. She has no clue as to my sheer level of worship. In the long run she’s better off. No one needs to be affected by my distorted mind. Saturday morning, 0647. Holy crap it’s windy outside. I have to take care of the morning business shortly. Afterward I plan to sit here and contemplate everything. The housework will be as planned, too, because the weather is going to preclude any garage work unless the doors remain closed. I could go out there and draw the outline for my last mural, though. That needs to be done with the door down and lights on. We shall see how I feel. Also, I received notice that my chair delivery date moved up from Tuesday all the way to Saturday. That is very good. I’ll be able to set everything in motion. I need to clean the floor in there and then mount the power strip. I’ll move this machine into the office for some display testing. I am looking forward to operating my little computer empire once again. The table originally moved more than two years ago, I believe, so that is how long the desktop system has been down. My intention was to keep the editing mobile all the time just in case the shit hit the fan and I had to run. Well, that's not going to happen. I have to stay here. Running away and lavishing in the manner I need requires so much money that it may never take place again. Ugh. 0839. The wind outside is incredible. I keep looking at the big tree in the front yard and have been concerned about it coming down or fracturing for some time, probably ever since the neighbor’s tree across the street came out the other side of a storm leaning to the tune of thirty degrees. Not good. It was removed some days later due to blocking their walkway. I really hope the wind lets up soon because the tree to which I refer is actually a heritage, planted some seventy years ago. I’d hate to see it harmed. The weather is far beyond anyone’s control, though. Wait and see. She reminds me so much of Wendy This morning has been difficult. I am tired of saying that. 1016. Failure. Strain. My chair arrived so I ventured to the garage – only the big door open due to the wind and rain – and assembled the whole thing with a cocktail and my friends in the background. I’ll tell you... Installing televisions in the kitchen and garage has been a Godsend. I can have my necessary comfort no matter where I may be working. And the chair? Fantastic. I’ll bring it in the house when the weather eases a bit. I have half the routine finished, as well. The kitchen sits idle. I will take care of it after a break. I needed to get off my feet for a little while. Wow, the weather is crazy right now. I sure miss the sunshine, although the entire state of California really needs the water. 1342 and I ran out of gas. The surge protector is mounted and I connected this laptop to one of the monitors to test everything. Success. That means once I acquire the desktop machine everything will be ready. Very nice. I also cut up and tossed the chair packaging into the recycle bin for tomorrow. Holy Jesus shit fuck... There she is with the huge, sweet eyes and hair framing the most beautiful face in the world. Damn it all. I may as well go back to the Christmas movies for a different type of strain. Both are so very bad. Anyway, after caring for the garage and office, I didn’t know what else to do, so here I sit for the fifth time today. Sunday morning. What does that mean? I don’t know. This entry went off the rails a couple of weeks ago. I guess I’m losing my way again because I have no idea of what to say. God damn does Candace have some legs. Whatever. Sunday morning is usually nice and quiet because there is no sound other than me until much later. I have uninterrupted time throughout the morning, the tree glowing to my right and a Christmas movie up there on the big television. I am hoping to remain a little bit positive after yesterday went to shit. Am I concerned? Somewhat. There is no way of altering my situation, meaning whatever takes place one day does not necessarily need to destroy me. I’ve been trying to keep my head on as straight as possible lately, nothing more. Bethany will be on the screen for the next two hours and is wearing an a-line dress. Damn. So, today... I will probably sit here for the next two-plus hours and then take care of the quick half of the routine. The kitchen will follow along with a cocktail. The early football game will be on, too. The important game is once again in the afternoon, so I can have everything finished prior to kickoff. There is an Asian hybrid girl in the background with amazing lips. Anyway, by the time the football is kicked, I will probably be half in the bag and a mental wreck. I don’t see possible improvement on the horizon. This is straining my relationship with life. This morning I recalled the fact that I never revealed the resemblance. I saw that woman for a few minutes and was slapped in the face by the connection, realized that the woman is ‘her’ for all intents and purposes, and then gushed about the event for a little while. I never added the name, though. Heh. You’re just going to have to live with my choice of keeping it to myself. I don’t want the information out there; not right now. There is enough strain inside without adding something which may invite comments. I’ll just have to leave it alone for the time being. Damn. Bethany’s dress... Now she is wearing a very short, leather skirt. In Winter? In the snow? Why do they costume actors in such a manner? She has lovely legs, but the scenery would dictate dressing warmer. I don’t even know why I’m trying to take issue with a Christmas movie. Ahh... Now the whole group is outside to look at decorations and Bethany is the only one not dressed warmer. Everyone else is bundled. So ridiculous. Or? Maybe the director is obsessed with lines like I am. Again... Commenting is not going to accomplish anything. The closet doors got me yesterday. They grabbed my psyche and did not let go until I felt like shit. Sometimes the imagery of the past will come along out of the clear, blue sky and slap me upside the face, other times the doors do it. Even rarer is hope for the future, although that one will not only slap me, it will irreparably alter my day’s trajectory to a continuous downward slide right straight into a pit of alcohol and very unpleasant music. The doors grab and let go fairly quickly, whereas the future will hang around until I am nearly ruined. I really don’t like it. I am going to do my best to avoid letting those closet doors punch me in the face today. I have my usual business and that will have to be enough. Holy shit, Bethany just slumped down on a chair, paired her knees, and then slid just enough to reveal a glimpse of her lovely lines. Fuck me in a stocking. She is not helping to keep the imagery at bay. Maybe I should change the channel. And as for the rest, all my strength will be required to avoid a bad situation today. I am already feeling very angry, so I’ll have to keep the effort up all morning. The Christmas movies are going to be short-lived today. All it takes is the right type of glimpse to allow the closet doors to enter my day and choke the life out of any ambition. I am fucking strained enough already. A couple of years ago I wanted to swallow that woman. Sometime later I was content to look at her beautiful eyes. Now? I don’t fucking know, but she is something to see, especially in the skirts with leggings. Gorgeous woman, that one. Let me get away from the gushing. Back to feeling the strain. Holy shit, she is thinner than I recalled earlier. Eh... Shut up. 0749. I am seeing the positive aspects of a Sunday at home. I will have the entertainment of my choice, work at whatever pace feels best, and accomplish everything necessary prior to game time. That thing I was talking about some months ago was on my mind yesterday as a result of feeling the pain of the past. I’ve seen it perhaps twice in my life, but did not think enough to really focus and try to figure it out prior to this year. Well, it may not be something of which I am capable, honestly. I have considered what took place in the past, and the only conclusion is that I did not know why such an occurrence grabbed my attention. Wow, the main character’s sister is a really unpleasant character sometimes. Maybe it’s the facial expressions. I don’t know. Where was I? Ah... Something I have yet to identify. The truth is I can’t figure out how or why such a situation comes along. I really can’t. I’ve thought about it until nearly driving myself nuts, too. Perhaps the best thing to do is just leave it alone right now. This will be difficult because it is a compelling subject and I’ve wondered for some time. Most days I don’t want to know anything about life or the world. All I’ve experienced as a result are periods of loneliness or yearning due to learning about something and then being removed from the possibility by force. The 'thing' to which I referred in this paragraph is very elusive and I don’t even know how to word it in order to find some helpful information. I suppose the suggestion of leaving the subject by the side of the road as often as possible is best. I seem to have zero options, anyway. Fuck it. Maybe I only brought it back to the site because I enjoy typing on this keyboard. I had the music blaring yesterday while cutting up the cardboard. Nothing unpleasant, though. Just some old progressive rock for a little while (the funny part is I only listened to four songs, and due to their penchant for lengthy compositions, those four comprised nearly forty minutes). I wasn’t really feeling the anger as much as I had earlier in the morning. The crushing blow that hit me mid-morning did not want to let go for quite a while and I had to push back. Eventually, I felt a little better, which is to say less shitty and strained. Sometimes Bethany’s facial expressions are super cute, while other times I can catch a glimpse of what she may display while in a bad mood, and it’s pretty fucking scary. ‘Run the other way’ seems to ring in my head when she is close to looking frightening. Heh. Anyway, the music is generally an indication that I am feeling either frustrated or experiencing a lack of control. I built that big system out there so I could lash, and believe me it works well. The control I seem to possess while lashing is, of course, not real. All I am doing is playing music at a high level, nothing more. And it is short-lived, too. Some time after moving out there and blasting, I begin to feel empty because lashing does not change anything. The fucking sad truth is I hold sway over very little in this life, the more important items being far from my grasp. This tiny house and my attitude cannot add up to shit, really. When I become all angry and begin to feel rebellious, nothing happens. I am small, and like those other issues, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The music can keep others away, that’s it. Eventually, I close the doors and move back inside to realize that all I did was waste hours with nothing to show for the time. There is very little I do in life that isn’t fucking stupid. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I must say this brand of Italian roast is not very tasty. At least it was cheap. Is there anything I failed to cover in this long-ass entry? A better question may be, has anything been solved? Nope. All the same crap in different order, or maybe using different terms. I don’t know. What I do know is how I feel and the necessity of avoiding certain thoughts being spelled out. I am completely strained lately. Completely. Fucking. Strained. Between the shit at the job a few weeks ago, those on the street and the others on the television, I am feeling more strained than ever. Pushed. Shoved. Graded aside like so much dirt. Life is enormous and I am realizing that my effectiveness with regard to others is fucking tiny. I matter very little right now, hence all my shit about trying to lash. I don’t have any other avenues through which to express my dissatisfaction. Yes, I realize this is an expression, but why don’t you come knock on my door and explain to me just how much difference this stupid fucking site has made? Do I seem better off than seven years ago when I nearly threw my life into the fucking shitter for the lines? I thought so. I believe that is the reason for my endless, repeating commentary on the related topics of beauty and such. It just never fucking ends. One up, two down. Two up, and dead. Give me two up and I’ll try. There’s an old one for you. Nothing has made a damned bit of difference. Sometimes I see the cycle... Sitting here in the morning and finding enough weakness to describe some woman on the television (meaningless), and then feeling weak and desperate enough to become angry and full of desire, and then moving to the garage and standing there staring at my handiwork while realizing there is no point to my trying to affect change. And then back into the house so my mood can force me back to this machine and the IDE to spew more words (also meaningless). I am seeing the futility of it all, and such a fact is very bad for those who know me personally. I have very little reason to live from day to day. If one of those reasons disappears, I will be one step closer to residing in the soil with the worms. And yes, I keep coming back to that kind of thinking because I have no reason to avoid it. The end may be the only REAL line in my life -- one which is actually possible -- unlike everything else. I have to move away from this right now. I want to lick Bethany’s fucking thighs. My tongue would come out of her nose. Desperate? Yearning? Neither of those matter. I don’t matter. Madder. Fuck you. Shut up. Leave me alone. Fucking stupid bullshit, anyway. This entry reminds me of Tony shouting, ‘I HATE THIS FUCKING SHIT!’, although I am not in a similar situation as that guy. Can you see how everything might lead to anger? Frustration? My inability to affect change in even the tiniest measure is creating a very negative space lately, as if everyone with whom I’ve had contact has done nothing more than placate me for their own benefit. That is not good. I’d say that they should heed my warnings and listen to my words, but what do the words matter? If I speak, will my words make any difference? I think too much time has passed since first addressing this shit five years ago. Too much. Those years have only served to solidify my stance and reinforce the idea that I may honestly be paying for the past. I can’t be certain, of course, because at this point in time I couldn’t think straight if I had ten fucking brains. I’m just so pissed off right now... Nothing is going to sound reasonable. I removed some of the stories from my past. You know, those trips all over the place and the stark descriptions of my activities with a few very special people. Gone. I don’t want to see the titles and I no longer want anyone to read of my fucking gallivanting and stupidity. The train series has been assembled as one long page, too. Unfortunately, that one is even more personal and will not likely return here, ever. The gallivanting is bad enough, honestly. The train? Yikes. I just can’t have eyes on that shit anymore. I probably should not have published it in the first place. All it takes is some enterprising young fuck to do a copy/paste and then my shit is gone forever. I need control over the content. 1122 in the morning. My routine is finished and the garbage work is in process. I decided to take a break and mention that not only is Taylor the goddess in this movie, but also the other woman with the diverging lines on display while wearing JEANS, for Christ’s sake. Unbelievable. That view is so fucking rare that I can’t even begin to describe the obsessive slam which is holding me hostage. Bad enough is Taylor’s face and those Goddamned pants. This day is going to be tough, for sure. And there were the lines just a few seconds ago. Right fucking there. Splendid, but I did make the decision to turn on the movie. My fault. The only other option right now is Molly and her fucking indescribable cuteness. I cannot hear a word she utters while cooking because my attention is glued to where her lines meet. Oh God, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes of... Way too cute for one human being. Jesus. I don’t know what the remainder of this day will hold for me aside from the standard desperation and obsessive gawking combined with a sprinkle of anger, but I have work to do anyway. Part of the garbage is done already. I need to do some organization in the garage before finalizing everything so the cans can be rolled out. I should take care of that stuff prior to the return of the rain, honestly. I’ll have to get off my rear pretty soon. I don’t like Sunday business dragging on. Pause. 1315. Almost game time. I took care of the garbage and showered. My head has been blown wide open by all of the imagery and memories, unfortunately. I will have to expend great effort to relax and watch the fucking football game. My level of anger has increased steadily from waking to this very moment, leading me to the idea of slamming the fucking garage with unpleasant music with the game only on video. I just don’t care right now. The debilitating thought regarding such a stance today is the idea that no matter how angry or frustrated I may become, nothing will fucking change. I will do whatever I feel and then come out the other side exactly the same. Isn’t that just a fucking peachy situation? Remember... Those people responsible for the root causes of my issues are fucking DEAD. 0819 on Monday morning, December the twelfth. Garbage trucks have been up and down the street for the last hour. Very nice. I don’t know what this day has in store, but I will state that being home in the quiet with my little comforts is just what I need right now. The last few days have caused more distress than I care to admit. I haven’t a clue as to what I can do about this, either. I’ve mentioned that there is anger just beneath the surface. It is not fading. Only the weather and my need to take care of the house have kept me from throwing a fit in the garage. Preoccupied with business, to the last. At least I’m not losing track of the work. The sum of all the above shit is not good. And there is much I cannot reveal here or I’ll be the target of some comments and judgments which are even worse than what I have already considered. This situation is placing so much strain on me that the little comforts have become more important than ever. I will need to embrace them today, for sure, lest my day head into the two-cocktail territory. That is a very dangerous situation which can lead to something much worse and is generally on a hair-trigger, for sure. Just a little touch and I tip over like a sleeping cow. Boom. That would be the end of that. So, this morning I will maintain pace here until this entry is complete, afterward moving on to the business of the day. Too much time spent in any one part of the morning will send me down the rabbit hole. I’ll have to move around. The last few days have made me very uncomfortable, pretty damned angry with myself (for a change), and I need to figure out a way to get the fuck out of this situation before everything is destroyed. I do not like looking back and finding myself dissatisfied with my own actions, no matter the source or level. Today will have to be the day of rising above my dissatisfaction and finding a path in some other direction. There is too much that I need to grade aside, and that means this is not the time to be connected to people. Strained. Pushed. But the worst? Going against my own convictions. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. I’ll have to pull back on the reins and try to find comfort for a while. 0944. Gangsters are gracing the television, including that fucking prime vision from the fourth season about whom I have written much. When I saw the vision yesterday, it actually increased after all these years. I always know when it will come along due to my familiarity with the series, yet each occasion still floors me. I can’t help it. You want to talk about dreaming of turning a person into a machine? Holy shit... The plans I’ve made. I have recently come to realize there is no other way. The sun is shining today. Cool air, though. Hopefully the wind doesn’t pick up or I’ll be freezing my baguettes off again. Yikes. I pulled the cans back up the driveway but have yet to do anything else. I may need to visit the market for a few items that will help upcoming dinners. Not the goddess market, the other one. I should probably fill the car with fuel, too. Other than that crap and my usual routine, I don’t have plans for the remainder of my hours alone. Well, some of this shit will be penned, like every day. Ooh-fa, this episode holds one of the worst events of the entire eighty-six hour series. I can’t stand it. One part of the sequence is not entirely necessary for advancing the story, and I believe that is the reason for my excessive disdain for the writing. The scene is a part of the overall arc, however. Just that one bit was completely unnecessary and it makes me angry that they went to such lengths for the sole purpose of manipulating the audience. I don’t have many issues with this program, yet here and there are very uncomfortable moments sprinkled in because they had carte blanche in creating the tale and the manner in which it was displayed. Is it realistic? I suppose. Gratuitous? Definitely. I must take the bad with the good if I am to follow along. Fact of life, and all that shit. I am considering removing the images of Lyndsy and replacing them with something else; not beauty, though. Abstract? Hmm. 'C'mon. Ease up, ease up.' And there went the sun. Crap. I was hoping the house would benefit from sunshine on the roof. Oh, well. The weather is beyond anyone’s control. Today I may be in the right mood to begin the big mural on the inside of my garage door. It is going to take much time and planning even for the outline. There may be enough paint left for the whole thing, too. Maybe I will take care of the routine and then move out there with my drink. I can close both doors and blast some cold music for a while, or at least until the temperature bites too much. I want to see it finished but do not need to be in a hurry. My mood continues to diminish, meaning something which allows me to flex my feelings could be helpful after a shitty morning. Lorraine’s blouse is a beautiful shade of red. Looks like silk, too. Her character is a psychiatrist so she can probably afford nice clothes. Heh. So much strain on my head and heart. It is nearly too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know how I made it this far without blowing up. I have those little bouts of anger which lead me to the garage, but afterward I am no different, nor do I feel any better about this period. My tirades lead nowhere at all, yet I still feel compelled at times to swing the hammer. I don’t know what it all means. I’ve been reading about common dream devices that many people experience and then wish to understand, and that has led me to reflect upon some of the more memorable moments I’ve experienced. I actually learned a few things, and dealing with anger is one of them, although it still has the power to take over my psyche and push me to lash out at the world. Fortunately, when I do exhibit such behavior, no one is affected but me. The whole thing is becoming stupid, really. Ugh... Here is the sequence to which I was referring. It is a pile of shit. Anyway, feeling the way I have since a few days ago means I will probably end up in the garage later with my tools and a scale drawing of the mural. Have pencil, will travel. Here I sit again at 1156. My usual stuff is finished and I am sans direction. Figures. I can’t move the clock backwards. The idea to work on the mural outline may be best. The sun is still shining. Hopefully, that means the garage will warm a bit. I don’t know what else to do. For whatever reason, when I am angry or upset in some way, heading into the garage and blasting music seems empowering somehow. Maybe it is having control over the material and volume. I don’t know, but I can work on the outline and hopefully feel a bit better. I need it right now. Everything else is gray like this font. Anger will take over very soon, I’m sure. Sitting here at noon trying to write about how I am feeling is fucking stupid. This is going to be the last entry I publish for a long time. There is no longer value in placing my thoughts on the Internet. I changed some of the images to other actors. 1629. I finished the outline of the mural and then moved back into the house. I’m going to make pasta sauce, meaning I need to start early so it can simmer for a while. Ashley is on the television looking tall and amazing, all huge eyes and gorgeous smile. The Christmas movies shall rule the roost for the remainder of this evening, good or bad. I would give everything except one eye to see Ashley’s lines. Ugh. Whatever. Basket case. Curious, she exhibits that squared jawline and I don’t care. It actually adds to the allure of her pretty face, whereas on others it seems too much. Mallory is the same and I don’t know why. Not a fucking clue. Now that I think about it, I believe Ashley the first also has a bit of a squared jawline. I will never figure this out. Today has not been good at all. Yes, I did housework and the outline, but the background continues to cut me to ribbons. Everything... From the lines to the issues to the future. Whatever I may be doing at a given moment seems fruitless, including the outline. I’ve wanted to draw that big mural for over a year, and now that it is finished I honestly couldn’t care less. Nothing blows up my skirt when the pressing issues remain. And they are pressing like never before. My brain is in a vise. Not one of those shitty, imported iron castings, either. I am talking about a precision machine vise. Billet steel. The genuine article. The jaws do a first-class job of crushing pretty much anything. Tuesday morning, just like the store. My early business is finished and I fully intend to sit here for the duration. Last night I had to watch two hours of Erin, and on the heels of daydreaming about her this morning, none other than Meghan is going to be on the screen in a little while. Tired of hearing about the Christmas movie actors? Just wait until a specific face is up there. I will go out of my mind. This endeavor may be completely worthless anymore, but at least it’s mine and I can spout whatever I feel (some of what I have spouted has been removed, however). Ownership can only be retreaded so much before even I don’t like it. I have to keep such a thought in mind all the time. For reasons of good form, I will do my best to avoid going on a long tirade about Meghan or anyone else for the remainder of this entry. Sometimes I tire of the words because they continue to resonate and then I fall down and can’t calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Not only does the gushing look bad here, but inside me it chews on my ability to get through the average day. Circumstances have shoved me into a small space within which there is no way to avoid desperate thinking. The weather is going to preclude me from doing any painting in the garage, sunshine or not. At least the outline is there. Better than nothing. I felt pretty good about creating the whole thing but now it doesn’t seem to matter at all. Perhaps I’ll look at it differently when it’s painted. Topic change... Dreams can be wishes or represent repressed urges. The damaging dreams seem to be both. I wish for that every day, nearly more than anything else. I still can’t believe the feelings that have grown so much in the last few months. The most recent strike against me was mere days ago and drove me fucking insane. In-fucking-sane may be a better way to put it. Either spelling is fine because nothing I can say here will get the point across. I become so focused upon that image sometimes that to be near the real thing is fucking painful as hell. My insides feel as if they are burning me alive during those moments and there is nothing I can say or do to make it go away. The passage of time is the only fading point, yet still the visions and wishes are right there at the ready every damned day. Sometimes I want her so bad that I can’t fucking function. Right now I seem to be fine, though. I am thankful for any day that the dreams don’t completely derail me and send my head straight to hell. Believe me, at this point in my life, nothing has more power over me. NOTHING. That is a mouthful considering everything I’ve said here for seven fucking years. Just believe it. Oh, and I can’t talk about it. Not a word. I am once again residing in the center of an impossible conundrum. In the beginning it felt like a dilemma, as in a solvable situation. Now? Impossible, right down to the ground. This just fucking sucks out loud. The very idea is above all things right now. All things. Think about that. As I’ve stated in the past, the entire situation came out of left field and was only brought to my attention through the first dream. It caught me upside the head and altered the manner in which I look at society, not to mention creating a mass of desire completely out of left field; likely the most desire to grasp at me in years. The only minuscule positive is that I have a touch of control over what takes place from here on in. That is very good. The alternative? Probably the worst possible circumstance imaginable. Believe it. Moving on... I need to do something else soon. The routine awaits, as does some laundry. The weather will once again restrict me to closing the doors if I decide to do any work in the garage. I could remain in the house, too. Or maybe I’ll put some gas in the car and roll over the hill to inquire about what a new desktop computer may cost with the specifications I need. The funny thing here is the train. Did you notice the word is not in the title anymore? Well, you never saw it anyway, so that doesn’t matter. The point is I was heading in one direction and then made several sharp turns only to end up with this mess. The dreams ruined my ability to maintain a line of thinking beyond a few minutes. I can't stop seeing her, nor can I cease dreaming about planting my lips and tongue to her... God help me. 1120 and the gangsters are still gracing my big television. I saved the ultimate Christmas movie this morning, meaning I can see Meghan whenever I wish. Another plus is losing the imagery as I cleaned the kitchen and reorganized the freezer (I don’t know what happens in there, but sometimes everything goes awry and the door won’t close properly). I feel that the situation inside my head has been eased a bit. Part of that could be the massive glass of whiskey that’s been following me for the last two hours. Ugh. What else can I do? I’ll be working all day tomorrow so more cash can be secured for the computer, meaning I need to have everything in order today, just in case. Thursday will be blissful after being out of the house during business hours. This is the time when I can think, although being busy with work may shove it all away for a while. I am anticipating seeing some things at the job because I’ve worked there in the past and am familiar with the homeowner. Those things may cause the damaging dreams to flare, unfortunately, and if so, the vision will return and I’ll become very distracted and almost completely worthless. I hope nothing goes bad. When I think of the dreams and what they held, my mind wanders into the reality that I am already too far gone to be a productive member of society. I am out of my mind. I believe tomorrow may present a problem, but I cannot say what it is or why. I was on that job some five years ago or more, meaning I am familiar with the area and the layout. The problem? I’ve already run into a bit of one before, and this time I can either let it devour me or try to get through the day and dash back home. Once I become preoccupied, though, there may be no getting around the problem. I guess I’ll wait and see. I don’t know if I can watch that movie now. Seeing her smile is very difficult and conjures all manner of impossibilities inside. The future, the present, and Christ knows what else will come to mind and shove me into a box again. The woman is one of the most striking examples of unique visage in human fucking history. Believe me when I say that I have searched for years. Maybe it’s best if the media just sits there on the device for the time being. I’ll have lots of trouble seeing her smile again. She reminds me of Juliette, Andrea, and I can’t even count the rest. Very tough to see that girl these days. Her face is a wonderland of love and everything else. Second only to Jamie. 1300 straight up and here I am again. One of the smiling faces has been absolutely plaguing me all morning. That face just kills me sometimes. Such a pleasant, caring smile, too. I switched from the gangsters back to one of the Christmas movie channels. I need some positivity right now, and the fifth season of the gangsters is not the way to find it. The one huge, glaring upside to these movies is they always end on a happy note. In addition, they are all rated ‘G’ for television, meaning the entertainment is wholesome. There is nothing wrong with that, especially with the world so fucked up these days. Danica is in this one, so no worries. She’s more like a sister than anything else. 0600, Wednesday morning. Very cool outside so far today. The weather was the same last night, yet I was being kept warm by thoughts of the woman on the television for two hours. I can’t even say what had been going through my head. I’ve said it, but not again. Jesus. Two hours. There were moments when I thought I would finally lose the rest of my mind. The woman is a list of features all rolled up and stunningly unique. Unreal, honestly. Sometimes she appears artificial. I should not have volunteered to work today. I changed my mind yesterday but still committed to the one-day job. I even made lunch for us. But now? I wish I hadn’t. Not lunch, the work. This day is going to be more difficult due to last night’s dreaming while awake. I’ve already pointed out a potential problem over there, too. The free time today would have been nice. On the other hand, every time I arrive home after working, there is a good feeling, as in secure and comforting. That will happen later today, plus I will have the rest of the week and beyond to reflect upon everything. This is a bad time, let me tell you. Last night was plenty difficult enough for a week all crammed into two hours. Once again I am on the cusp of saying something that I shouldn’t. I have less than an hour before I need to leave. Maybe afterward I will find enough distraction to keep my head up after returning home. Right now, I really can’t say what will happen, nor can I stop seeing her smile from last night. Two hours after making the decision to watch that movie, I realized that the memory of seeing her on the screen for the last few years has made more of an impact than originally thought. She has a vast amount of power over me yet nothing whatsoever to do with my life. Wonderful. Just... Peachy. Her smile is in my brain at this very moment and the thoughts may soon drive me insane. Damn. I would love to remain home and alone in the quiet all day. What a mistake. I need some time to reflect on all this shit. Lots of time. Well, it’s only one day. I can make it through and then come out the other side better off. I never realized Taylor is five-nine. Wow. I went goo-ga over Brooke, too, and she is the same height. Not surprising, I guess. Maybe at some point I turned into a height-whore. 0802, Thursday morning after the early business. I am overjoyed to be home right now, especially after needing my comfort so badly yesterday and then running out the door. I knew in advance that this morning would be very rewarding and that thought kept me going yesterday during work. Plus? I’ll have a little cash in the pocket soon. The work actually pays pretty well. And the issue with which I thought I would have to contend was not present. I spoke to the client for a little bit because she recalled years ago when the same group remodeled her master bath. The situation back then was very sad, however. There had been a loss in her family which resonates right into the present. I am always nice to her. Thankfully, the problem I suspected never materialized. Upon returning home in the afternoon, I was so happy to get into my little routine and then relax for a while before dinner. And now a change. One change, but it is plenty difficult. I should not have been hurt or concerned at the time, yet the feelings took over within seconds. Hours later? I still heard the words bouncing back and forth between my ears. The inside of my head had engaged in a massive manufacturing routine in which my entire being became slowly buried under piles of difficulties stemming from buildings filled with memories and regrets. I felt the acute pain and then moved along through the day with the weight of my own troubles sitting on top of my head. And it continues to this very second. I believe the words were uttered last year or possibly a bit further back, yet I can still hear them and see the expression as I sit on this sofa. That moment continues to cut me and relate to anything I am trying to watch on the television. There seems to be nothing I can do about it. And then something else... Something unexpected, but no matter how much I try to rationalize and consider the nature of such a subjective topic, my head fails. I can’t do anything about it and the subject is going to remain right behind my eyes for the rest of my days. This is unchangeable, and as such, it forces me to realize that my desires in life are going to either fall on deaf ears or disappear entirely. This is a very bad situation and unlike anything with which I’ve had to contend in the past. Plus? I didn’t fucking cause this. Some very insensitive people unleashed their waves of shit and scarred me on the inside. I wish I had some fucking power. I can’t stop thinking about the subject or get it out of my head. Those moments when I am feeling most vulnerable are when the memories attack and I look on with a combination of disdain and fear, leaving me with the icy knowledge that a very big part of my life is over. No matter where I look or what I may be doing at a given time, the dragon will raise its mighty head and burn me alive. From eleven years ago to more recently, and from a tiny sting to a massive explosion, I am seeing the black future of a person who can no longer connect with others. I never should have placed myself in two of those situations. After a very short time, I knew where they were heading. Very early, that thought. Some conversation seemed to help, but I can never truly know of the processes at work inside, especially when topics end up surfacing through sheer weakness. The cuts don’t heal. All they accomplish is to greatly exacerbate the issue and push my mental state into a place of hiding. The moments of comfort end up shadowed by dark clouds. They still take place, yet the overpowering nature of the cuts disallow true comfort, even for short periods. Well, fuck me. That is all gone now, anyway. My new path is to do nothing more than sit here and fucking think about everything over and over. I can’t DO anything. I thought the circumstances of two shit situations from the past were all I had to plow in this life. Right now I am well into a third. More anger, more strain, more of everything negative. No power. Only strain. I’ve been strained to the point of breaking in half. There is nothing I can do except sit here and think about it over and over; miserable, darkened thoughts that leave me unhappy, frightened, and full of hatred. I don’t see improvement on the horizon, nor can I find a way around this shit. The smiling face is going to kill me and I don’t even know her. 0927. The routine will not take long today. 0629 on Friday morning. My Thursday was waylaid by the need to return to the job from the day before. Something went wrong with one of the shower valves and I had to go help. That was right in the center of my comfortable time, too. I went and fixed it and then returned without going anywhere else. At least the car is full of gas now, so maybe I can go out shopping later. I don’t know. This morning will be spent almost entirely in front of the computer, though. I need some time to organize my thoughts and deal with something I had hoped would not come along... Another damaging dream with a smiling face. Yep. Laura Osnes on the television this morning. She is so lovely. The dream? Something entirely different. The smile grabbed me immediately and did not let go until I awakened. And then? My head manufactured a few impossible scenarios which I can still see right now. The smile was too much and led me to believe that everything was going to be ok. No bra strap, no bicycle, nor anything from the other dreams. This one was just two individuals, one of which is driving me insane lately. I definitely need to figure out a few things today. Those dreams have me creating thoughts that I can never discuss with anyone, plus my head conjures images that soon derail whatever I may be attempting to do on a given day. Today may be ideal for fleshing out the situation. I have coffee and quiet, Christmas movies and gangsters. I had been trying to work on this crap yesterday, but as I said, dashing out the door pretty much goofed up my quiet time. I was only gone less than two hours, yet in that time my flow of thinking was disrupted enough for me to lose my way completely. I need to get back into the process later this morning and embrace the solitude for a while. I keep seeing the smile over and over and it’s driving me crazy because nothing can ever come of it. She is not even a machine. Just a person. Wow, sometimes Laura is stunning. Her skin alone is worth the price of admission. God damn would I love to... The prospect of having this entire day to myself is wonderful right now. I need it. Pause for the cause. 0809 and I have the morning business finished and the day to myself. I still don’t know what to do, but the space to think is critical right now so I don’t lose my mind. Sometimes I want her so bad that there is nothing with the power to distract me from the vision of her all over me, smiling and gorgeous. This morning I can see those visions, too, meaning I’ll have to push hard to get myself on track very soon. Going out the door for a while may help. Or maybe nothing will. She is in there pretty fucking deep right now. Since I don’t need any more of that shit this morning, I switched the programming on the television. The title needs to change again... Done. 1636 and I have no idea what became of this day. I took care of the usual stuff and went to the store. Otherwise, not much. I am in a rut and could not avoid such a feeling earlier, hence sitting here now after being encapsulated in sadness rather than looking forward to the evening and some nice dinner. Faces in my dreams, faces on the television, and faces out there in society, some right close and others at a distance. Visage all down the page, too. I don’t know what all this means, but it gripped me earlier and would not let go. I believe that whatever seemed to be wrong for several years is actually much worse than I had thought. Sunday morning with coffee and a Christmas movie. This is the one with Mallory and her incredible pencil skirt. Damn. Yesterday seemed to fly by, maybe due to three football games in a row along with my usual work. I don’t know. I was daydreaming on and off throughout the routine and afterward. Thankfully, when we went to the restaurant nothing became a problem. Everything showed up this morning. I keep thinking about ceasing this work on the site, too. I’ll have to decide whether or not I feel that maintaining a journal is worth my time. There will always be something to say. I also have to figure out this squared-jaw thing. I pretty much summed everything yesterday but felt that an epilogue of sorts might help. According to the analytics, there have been less than ten visitors here between the last two weeks of November and three days ago. This is not conducive to my feeling that the effort is worthwhile. For myself, the words are fine. Yes, I retread all sorts of shit all the time and repeat myself almost verbatim several times per week, but still the questions plague me enough to continue asking. I just don’t feel that anyone else should be a part of whatever fucking processes I am going through, good or bad. My time is not spent here for other people, period. I have the usual stuff to do today and the garbage. I’ll have some hours alone, too. That will be nice. I was horribly preoccupied for much of yesterday and do not wish to repeat it, although to date I have not been able to easily push the dreams out of my head and move in some other direction. Maybe watching Mallory right now is a bad idea, too. She will only push desire-filled imagery into my head and lead back to what happened yesterday. Black pants? Yep... Black fucking pants. Everything is on display, hence my troubling mindset. I need to lick those pants, and that thought is nothing compared to the mass of feelings in my head right now. Long essay. Not much said here, but lots of lines and words. I don’t know why I did not break this up into smaller parts. Eh... Who cares? I probably haven’t said much of anything, anyway. I don’t know what I am doing here these days. Talking about things does not make them go away. That is something I learned a very long time ago and it still holds true to this very second. I have much experience in trying to express myself to another person and listen to coping methods and strategies along with ideas regarding the origin of some negative feelings toward myself as well as other people. I will not head in such a direction any longer. None of that shit is worth it, believe me. I already know I’ll be in a worse condition coming out the other side. This keyboard is the only listener in my future. Well, the new keyboard in the office, too. No people. I cannot begin to count the number of references here regarding my abandoning this endeavor. I really can’t. Oh, I could run a detailed search, but would it make any difference? Nope. Nothing will. This process used to be very sparse; the entries barely numbered in the teens for some years. Now I write every day and feel worse than I did when the site changed direction in fifteen. Could this have had a hand in my downfall? Continually describing such vast beauty? And all those days of typing descriptions of my activities? What did that accomplish? I will rest my case very soon. The problems have mounted for too long. There are three on the television right now. One face and two of something else. A pair, if you will. They remind me of the first and third damaging dreams. A face accompanied one of them. Everything I place here spins circles inside my head and I become desperate to see more. The Christmas movies are probably the biggest catalyst of them all, too. But I keep watching, searching, staring. Why? I don’t know, but one certainty is the idea that continuing to describe what I see and feel on this site will not do anyone any good. None of it. I’m quite sure that my modus operandi is well known by now. No good is coming of this work, nor did it ever. This entire entry has been a waste of time and effort. I am much worse off inside than when it began some weeks ago, and for years I have known that the work is futile. I keep seeing impossible situations, yearning for the past, searching for a savior, dreaming of images I should be avoiding, and then sitting here complaining about all of it. Nothing is going to change. I will not find someone on the side of the road or in a grocery store. No one will darken my doorstep. I cannot stop dreams. The damage has already been done. The time has come for me to tighten my grip on everything which can invite more issues, and this process is at the top of the list. What a fucking galactic waste of time. I will never reveal the correlation that took place weeks ago, nor will I speak either name. The worst of it? Knowing 'her'. I am wracked by her visage." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
December 18th, 2022 8:09am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Wracked Visage; Lined Hell 'The Absent Train' read ( words) "Don a fucking helmet again and get ready to say goodbye. 0609 on Wednesday morning. Yesterday certainly flew by. I never mentioned the full extent of the event from the afternoon stop. The focus had to be shifted quickly or I would have lost my way and not completed anything at home. I can’t let that happen. The fact that I am so weak should not affect the routine, although what took place when I looked at her beautiful eyes was so unexpected that I was halted for a time. It is THAT important. Right down the street from me resides a woman above all things in the world. I stood not two feet in front of her and saw a smile. Seconds later, two of life’s tumblers fell into alignment and hit my brain like a wrecking ball. I realized why she became so important to me, and that reason is not her resemblance to the darkest of beauty, otherwise known as the Raven. Maintaining my composure as the four of us spoke about the job was one of the most difficult tasks in memory. Going to work today now appears simplistic and meaningless. I would like to earn additional cash for the holidays, nothing more. 1636. Lines on the job site. Lines. LINES, for Christ’s sake. The designer came to the house to go over some details with the general. For an hour I saw her move about the rooms in her yoga pants and watched long, flowing, beautiful hair swirl around in the breeze. Damn it. I had to walk past her several times for material and tools, all the while averting my eyes in order to remain professional while working. Well, no craning of the neck or sneaking peeks were necessary because she was all over the house; at one point facing directly away and standing as if to inflame the obsession. After yesterday afternoon, I honestly did not need anything else clogging up my thought processes. She was there nonetheless; looking like a soft, warm dream in painted pants. Such attire may not be a good idea on a construction site. Right now I need to let go of her lines and move the content along as best I can. Such a strain on my senses. I believe I know who ‘she’ is. ‘Her’. There is a horrible, crippling fact attached to knowing, as well. I don’t even want to get into that shit. The idea makes my heartache amplify to the nth degree. Many occasions have found me stating that I have never been in worse shape. I have to say it again right now. Believe me, this fucking situation dates back to before ‘The Failing Fantasy and Alexis’. That entry was a turning point, for sure, but right now I cannot imagine feeling more empty and disconcerted at any time in my life. Weak. Desperate. Full of pain. I see no positives here. Nothing good. I suspect that the connection to ‘her’ and my fall yesterday have finally proven that the intentions of eleven are the only way. Intentions are not actions, but actions will suffice. The eyes have it. I saw them but did not complete the equation until a while later. This is now 0605 on Thursday, a solid day and a half since standing before her most beautiful of faces, and I still feel that everything I tried to describe was not enough. I know. I know who ‘she’ is. This is going to change a few aspects of my life. The terrible fact of ‘her’ existence in reality continues to plague me, too. I can’t get her face out of my head. Earlier this morning was a dream, as if there was not enough going on inside my brain already. A girl with me at an old company from the nineties; the one I dealt with almost daily for nearly three years. I spoke with her during some address from management to which no one seemed to be listening, and began to reminisce about the president of the company during that period. Ok, she may not be ‘her’, but I can’t know who she is without asking about ‘her’, and that may be impossible. Make sense? Nope. The problem is ‘her’ may be inside her. She might actually be ‘her’, and if this is true, the search is over, as is my life. There you go. And I still have not gone into detail regarding this unreal discovery the other day. You’ll just have to wait; possibly forever. I don’t care. My head is more fucked up than ever. She is not the only problem, either. Shit is beginning to pile up high enough to produce a line of thinking that no one is going to like. I have lost too much for each day to be comfortable, and I need too much to believe that there can be understanding in the future. Those two alone should be enough to drive me into the ground. For some reason I am still sitting here doing the same thing. If she is ‘her’, I’m going to lose my shit. If this year’s development (I’ve mentioned it enough already) continues to elude my vision, I’m going to lose my shit. If the next year begins as this one did, I’m going to lose my shit. Between those three fucking craphole issues, it’s a pretty good bet that the shit-losing is guaranteed. Only a matter of time, believe me. 1646, same day. I worked again today and will return to the same job tomorrow. The cash is tumbling in and will enable all manner of nutcase purchases for the holidays. Today was both good and bad, the good unable to outweigh two visions. Yep, and I am not speaking of the designer (who was there again in yoga pants of a different color). I am referring to lunch time when I sat in the driveway and watched two girls – and I mean GIRLS – who pulled up to clean the house across the street. Let’s see... Yoga pants, flowing black hair, lines on display, and my head coming apart, especially considering the very difficult morning prior to leaving the house. I stared to my heart’s content and then returned to the house for the afternoon work. I had to repeatedly measure lengths of pipe and consider the ramifications of different copper fittings and isolation straps due to dreaming of seeing both of those girls in a number of poses solely for my visual and deviant benefit. Let us recap. I spoke of being hit in the face by a woman who now appears to be ‘her’. That was bad. I have known her for many years. Standing next to her two days ago and speaking in person was a fucking dream come true. I never forgot her, either. Ever since seeing that woman sitting at the bar some years ago when she asked if I remembered her face, I’ve been pretty well smitten. That day was key, as well, because I stated that I could not possibly forget her due to the resemblance to someone I loved. She was taken aback, believe me. Her facial expression and eyes told the whole truth. Now pile atop the incident with the second fucking slap by the designer at the job yesterday. My eyes came right the fuck out of my already-strained head. I took in more information during the course of minutes than anyone may believe. The afternoon left me floored and hurt, deeply depressed and at the outset of some pretty bad fucking anger. Now throw in those two visions across the street today, sprinkle in the problem which arose early this year and the image is complete. Wrecked. Less and less of me wishes to continue living. Friday morning, early. I’ll be leaving in less than an hour. This marks the first time in more than two and a half years that I’ve worked five days in the same week. Unbelievable. This week is not the norm, either. It’s just that one big job with which I wanted to help, plus the cash in my pocket. The resemblance is incredible. Never before has something like this taken place. Never. The Raven was bad enough when it comes to those dark features, for sure. She carried more than I can possibly describe here. I stared at that woman so much that I thought She would take issue with my attention. The resemblance I saw the other day will not leave my head lately. I keep making references back to different moments that went by in the last few years, yet the more I think about those key images, the more I see them reflected in the woman from earlier this week. And? This is not going to make sense to anyone but me because there are no fucking names or other identifiers to assist. I can’t get her face out of my head. Saturday morning, finally. The week moved along very quickly, yet the work has me very tired now. I’ll have to think about how much I want to work heading into next month. The money is nice, though. Time will tell, I suppose. Her face has been behind my eyes since Tuesday. The correlation is incredible and amazing and I still hesitate to state the reality of the situation. I mentioned the horrible aspect of this. After thinking about ‘her’ all week since the face, I cannot deny that aspect is killing me inside. There are two words involved of which I am not at all fond. Part of me is dying to tell her what her face and eyes mean to me, while the other part wishes to avoid seeing her again, ever. Her. Possibly ‘her’. This is not a joke. I am dying to stare again. The relationship between her eye sockets, nose, and mouth are a near-ideal match. Unbelievable. I have to stare and watch her eyes change as she speaks. I want to photograph her face and keep it for all time. There is really nothing I can do about this, either. I am simply gushing my feelings for the way she resembles another and the fact that I stood there and looked at her without the realization slapping me in the face right away. It took a little while before I equated that little nose to the real thing, after which I knew what had happened. The time is now 0820 and she is commanding my attention from afar. This is crazy. Another fucked up fact is the whole thing probably has not sunk in completely, believe it or not. I’ll most likely worsen soon. Ok... Today. I have to drive over the hill this morning for a few items and then return to the routine. The past week has forced me to care for things in the afternoon as opposed to my typical morning home schedule. I don’t like it much, but again... Lots of cash coming. Between today and tomorrow I can catch up with everything in anticipation of the holiday next week. Heading over to those stores when they open is a good idea after an entire week full of fucking yoga pants. I don’t want to see anything else since the slam of the designer and the girls across the street not long after. That was just too fucking much for my weakened and desperate stance in life. Don’t even get me started on the other one. I already have deep feelings for her. ‘Her’? I am pretty damned certain. Ugh. 1834. This has been a long but productive day. I did take a trip to the pet and wine stores, both destinations being uneventful, thankfully. The previous paragraph outlined the trouble already inside my head. Upon returning home, I took care of the latent routine and a few other things to ease my mind after being away from the house most of the week. I really don’t like things getting too far askew before I have the opportunity to straighten everything to my satisfaction. We spent the late afternoon at a birthday, family only. That was relaxing. Now the evening is in full swing and I have zero responsibilities until my Sunday business that, after today, appears very comfortable. For a little while I was busy enough to forget everything. The trouble hath returned, however. Cocktail time. The end of the rainbow is causing pain and I don’t even know if it is real. Ninety percent, though. She. ‘Her’. The eyes, nose, mouth and remaining facial structure are driving me up the wall and I STILL haven’t stated the reason. I can’t right now. I just can’t. I need to see her but there is nothing I can do right now. Not a fucking thing. She is over there and I am over here, and in the grand scheme of the world, the connection is too thin to exploit or even consider right now. I’ve gone through holy hell in the past for positioning myself near to something special – and on occasion actually succeeded – only to be dropped from on high and left in an even worse frame of mind. I need more of that like I need a tax audit. The fact that there even exists a connection is amazing when one considers the idea of her being such a fucking match to the dream of a lifetime. I am not kidding, either. The thread may be thin, but it is there nonetheless. Sunday morning. Coffee, second show, cats fed, dead head. A head. Ahead? All red. All read. Dread. 0719. I added an image of Maja here because she is so pretty and her lips could be the second coming of Christ. The woman is gorgeous, honestly. I thought her face might make this entry look a bit better (until the content is read by someone, that is). I have included her on the site before. Enjoy. She is the only good thing about this shit. Today is Sunday and I have my business awaiting the clock’s advancement. Some work in the garage, laundry, and the typical garbage stuff will be on tap once the sun is a bit warmer. This day is already appearing better than the last, and not just because we went elsewhere for dinner. It’s everything. Difficult to describe. Anyway, the positive nature of the day’s outlook cannot offset the imagery in my brain or the correlation I noticed days ago. The truth is I am trying to calculate a way to speak with her again. All I need is a moment. Of course, this may never come to pass. In fact, as I sit here right now, I see a less than one percent chance that anything I want or need regarding that woman will ever be possible. The whole fucking shitaree is very sad, honestly. I feel the strongest pull from her face. I need to stare and express to her just what the staring actually means. I need to tell her that she is above all other things in the universe and the very definition of destiny. And no, nothing like what you are likely thinking. Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Leave all that physical shit on the side of the highway and set the throttle on WFO. Leave it alone. My needs regarding the most beautiful example of a woman are all centered upon a few features and nothing more. The equation I put together days ago while at home has birthed so many damned feelings that I can’t even begin to understand, but at the same time I know what I have to do in order to reconcile myself with the connection. I stood there and saw destiny. Unfortunately, I am not to be involved in such a thing. My role is to fulfill one need and tell her what it means, and then likely watch myself fade into nonexistence. Or, the end may also be nothing more than the derealization becoming so deep that I no longer interact with people. I don’t care, but I will miss ‘her’. Actually, I miss ‘her’ right now and I barely know her. I believe she is ‘her’, but she is not going to save me. She cannot. The situation is not so easily resolved. There are problems I have not revealed here and probably never will, and to consider the fact that she is a person with feelings and not in need of anyone gushing a ton of superlatives with tears in their eyes, the calculations through which I am trying to run seem futile. I still have to do it, though. Compulsion has been redefined. There is no end to it. 1000 straight up. The subject of that fucking damaging dream floated back into my head this morning and drove me right up the wall. I could NOT get her out of my head, leading to the decision to push toward work, lest I lose my fucking mind. I can’t have that right now. She is trying to weave those lovely eyes (and breasts) through my brain like a tapestry of desire. God damn do I ever want to devour her. This is fucked, yet again. The day must move along, though. I can’t have her derailing my precious Sunday schedule, not to mention putting the kibosh to my desire to watch a hell of a game in about three hours. And? For reasons of good form, I have a nice, fat orange/white Russian sitting to my right as I type these words. That girl is going to drive me insane I tell you. In-fucking-sane. Obviously, I can’t place my thoughts about her on the site. I’d be labeled worse than I already have. Very bad, that shit. Believe me... Everything has gone through my brain like a freight train loaded with physical acts. This is so very bad. Maybe the booze will calm my need to... Those fucking breasts drive me nuts. Ugh. The bra strap and her slender fingers... Holy Jesus shit God damn fucking hell in a soft thong do I want her. This fucking condition is DEBILITATING. I'm going to flip the fuck out in a little while. Little? No... That warm pair of breasts is anything but little. Shoot me. I don't fucking care anymore. I've been fucking driven to this state... Driven by those who would strain my life and enjoy the process. They have already succeeded. Someone stop this shit, please. Nope. JESUS FUCKING HAROLD CHRIST ON A RUBBER CRUTCH DO I WANT THAT GIRL. This may be a good day to swing the fucking hammer. I have lots to do in the garage between laundry and general straightening, although the afternoon game is going to get in the way of my mood. One option is to have the game on the television but without sound. Holy shit... This woman in the commercial... God help me. Anyway, ah, fuck. Another one. Jesus! I am a basket case. I think my best plan is to care for as much in the house as possible for the next couple of hours and then head to the garage to blast the neighborhood with unpleasant, unfeeling music while I watch the game and work on organization and laundry. I’m in the perfect mood for a storm. The sun has been shining all morning and the outdoor spaces are warming quickly. Everything could come together by kickoff, effectively blazing a trail into the nether regions of my shitty attitude. Nice. All I have to do is get the breasts out of my brain. Tall order. I desperately need to... 1040. I am working tomorrow and Tuesday. The money is very nice and my physical ability to keep moving all day long has benefited from the laborious plumbing. This is a good thing, especially considering I only need work when I want. I could not have imagined this situation two years ago. Sometimes I think days like this should be centering my head and helping me to focus upon the positives. I thought about them last night when my head hit the pillow. FUCK. I need parts of her body in my fucking MOUTH right now. Stop it, dipshit. Just fucking stop. Focus upon the positives for crying out loud. She. ‘She’ is ‘her’. Oh, God. I spoke to her. I spoke to ‘her’. I saw the resemblance and lost my mind. Those eyes... For the love of Christ... I want her to KNOW. I have to tell her. ‘Her’. Oh, boy. A girl on the Indianapolis sideline. Pants, hair, eyes. Maybe I need to be institutionalized. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Does she know how beautiful she is? The cheerleaders don’t cut the fucking mustard anymore. Heh. Well, some do, but they are rarely centered in the frame. Eh... Fuck that. Go and research the pro cheerleaders and read about how underpaid and difficult their roles have become. I look at them and realize that the sport is STILL very sexist after all this time. Am I sexist? In a manner of speaking, yes. I am of one sex, meaning the opposite can be attractive. Do I objectify? Sometimes, but please understand that the last four-plus decades have been aslant due to the actions of others, and the trailing decade has been wrought with insensitivity and apathy. I am sitting on this fucking sofa at this very fucking moment in pain because of said apathy. For the billionth fucking time, I am a product of time and circumstance. AT LEAST I KNOW IT, people. I am a good person. Sally Kellerman said something which puts the whole subject into perspective for both males and females. She said, ‘Being viewed as a sex object is not a negative, provided it is not the only way a person is viewed’. This entire paragraph is really fucking screwed, but not all my fault. That quote may not have been Sally. I don't remember. 1544. Nearly all of my business is complete and I effectively calmed the demons for the time being. The early game went to shit, the second game followed suit, but the Lions won in the east, so all is not lost. The most important game is tomorrow night. I am hoping to avoid another tirade about ‘her’. 0633 on Monday morning. I was going to work today and tomorrow but the night was very bad. I have cold symptoms, meaning I can’t be near other people. I am home for the duration. Second show and coffee. I dreamed this morning, however the subject escapes me. It may have been related to the science fiction on my television last night. ‘She’ will not be a part of anything I need. She cannot, and for reasons I will not reveal here. Just understand that there are forces at work over which I have zero control. The entire realization must move in another direction now. I have to think. Sitting across the table from her – a la the Phase Lock girl on that fateful morning – is a dream larger than the Passion, believe it or not. I want to have a conversation and tell her the story of how this all came about. Should that actually take place in reality, the next step would be a portrait. Yes, a photograph. It would sit side-by-side with the other one for comparison and my subsequent daydreaming for the rest of my life. I want to talk with her so bad that it’s eating me from the inside out. There has to be a way to do this without causing any problems. There is also plenty of time. I have zero expectations that I can meet with her and speak, though. The whole shitaree feels too far-fetched, most likely due to my penchant for dreaming of impossibilities. Honestly, I should be overjoyed to have merely spoken for a few minutes in person. Well, I am, but the day is fading into history and I fucking need more of her near me. Nothing like what I have tried to describe here, however. Just words. The repair just ain’t gonna fucking happen. She will never know of the past, only the resemblance. I don’t believe unloading all my shit to another person is fair at all. Even though my greatest need is the ability to severely ‘lean’ on a beautiful woman, in reality I just could not get myself to do such a thing without permission, and the odds of that happening are beyond stratospheric. I can’t risk pushing because I already know of the consequences. I’ve pushed plenty in the past. One certainty from my years of observing behavior is the women I have known did not find a lack of confidence in a male attractive. Not at all. And here I sit as a fucking basket case and about as far off balance as a person can be. As I have recently mused, I cannot be good for anyone. Not even close. If I am able to speak with her sometime in the future, care must be taken to avoid going too far. That will be tough, to say the least. The slam to my head due to the resemblance may force me to become desperate (not a long fucking trip at all) and go just far enough beyond the norm that she could react badly. I can’t have that. I did ok with the Phase Lock girl so many years ago, although that discussion centered upon beauty. This is actually far deeper. Within five seconds of her answering the door, my heart exploded all over the place and I had to rein in the feelings. Not easy. Don’t even get me started on what I felt when she addressed me from two feet away. Maybe nothing will ever happen and I’ll be left sitting here wondering, just like always. What a splendid thought. I never thought I’d see something like that right before my eyes. I didn’t remember, either. I just didn’t remember. Details faded and then slammed me back in microseconds when I saw her eyes. And then the nose. Holy shit. I have to get away from this subject. Wow, do I ever feel like crap. Chills are never fun. I believe the drink choices for today will be hot tea and water. Coffee does not taste as good as it usually does. I am glad the option to remain home is always available, though. I am technically just helping, so I can set the schedule (more or less. There are still commitments) Maybe the work days down the peninsula last week during cold mornings caught up with me. I don’t know. There is an upside, however. This type of condition pushes away all of the fucking desire. Gone. The previous paragraph was written more than two days ago. This is now Wednesday, meaning I basically lost two days. They are gone entirely with nothing to show. I’ve been bundled up and on a virus diet. Yes, that one. I don’t know how, but I caught it at some point and was down for a time. Honestly, the symptoms were not too bad compared to what I’ve heard of others. Anyway, I feel quite a bit better this morning. Maybe the day will be normal. The biggest issue with that condition seems to be the fever. Mine was knocked down in a matter of hours. Not bad. This is the first time I did not write over the course of so much time. 0717. Between the work last week and being so under the weather so far this week, my house and garage time has felt alien. Everything has been closed up. I really need to get back to normal so I can take care of business around here. I don’t like the feeling of being behind schedule or letting things get out of hand. I feel as if everything is messed up right now. Let’s just call it a lack of control. I’ll get it back soon. Of all the aspects I love about being home, maintaining control over my atmosphere is near to the top of the list. I need what I enjoyed prior to going to work last week. Moreover, the fact that the work began to head toward full-time again pushed me to take the rest of the year for myself. I was in bed for ten hours but did not sleep very much. I couldn’t quiet my head for some reason. ‘She’ was swirling inside, along with being behind with my usual chores around the house. Work also floated through my head. I don’t know why so many different topics continued to flip along during the night, but I believe they were most of the reason for my lack of sleep. My head is fairly clear this morning, though. It is a situation I’ve not enjoyed since late Sunday. Monday and Tuesday were so messed up that I couldn’t calculate anything. Everything troubling my mind for the last several weeks has been dormant since Monday. When I can’t function, nothing else takes priority. I have to care for myself and let it all go. I did just that and now feel much better, yet none of the bad stuff has returned. The first two days of this week were exacerbated by my reckless behavior on Sunday, too. I’ll take the blame for that one, although the arrival of virus symptoms was not up to me. Maybe if I had been in better shape prior to becoming sick, the depth could have been minimized. This situation is going to change my behavior, trust me. I’ve been slapped in the face with my own complacency. 0629 on Thanksgiving. Remember ‘Holiday’? The topic has been permeating my head since last night. ‘Holiday’ even usurped ‘her’ for a while. Well, that and the virus. This is going to be a tough day. I am feeling better physically with each passing hour, meaning whatever else may be taking place in my head can be offset with the fact that my health is improving, plus the crisp air may benefit my condition as I work around the house. I have to care for some things that have gone by the wayside because they are beginning to irritate me. I have not completed my usual daily routine since Sunday last. Not good. My little world must be in full order by close of business today. I don’t know how to return to the other subject. I’ve been out of sorts and fairly sideways since Sunday night, meaning everything which had been prioritized inside my head has fallen away for a time and I don’t know how to get the feelings back. Believe me, I’d rather forget some of them and never address such topics again, but I must be myself above all things. She will return here soon enough, as will the remaining shit I’ve been forced to plow. My twin monitors arrived yesterday, representing the first fruit of my labor for the last couple of weeks. The only component I need to acquire for the desktop system is the computer itself. Maybe sometime soon I can travel over the hill and consult. The machine must have one specific feature, meaning I need to address some people in order to determine the best choice. Everything else is in place right now. I am looking forward to setting up in the old office once again, and after nearly three years. I guess the new office is not as such any longer. It is the empire, for whatever that may be worth. 0754. No coffee this morning. I have not had coffee since Monday morning and it did not last long. Tea has been the choice, along with gallons of water. I have the second show on the big television screen, although I may switch to the holiday movies very soon to help me consider tree preparations. I’m certain there will be trouble within said movies and I don’t care. Football does not kick off for nearly two hours. I would like to watch at least one entire game today. Wow. What a Thanksgiving. I am feeling tons better than the peak on Monday, yet still there is a cloud over this day due to the past, the glow, and so many changes in life throughout the decades. The time is 1334, I have completed some chores and have a load of laundry in the washer. Very exciting. What did Edward say with so much sarcasm and a disgusted facial expression? ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ I cannot disagree. I can’t even swing the fucking hammer today. Moreover, my neighbor is having a bunch of people over for a turkey day shindig, complete with the grill and smoker on the driveway. I can’t even go over there and wish them a happy holiday. This is rather shitty. The major plus is that I am home for the rest of the year, if not beyond. I am fairly certain that my visit to the bar last Friday after work was the catalyst for this messed up week. Whatever. I am better thanks to the vaccinations. Perhaps I should remain mindful of how much worse this time could be. I should also count my lucky stars that the emotional turmoil which has recently increased ten-fold (if not more) all but disappeared when my health was called into question. I guess my brain can only process one at a time. Everything will return and hurt me soon enough. The weather is very warm, meaning I could be doing all manner of things around the house, yet once I am up and about for a few minutes, the muscle aches and fatigue set in pretty quickly. I have to be careful. Friday morning. Bethany is my first choice for a Christmas movie this year, and what a sight. All dark, yoga pants, unique lips... I’ve gone through some feelings for her appearance before. No coffee has been brewed since Monday and I don’t miss it all that much. Mint tea has always calmed me when necessary, and the last few days have been no different. Holy shit... I was seeing Torrey, not Bethany. I kept switching back and forth between two channels to figure out which movie to watch and thought Bethany was in both of them. As it turns out, the two actors resemble each other quite a bit and had me confused for a time. Was I this mixed up last year while gushing? Damn, do they ever look alike sometimes. I guess I never ran across both of them at the same time on different channels. Looks like it’s going to be a long holiday season. Anyway, I did what I could yesterday and rested often. The kitchen worked out well, plus I was able to make some soup. I also installed the ESC in the drone and now simply need to solder the leads and then test. Torrey’s rear end is larger than last year. I can understand that. I put on all kinds of weight during the past eighteen months. Heh. She is on the television, whereas I am nobody. And the face is key, anyway. Lines are one thing, eyes are another. Second mug of tea, nice and hot. The weather today may mirror yesterday, meaning if I am feeling up to it I can continue with the catch-up work and break out some Christmas decorations and tree stuff. The solder work on the drone is a quick deal, too. I have a head start on everything today thanks to feeling a bit more energetic yesterday. Onward and upward, and still no difficulty related to ‘her’ or the obsession. Yes, the actors on these channels starring in holiday movies are going to generate all manner of thoughts, yet deep inside I am more concerned with my health and recovery right now. Everything will return in force, guaranteed. I can wait. 0725 on Saturday morning. I’ve been feeling a little better each day. Christmas movies are going to be dominating the television for a little whale until the game starts, and then I’ll work on my usual stuff. Yesterday we put up the tree and lights, meaning today will be the fun part with all of the decorations. There was an inkling just now as I heated water for tea... A feeling I’ve not had in some days. Looks like I was correct yesterday. Everything is returning and this morning is the beginning. Storm on the horizon. Shit on the bowsprit. Debris on the rails. This may be where everything must change. Throw the dice... Throw all of them. We rollin’... Pants on the television. Lying on her side, feet and knees together, with the rear looking picturesque and symmetrical just pointing itself out to the world. This is very unusual for a Hallmark movie. They generally shy away from making any actor look overly shapely, although sometimes there is nothing that can be done. My mood is going to fall away today. Let us see what we can do with the fucking wake. The black pants are now wrapping her shape. And next to her is another woman with dark everything. There are the pants again. New scene. Ah... The dark one again, all full, pouting lips and big eyes. And the pants. Dark blue sweater. Plowing... A black skirt. This is November. I have been here before. I have seen it before. That was another time, yet somehow it is now. I was there, now I am here, yet I have not moved. The black skirt looks delicious. That other November was not good in ten ways and good in just one. And the good turned to very bad. And the bad turned worse. I went over there for a visit and returned three weeks later, two inches shorter of brain and longer of woe. The thought was born. An idea weaved its way into my head due to being slighted, passed over, ignored and disregarded for a time, and years later the idea became doctrine. The black skirt is a representation of exactly half of the topic. Half of the idea, as well. The other half is veiled. It is covered with the dusty scrim of life. Sometimes it is wrapped in black yoga pants. I need to take care of the usual business today and then work in the office a little bit. That angry feeling is right behind everything I’m trying to plan for the day, and it feels as if the two lines which have been converging all year are now within view. Not the lines I need, only those which have been grading the periphery of my life toward a center point. All I can do is watch. Much of what happens is my decision, too. The negatives have piled atop each other for long enough – some being due to my actions – yet still the remaining circumstances came about (and continue to develop) as haunted by the past and aspects of living which were far beyond my control. Sunday, November 27th. ‘The daggers went in deep; vile and sickening.’ The norm. It is here. I am so broken that the pieces elude even the sharpest of magnifying glasses. The girl with the cooking show is on the television for a minute as I find something other than Christmas movies for this morning. I can barely contain the desire to devour her entire body sometimes, especially considering this morning marks my head returning to that dark, desperate place it inhabited prior to being under the weather. Hmm... Feeling ‘under the weather’ was interrupted by feeling ‘under the weather’. I have to switch to one of the shows. I’ve been buried in pants so far this weekend and do not want any more of it. In addition, there has been confirmation of something I’ve been mentioning for months. Well, actually I’ve felt it since roughly the beginning of last year and brought it up here later. No detail, of course. This morning has effectively demonstrated the idea that my happiness doesn’t fucking matter. There you go. Fuck the rest. The daggers, indeed. I am alone. Damn those closet doors, anyway. This is such a bad situation, and the fact that there is nothing I can do about it only generates anger and frustration. On the heels of that is the feeling that I can’t be unkind to other people, meaning the bottom line becomes clear due to such a gradient. I just have to sit here and fucking live with it. Nice. The only speaking is through this site, yet too much of what I place here is unclear. Nice, again. This past week I felt a little more comfortable because everything had been shut off or delayed. Now I can see that the temporary comfort was not real. There has been no true comfort for many, many years. Always... Something right there behind the facade and waiting to cause problems. I really don’t want or need any more of that shit from people. Today will be the typical work along with my football game during the early afternoon. I do like the later games better because the time allows me to complete most of my Sunday business prior to kickoff. 0857. I have yet to rise and work on my stuff. That section of my brain which blew up this morning is haunting me and will not let up. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I did not ask for this shit. 1125. The morning game is midway to being finished. My game is still two hours away. I completed the routine and have a bit of garbage work out of the way. I need to install batteries into some snowflake decorations that will be lined up along the driveway for the season. The sunshine is helping to make the house comfortable, meaning I can probably finish the drone repair and run a test at some point. The garbage is pretty straightforward this week. And since I pulled the trigger on my twin computer monitors, a bit of office organization may be on tap for this afternoon in and around the football game. Monday. The early morning had me thinking, and then a little something came along and made me think even more. There are lots of reasons I became tired of people. Most of them date back to the late glow. Some have come along more recently and are related to a certain segment of the population. Now I am in the mindset of being completely closed to people. I cannot say what is taking place here, though. If I spell it out, too much may be revealed about other issues I’ve had with society in the past and the flood will arrive before I know it. I can’t have that. The important point to remember is that my mood follows along with how others affect me at times, and right now I am less than happy to say the least. I need to keep this within the yard, too. An abundance of shit due to being angry is going to muddy the site content. I’ve done it too many times before and know how it starts. The early morning issues that came along yesterday and then repeated today are going to push me in a similar direction. Whenever the camel is forced into spitting, there is only one resulting stance. I honestly don’t know what else to do and never really learned to cope with frustration, so anger is key. This being Monday morning means at least a small part of my head can remain centered upon housework. I really wish that had not happened this morning. I don’t need more reasons to push against people. This is one half of the mood. Ugh. My sense of taste has been mostly absent for the last few days (understandable, too), but now it is returning and my coffee tastes a bit off-kilter. Rats. I did not miss the taste that much, to be honest. I just didn’t really care because my health had been fucked up and I had bigger fish to fry. The coffee being normal would be nice right now, though. I miss it. Wow. This crap from earlier is really ringing my bell today. I’ll have to do my best to avoid too much pissy behavior. One certainty about this type of situation is that once I become angry, no one else is aware of the reasons. Secrecy is the word of the day. Much of what I say here is already pretty unclear, but the anger remaining behind closed doors is much more important of late. I suppose one could see this feeling as yet another tiny method for me to maintain some control over an aspect of life. Believe me, whenever there is something I can control, it will be embraced to the nth. Well, until the need wears off and everything fades, that is. Anyway, if I continue to state how angry I am with a person’s words or actions, eventually no one will give a shit. Time forces everything to fade, honestly. Everything. This will be no different. Just know that something came along in life which made me look behind the scrim to see the reality of a small situation, and now I am aware of potential problems in the future. I can now avoid them. You’d think this to be a positive, but the underlying cause is too stirring for me to focus upon the benefits. I have already been angered and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Wait a minute... There is a positive that I can embrace easily, and that is the work. I’ll end up more productive due to feeling upset. To whom it may concern: Thanks for the rankling issue. Hmm. Another may be the idea that any other issue rearing its head this morning has been squashed. I might remove the image in favor of something else. There you go. Learn about the birth of Silicon Valley. I have not discussed her face or eyes in some days. I believe the reason is I’ve run out of things to say. The pants and legs on the television throughout the past week could also have been placed here, but you already know shit like that is going to happen, be it in fiction or walking down my street. I don’t see the point in belaboring such crap anymore. The girl is in my head and heart and there is not a fucking thing I can do about her. Nothing. Erin is on the television in a blue dress (of all things) and I want to fly up inside it like a deranged pelican, yet to describe those feelings is completely useless. Just like my desire to disregard Erin and others like her, I think the focus needs to move away from ‘her’ eyes and toward those little steps I can take in order to convince a certain number of real people that I’ve hit a limit with this shit. I know who she is and can’t do anything. I can’t say anything. There is no point in going around the world with the same words if I am just going to end up right back here completely pissed off. No point. I will probably mention her from time to time, but nothing more. Erin is funny looking sometimes. Doesn’t matter. Well then. I’ll have to try to forget her and just leave the situation alone for a while. Nothing permanent, though. That may be impossible. I am already past the point of no return anyway, meaning I’ve pushed too much to the screen in recent years to actually think there can be a resolution. I know bullshit when I see it. Maybe once the new desktop system is in place I can shift everything to one side and continue doing whatever seems best for the duration. I used to sit there with a big cocktail and wonder how I ended up inside such a small space. Now I just become angry because of the same. There is not nearly as much questioning. I’ll have to do my best with this crap. I don’t see another way to maintain my sanity. Anger will have to suffice for the time being. I can only be strained for so long before the mood turns to ash. I already know why she pulls at me so much, anyway. I know. There is a resemblance in reality and a connection in my mind, both of which have pretty well solidified the feelings of need. I went back to pairs of eyes and realized they were two parts of the same turning point and leaving me craving those same eyes listening to my desperate words. Now there is a third pair of eyes that connected my heart to another situation that I can’t forget or understand, yet the pull is greater than ever. I know who she is and what I need. This may be worse than having no knowledge of the source. Right over there. Light years away. Trillions of miles. The connection I made inside my mind doesn’t matter to another soul on this fucking planet, let alone anyone who can help. I have to sit here and pound sand, as it were. That is the other half of being so upset. There is a feeling attached to the memory of walking through the Macy’s Cellar and toward Burberry Lane in the midst of the glow. It is rarefied and special beyond words. The smells, the lights, and the company. There is another feeling from ‘96 related to my parents, the computer and defense electronics industries, and the valley. It is equally special and marks the very beginning of my writing. The last time I drove through there I was very upset due to so many changes. Both those images are gone, and I keep thinking of something on the television last night, a line of hope. ‘The past is not something to lament. It is something upon which to build’ [sic]. I must disagree because not everyone has the ability to put bad things or mistakes into perspective and file them away for education. That is bullshit. I don’t like the implication that I cannot be sad and miss good parts of my life that I may not have fully appreciated at the time. I keep looking back and seeing myself feeling better than I do at this moment, so the correlation is shining. Don’t tell me that I can’t deal with the present as I see fit. More importantly, there are two situations from the long past which continue to plague me each day. I cannot remove them, I cannot go back there and tell people to go fuck themselves (or worse), nor can I speak to those responsible right now and try to make them understand the fruit of their unfeeling actions. Now tell me that I am supposed to react a certain way to what has transpired decades ago. Tell me not to be angry and wish to destroy them. Maybe you’ll see the lack of outlet as much as I do, and maybe not. Jesus fuck, is this woman in the movie fucking gorgeous. Wow. Whatever. Just another vision with which I can do nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Shut up. Fuck you. No matter what I try to say, shit goes bad. I sit here and try to analyze and then the words are shoved back in my direction. I don’t think there is anything I can do about the negative feelings right now. That means I’ll continue as I see fit. Someone is going to have a problem with it because no one seems to understand that reading what is placed here is an option in life. No one needs to read this but me. Go somewhere else, please. Let me do what I am doing and attempt to make sense of the world. Stay out of the way and don’t interrupt. Go make your own site and type what you feel. I don’t care and I won’t read it. Maybe no one should be here in the first place. A password? No... Locking this is too difficult. I can keep it to myself, I suppose, because sooner or later there will be one or more people with a fucking problem. This is line number 666. I just hit another wall. I don’t like walls. This woman on the screen keeps looking better and better but she’s not causing all sorts of problems. Just beautiful, nothing more. Pretty eyes, slender features, dark skin. I think I’ve been too upset this morning to want to jump her shit. It is nice to see a dark-skinned woman without a huge rear end, though. Very well-proportioned, that one. Anyway, I need to take care of the routine soon because the clock pays no mind to my problems. The sun is shining like yesterday, so hopefully I can finish the drone and run a test. I’ve let that sit for too long. Wow, she is quite slender. Ugh. Whatever. This entry is fucking stupid. I wanted to go on about her eyes, but alas the virus and other distractions have completely derailed my equating them to Laura and Michelle number two. I don’t know what the hell I can say that will accomplish anything at this point in time. There have been too many issues to consolidate into something productive or with enough understanding to help the situation. Had I not seen her two weeks ago, much of this would not exist. I keep trying but end up rolling the train in a circle and eventually coming right back to the same fucking problems. I was talking about the rails last night. There was a Christmas movie set almost entirely on a train and I thought about the signal loss from phones when they were in the mountains. That led to the rails. And then I remembered speaking with a Union Pacific ‘maintenance of way’ employee way back in the early nineties about the possibility of finding work on the railroad. He told me there was to be a merger between Union Pacific and SP and the likelihood of my coming in from the dry cold and applying for work was probably not a good idea. He suggested I go to the offices in the City and apply rather than through any of the yards. The rails upon which he had been working were very close to my work, too. There was a switch and a wye not far from our office where I spent most nights. Wow, this woman in the current movie looks like a cat. I’m not kidding, either. Anyway, during one slow night when all was quiet, I decided to begin jotting down the times when I heard locomotives cruising by. Some time later, I drove over to an intersection and waited behind a restaurant where the rails crossed both roads at an angle. The space was roughly a hundred feet long and I waited on one side next to a fence. The line was straight and I knew the headlight would wash the area prior to the train actually rolling by. Well, I had been mistaken as to the direction of the trains I had heard up to that point and was caught off-guard by a four-unit train approaching me from the southeast rather than northwest. It was rolling along pretty fast, meaning the air was piling up in front and deceiving my ability to localize the sound. I was certain the train would approach from the north, too. Rumbling; rails creaking and sizzling with electricity; and then I saw the wash of light and spun on my heels to see two headlamps (one in motion) advancing on my position too quickly for escape to someplace further away. The train was right there eight feet from my body and flew by accompanied by wind and my nervous shaking. I was completely surprised and pinned to the fence for a full half-minute. That was the last time I tried to catch a closeup glimpse of one train rolling by. Subsequent attempts to record sound or shoot photographs were performed a few years later near my parents’ house in an open area on the mainline. No more confined spaces for me. A million tons of steel at forty-plus miles per hour makes quite an impact when a person is that close to the rails. I spoke of that incident because I was reminded last night, and believe me when I say that yesterday is one I would like to forget forever. Something took place nearly a day ago which has me more concerned than ever about my physical well-being. The only choice was to work around the house and try to forget everything. The train-related Christmas movie helped quite a bit. The cat-woman is looking better and better with a mass of lines on display and my brain trying to sneak into her clothing. Ah... She is now wearing a different outfit, thank Christ. There are no trains on this side of the bay aside from light rail and the commuter system running from the City all the way to the south. Those are different from freight trains, believe me. Very quiet and smooth as opposed to overpowering and heavy. One of these days I need to grab the big camera and find some location where I can once again shoot the trains, or at least the locomotives. The last occasion to shoot was twelve years ago not far from the southeast corner of the Sea in Niland. Well, the drive is real close to six hundred miles and I am not making that trip to grab a few hours’ worth of lens time. No way. I’ll have to figure something out closer to home. The only way to be there for some photographic adventuring would be to take the same trip over again, just like some years ago. The more I look back at that week, the more fond I am of the memory. I’ll come up with a destination one of these days. The map always calls my name and gets the sense of adventure all wound up tight until I start planning something crazy. Now that I have looked around for a while, the need to get the hell out of here and drive away for a while is beginning to expand. I don’t know about six hundred miles to the Sea, but something will come up soon. The trains drive my sense of direction at times. More often than not, actually. ‘She’ has a train, too. It is buried deep inside and rules the traffic in her head. That is the thing with a train... There is no altering the route or changing direction on a whim. The rails are fixed and a person goes wherever the train may dictate. No one can argue the route. Not at all. Right now my locomotive is idling in place just to keep the heat going. The controls await the end of this holding pattern. I have to get the hell out of here soon, perhaps my birthday in less than two months. That week will mark five years since the last road trip and I’m just itching to go somewhere with the camera in tow. Last year I came up with a hell of a route all over northern Nevada but the idea fell away like so many others in the past. My birthday always allows for some freedom to plan, hence the long trip five years back. Another gorgeous, slender woman in this movie. That never stops. Anyway, a week is not a long time for driving, so I’ll have to come up with some places that aren’t too far apart, also considering the furthest point from home being midway through the trip rather than at the end. I don’t like having to traverse hundreds of miles on the last day. Palm Desert may be too far this time, too. Wow, she is something to see. Five-nine and all that goes with it. Jesus. Whatever. I have other fish to fry. The memories of Palm Desert have been taking over this morning because of the Sea and landscape down there. Winter is very sharp and cool, the weather remaining mild throughout the cooler seasons, yet clear much of the time. That makes for some very stark images in the camera. I really don’t want to drive six hundred miles, although the first destination does not have to be the last. I could travel there for a few days and then keep another location in mind to drive part way home instead of enduring such a long drive at the end of the week. That may be best, and could facilitate some great time near the rail yards, not to mention the sea itself. I’ll have to think about this for a while. 1151 on the same day, Tuesday the 29th. Lunch is in the oven and I finished my daily routine. The drone failed its test yesterday, meaning the guy will be stopping by later this week to pick it up. I was sure I found and eliminated the problem, but alas those devices are very complex. I tried, though. My truck sits idle as it awaits inspiration. All I’ve done in the garage for the last few days is ensure everything remains organized. I don’t know what else to do out there. I wish yesterday had not happened. That is to say there was an incident which caught me off-guard and I may be ill-equipped to cope. This is something which came along some years ago but seemed temporary. I can’t explain, unfortunately. I can barely scratch this kind of topic, actually, because everything will come back and back and back again. I can’t have that type of thing right now because I am already far enough down. Wednesday morning, early. Another day, another set of dreams I do not understand. Oh, there is Jessica. Splendid. There had been a time when I really wanted to... Not anymore. Now I just stare. She just turned thirty-four a little while back. Fucking stunning woman, that one. Every now and again there is a touch of light coming through and it tells me that her lines are in place like never before. That is very rare, and something to which I’ve been glued for years. Seeing the lines and the face at the same time is a little overwhelming. She keeps showing up in black pants and a lovely white sweater with that brown hair all over the place. I’m going to begin dreaming about her again just like a few years ago, I know it. The lines are too much and her face is unique, both of them leaving me to realize that what happened the other day is merely a symptom of a much larger issue. Damn... She donned the long coat again. I wish things were different. I wish life could be different. Yesterday I became so lost in the afternoon that I was forced to agree to work today and tomorrow just to have something to do other than wallowing. I realize that may sound stupid after declaring the intention of taking off the rest of the year, but honestly the feeling was THAT bad for a while. I have to get out of here, and I’m not talking about a trip. Just a few hours away in order to instill the feeling of being overjoyed at arriving home again in the afternoon. I need it right now. The work yesterday was fine; my mood was not. I passed the time for a while prior to coming back inside for the evening relaxation. Music, beer, lousy attitude... The whole thing. Hopefully, this evening will come along and find me feeling better than the last two days. I could use a boost, plus the cash doesn’t hurt during this time of year. The legacy commercials always pop up each year at the outset of the holiday season. I keep using my middle finger to point to the screen, yet the fault of what happened does not belong to the software. I never should have headed in such a direction because the only result was anger. My dreams of the past ended up becoming confusing and skewed, nothing more. No help was served, no good information uncovered. I started out excited and a month later felt disillusioned and angry. Others can enjoy that work. Not me. I will not head in such a direction again in this life. I guess the subject makes me cunty sometimes. Oh, Jessica. Just let me... Please. Ugh. Please. Help me. Almost time to get ready. I don’t think the work will bother me at all today because I’m already aware of the lay of the land at that job, and the general is a friend of mine from years back. Everything operates very smoothly. The first time on a site can be overwhelming, but this will be my fifth day. 0603 on Thursday. Christmas movies have been ruling the dial since last week, partly due to my desire to see more than I should. Big surprise. The incident from the other day still has me at sixes and sevens. I don’t know what to do or how to alter the situation. This shit has been trying to take over my thinking for days. The work yesterday helped me to rid myself of worry over the future and a big question that keeps repeating whenever I am feeling lost. I don’t want to spell it out here. Work is fine. The money is coming in which helps with my Christmas planning, too. This is quite a change from last year. The other problem from early in the year is reinforcing this new shit and pushing me to think that such a change may be permanent. I will say in no uncertain terms that what comes to mind before anything else is my time with Andrea while we were at the Polynesian. We discussed much of life – both good and bad nearly all of the time – and commented often on the idea that the situation we had created for ourselves was idyllic and could possibly ruin the future for one or both of us. I am now beginning to feel that those days and weeks jaded my sense of comfort and may indeed have ruined any possibility of finding the good in life without believing that the bad has already come along and outweighed anything in the future, as if all the doors are already shut and there is no reason to search. That is not a very nice thought, even for me. I do not deal well with seemingly impossible situations. And I’ll try to avoid getting into the idea that what we shared back then was destructive and altered my beliefs in a bad way. I can’t have that right now. Ugh. 1610, same day. There is a Christmas movie on (naturally), the third of several. My head is completely overloaded from what I’ve seen and felt today. The work was just fine. We solved problems and advanced the entire project nicely. Unfortunately, between the previous movie, one guest beauty in the current movie, and the fucking cleaning girls across the street from the job, I am just about fit to be tied. The main reason was the movie. I could not keep my eyes in their sockets when that woman was on the screen. Oh, of course... The big eyes, long, slender legs, skirts, pants, the whole fucking shitaree. Damn it. And on the heels of the cleaning girls? Not good, damn it. Not good. I am going to lose my shit. I should not be watching these films, but inside of me is a hole that cannot be filled no matter what takes place in life, now or in the future. The fact remains that I become mesmerized over and over by the sheer level of artwork from time to time and have become too weak to resist anything that will hurt me. The words in my brain during those seconds cannot be repeated here, although I believe some measure has crept out of the shadows during the past few years. I just can’t help it. Keep in mind that the damage and desperation inside me are far worse than whatever I’ve tried to spell out on the site. Much worse, actually. I don’t even know how I made it this far once realizing that there is no future for me. There is nothing I can do about any of it, yet I keep looking and dreaming. Maybe I’m just a fuckin’ idiot. ‘Historically, that’s been the case.’ Thanks Tony. The woman in this movie that blew my skirt up is a fringe guest. Just a few appearances throughout two hours. Her face is all exaggerated like Tricia and she is very tall. I always notice the height because of all the stretched features. I still don’t know the whole story about the height thingy, though. Maybe watching the VS fashion shows years ago jaded me. I don’t fucking know, but it continues to this very second. The darkness is another mystery. Oh, there is the woman again. Maybe I can watch her walk and look at the lines. Splendid. Friday, 0609. I agreed to help again today at the job. Hopefully, we will be leaving there early like yesterday. I need time to think. The problem from early in the year is occupying my mind again this morning and I have no solution as of yet. This is very disconcerting, to say the least. As I mentioned before, there could be a solid reason why I’ve been feeling this way of late, but whether or not I am certain, it is not something I can place on the site. I will say in no uncertain terms that such an issue has never happened before and has the power to stop everything I do. I can also state that I believe I know why my sympathetic nervous system has begun to malfunction. One thing leads to another in life, meaning my path may have held the keys to the problems that I am experiencing right now. I can’t be sure, but it makes sense. I went from one extreme to another, and then back again only to find myself lost like never before. This is not a good situation by any means, and seems to be worsening as the days pass. I am more concerned at this very moment than at any time throughout the past year. Not good. The only kind of mood that can result from this type of thing is anger, pure and simple. I really did not feel like heading out the door yesterday morning and am the same right now. The hours will pass, though, and I’ll make it back here just fine during the early afternoon. The morning is the tough part because when I am in the mood to sit here and write, nothing else can compare. I have plenty of time ahead, however. I can help and earn some money in the short term only to reap the benefits later. The cash is really helping my holiday gift acquisitions. Time to get ready. 1418, same day. Work was both short-lived and productive. We accomplished everything that had been outlined. No cleaning girls, no designer in painted-on pants, no nothing. Just work. I have not forgotten this morning’s thoughts, however. They are still floating inside and hurting me. I have half the routine finished and will tackle the other half in a little while. There is an icy cocktail to my right. Believe me, I need it. I will not venture past the tipping point today, despite the rampant sadness and pain slathered all over my heart. One of these days, perhaps... Never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d be in this type of situation after all these years. Never. This is completely fucking ridiculous and I am growing more angry by the day. The most important aspects of life are more elusive than even the Passion. Again... This is fucking ridiculous. I am definitely going to flip the fuck out one of these days and then be held responsible for my actions by those who do not understand. The situation will be hilarious and harmful and I am going to do nothing more than laugh. The more trouble and discomfort I cause, the more I shall laugh. Perhaps I’ll run aslant of the wrong individual and be shot in the neck. 0721 on Saturday morning. I am sideways and there is no fixing it. I honestly don’t know what to say now. I’ve summed up quite a bit recently and now when I sit here at the keyboard in the morning I have little to type. Everything has been said. Well, everything I CAN say without being thrown out with the bath water, anyway. No details. For the last three years, I’ve been dreaming of situations and ideas and then placing some of them here to try and analyze or understand why my head moves in certain directions. I tried to learn if everything stemmed from the obsession, the trauma, or those incidents in between when I was put down. Now I just sit here and describe my work days or routine. I mention the beautiful women that come across the screen during the Christmas movies that I should not be watching (I learned earlier this morning that I can see some of my favorites without waiting for the actual broadcast dates and times). I am really tired of this crap... Sitting at the computer in the morning while feeling very down and alone and then typing the same terms as all the other mornings. I have been thinking that something will change or I’ll find some realization that forces a change in the way I have been living. Nope. Two-plus million words in just three years speak to the contrary. On many occasions I’ve asked if there is a point to this endeavor and the answer never really matters. I just keep going. The truth is that I feel more lost and angry right now than I did prior to the big site swing of fifteen. Seventeen was pretty bad, too. That summer had me reaching further than ever in my life and still nothing came of it. Now? That is all history and I look back at it almost daily just for the reminders (and sometimes the timeline). I am tired. Not too long ago, someone in the real world took issue with a few things I wrote and displayed here during the last summer. I was surprised. I was also taken aback due to the nature of the words. I shut that down right quick, believe me. That person will not be addressing me regarding the site, ever. Months have passed since it happened and I’ve gone over some of the content just to see if I could find something that stood out from what has become the norm here. I found nothing that could raise a flag, so everything remains as it is. No matter how many times I try to point out that this exploration is all mine and subject to no restrictions whatsoever, a situation arises out of the clear, blue sky and catches me off-guard. That fact has pushed me to think that if this content helps no one, why is it still public? Good question. I am going to make a change right now that will partially answer such a question. Done. 0936. The soccer match was a failure. I think this country is out of the running. Damn. My game is on at five. The only team that matters, remember? The day is wide open and I have no idea of what to do aside from the routine. There is a Christmas movie on, naturally, but no issues within the story. I’m sure that will change later today. Oh... I see two Ashley movies running consecutively. Splendid. Her nose alone is the stuff of dreams. Whatever. They will probably play in the background if I don’t switch back to the second show later. Right now I don’t really care which because either way my head will descend into her pants. I am a basket case. Shenae is wearing Christmas tree pajamas. Super cute. As for the rest of the movie, wow is there ever a gorgeous face on the screen. Blonde hair, but still... Holy crap. And one more time for posterity... Whatever. The day is wide open and I will have to find a direction soon. I can only sit here and complain for so long before slamming the laptop shut. This entire shitaree is worthless, anyway. Where is the train? The topic seems to have been lost toward the top of the page and I don’t give a shit. My level of creativity is very low right now, and that is why the titles no longer match the essays. Not only that, but the long series which began a few years ago without a conclusion is languishing in ‘development hell’. There is another part to the story, too. It’s about one hundred lines long. Nothing more. I stopped trying to continue that tale very early this year because the heartache took over and I couldn’t think straight. This is a daily issue now. Don’t expect anything of note on this site in the future, and keep in mind the most important part of such a fact: I don’t care. I’ve covered about as much as I can given the tools in my brain. Everything has been working against me for far too long to continue holding it together all by myself. Period. I can’t get myself to care no matter the circumstances. 1156 and holy shit... Not one, but two Ashley movies in a row. The first is playing right now and my head exploded while cleaning the kitchen. Oh, and not just her, either. The co-star is unbelievably adorable. She actually rivals Ashley in some respects. God damn is Ashley ever something to see in jeans and looking like a million bucks. Fuck me in a snowy ditch, that woman is an encyclopedia of dark beauty. Four hours of her on both televisions. I’m going to lose my shit today. I don’t know if her face has graced this site, but I believe it should (in spades). What I wouldn’t give to... As I said, part of the routine is finished. I am not in a hurry at all today. None of this shit seems to matter after being so down for weeks. Months? Years? Ugh. Good fucking God, that woman’s face makes me insane. It is chiseled. I had forgotten since the last holiday season, believe it or not. Jesus. Anyway, some of my work around the house is not terribly appealing right now but it has to be done regardless of my level of motivation. I added an image of Ashley just before the last section. Her face as framed by her hair is quickly rising in both beauty and importance. Sunday morning, 0707. My coffee has peppermint cream inside. Good stuff. I have a nice, mellow Christmas movie on right now for posterity. Lots of blonde hair again. I guess many people like the lighter colors. I don’t, yet the two main characters are super cute. After yesterday’s Ashley overload (not to mention her Asian hybrid sidekick), I could use a break from gawking at the television and remaining distracted all day. The game came and went, dinner came and went, and I slept. This is all so very exciting. I guess this site is running on empty, as Jackson Browne might say. There may be nothing more to explore here because I can’t say that much and I’ve learned very little anyway. The last year in particular has been nothing more than realizing that I am missing one hell of a connection and every other idea for exploration or learning is impossible in these late days. Sometimes all I see when I sit here during the mornings is some information and exposition about the house or whatever I might be doing, be it working in the outside world or right here at home. That is all. And then the faces and pants on the television. And then the difficulties I see each day that are slowly taking me apart. Around and around and back to the beginning. Running on empty, or at least very close. I have to do something different. Everything seems to force me into the same position at some point each day, and that is being angry about this situation. I can’t do anything about anything, and I’ve been thinking lately that even if I did force some sort of change, the inside of me will be exactly the same. What would be the point? The past is unchangeable, and the more people tell me to leave it in the rear view mirror, the angrier I become due to sitting here as a product of that time and unable to rise from it. There is too much power in those memories, period. No matter where I go or what I may do, the memories will not change. I can say the same shit in only so many different ways. One of the minor characters in this movie has an amazing mouth. Such an observation actually labels me, believe it or not. I am not supposed to point out details or I’m a sexist. Well, then I am a sexist. I am of only one sex and to believe I can live my life without making observations or comments about the (much) more attractive half of the world is completely unrealistic. Her mouth is gorgeous but difficult to describe. Shoot me. I am already miserable. May as well point out the details. I have heard worse from other people, near and far. I don’t even know why I became defensive. None of this matters. And I forgot that the site content is inaccessible to anyone but me. Very good. There she is again... The lovely smile. I have a very skewed sense of reality and a distorted view of society. Those two combined are much of the drive behind describing some errant woman that I see in the world or on television, also reinforced by living the way I have for the last many years. The compulsion grew from obsession, and the obsession grew from a few possible situations in the past. I still can’t point directly to any of them, however. I can only surmise to know for sure of something concrete. The point is that I know when I sit here like this and see the actors on the screen, there are two certainties. One is that the characters are fictional and often WAY off what is actually living in real society. The other is the idea that despite the fact that they are actors, I still see real people and draw similar dreams as I might for someone seen in person; the woman across the street a few weeks ago with the kids and the toy car, for example. Her legs screamed at me so badly that the work fell away and I felt pain inside due to the inability to see her lines closeup. I don’t know her and never will, just like the pretty smile on the television this morning. They are all the same and may as well not even exist. The bottom line is that my focus has been upon the very few rather than the whole of society. As such, my view of the other half of the population is extremely distorted from what is actually related to real life. Add in the science fiction and my dreams of a machine and one can see the image of my derealization coming together clearly. Sometimes when I look at someone I am not seeing a person. I am seeing an object. That means I am no longer fit to operate within society. Months ago I stated that my path has lines on either side which have been converging as time passes. Witness the result. And still no train. The last thing I would ever do is attempt to justify what I’ve become. I am only trying to paint a picture. 0821 and I am looking forward to doing my usual Sunday business today. I’ve been thinking about running one of my favorite shows in the background in favor of the Christmas movies because of the distraction. I know the shows backwards and forwards, meaning I don’t have to see everything and hear each word. It’s more relaxing that way. I’ll be here alone for a few hours like a typical Sunday. My little world will be under my little measure of control. Not bad. Jesus... Fair skin tone contrasted by bright red lipstick? Failure. Ugh. Whatever. She is still adorable for whatever reason, but all that blonde hair and red just ruins the image. Too bad. Anyway, I have a little to do in the kitchen and then whatever else might look appealing, after which will be the home-team football game that I will watch alone. The other day an idea came up to catch our game at the big restaurant not far from here with my buddy. I love sitting at their bar because the food is outstanding and the atmosphere is quite old-fashioned. Well, due to becoming infected weeks ago after a gathering at the other bar, I believe the safe choice (smarter, too) is to remain home. Believe me, I would love to perch myself there for hours with all that great food and watch my team, but I am afraid that the chance of problems is still too high. Another day, perhaps. Maybe closer to Christmas when I am feeling all nostalgic. The work today will hopefully keep my mind off any imperial entanglements. There is always something to do; I just don’t always have the motivation. After seeing Mallory the other night in several different outfits and hearing a comment from my partner regarding how ‘skinny’ she appeared, I believe both my view and taste in the female form has changed as recently as the last couple of years. Mallory is very slender, and after seeing her (especially wearing a beautiful pencil skirt) walk around the sets for two hours, I began to view Ashley as a tad larger than my taste, to be honest. And Ashley is slender, too. She is not as thin as Mallory, yet in the grand scheme she’s wonderfully built. I realize how this may sound, but the truth is I found the more slender of the two more attractive to my eyes, and I believe that view is here to stay. There is a limit, however. There is always a line present when it comes to the ratio of height to weight for people. ANY person, really. Even myself. I believe Mallory was close to that line, as her curves were still prominent but she could not tip the scale very much. I don’t know what that means, but I know what the issue is causing on the inside of my head, and that is the idea of my view still changing from the ‘runway model fascination days’ many years ago. This entire line of thinking can be very hazardous, as well. A flytrap for negative comments. Fortunately, there is presently no way for visitors to address me unless they are acquainted with me in the real world. Heh. I don’t have to listen to anyone. I just combined ‘Her X’ and ‘Her XI’ because I don’t give a shit. None of this means a fucking thing in the scheme of the world, anyway. I may as well spray paint my words on a beach. The result would be similar. I may alter the title again if this crap veers further from the opening lines. 0903 and another movie just began. I’ll have to transition into the Sunday business soon. I like to care for the floor and litter first thing because it feels like the door to the work is opened by doing so. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling. Anyway, the previous paragraphs have effectively tired me out for the time being. Outlining why I find one woman attractive and the next not at all is not easy, but I believe it is important to learn of the genesis of some of my interests because the knowledge may lead to understanding why I become so fucking depressed when I see the lines. The woman walking with her kids that day was likely the most striking example of dimensional passion so close to home. I was literally DYING to see everything and I still don’t know why that draw is so powerful and crippling at the same time. I keep trying, though. And despite what may come across as an ‘end’ to this exploration (like above), there can truly be no real conclusion. There is an Asian beauty with amazing lips in this movie. She is a flight attendant. Who cares? No one. I really need to begin the housework soon. Sunday is one of the good ones and I can’t lose sight of such a fact. Hopefully, the anger will not rear its ugly head and force my hand today. I don’t want to become pissy. Another flight attendant with big, dark eyes and a gorgeous mouth. Jesus. I’ve seen my fair share of lovely staff on aircraft, but this movie has them all confined to one fucking plane. Heh. Anyway, I am going on about the beauty too much this morning. I’m going to try to cease the description of every little thing that crosses my vision (good luck). What happened to the ‘train’? This has gone so far off the rails that I can’t even imagine what they look like anymore. Maybe I should return to writing about the desert and the little scorpions with headphones. Something just popped into my head when the characters in this movie climbed into a rental car. I can’t say what it is, though. Believe me, such a thought has been one of the largest questions and most stirring points of contention inside my brain for more than a decade. It is also a sidebar to the bulk of what I have written, nothing more. There are no degrees of the word 'impossible'. The term is an absolute. 1325. The routine is finished and I have some laundry going while the game is on. I went through the refrigerator and removed some science experiments, too. Yikes. The Sunday business is mostly finished. Very nice. Now I can focus upon the football game and take it easy. Monday morning and no work until I feel like it. Nothing but coffee and Christmas movies for the duration, or until such time as I deem myself ready to go out the door. I may shop at the big wine store later, but at least that is entirely up to me and subject to my whims and schedule. Work is different, although not as bad as it used to be a few years ago. I was really disillusioned with the entire process. These days everything seems mellow for some reason, even while in the midst of a job. If I do venture to the wine store, I may take a detour over to the electronics store and inquire about desktop systems for future reference. This day could prove very rewarding compared to the last couple of weeks. I actually feel very free right now. There are still problems swirling inside, but at least I have the time and space to think. I must try to avoid becoming really pissed off. Being at work does not allow me to dwell upon anything because of being busy all the time. Now that I am home after more than two weeks of either working a lot or being under the weather, the free time is opening my mind to those issues which had been ruling my mood for a very long time. There are too many, so I will refrain from going down a list. The point is I will have to try even harder to keep my temper and wording reined in from this day into the near future. That is a tall order after all this time. I will say being home this morning is very nice and feels rather liberating. Hopefully, this mood can continue without my flipping the fuck out. The train has gone awry. I had a really nice plan for creating a narrative around the recent discovery that ‘she’ may be nearby and the correlation between ‘her’ and her. For days I sat here and attempted to build a bit of a story which was to begin back in twenty when I was desperately searching for ‘something’ that felt a connection of sorts and then bring it forward to the present with my constant gushing for a certain character. There had been the realization that ‘she’ was here in town and resembled some of the facial expressions so closely that I lost my mind. The train was going to go all over the place and explore each destination as I lived through it during the past three years. Well, all that went to shit in the last few weeks as I became more and more disillusioned with trying to help myself, and more angry due to feeling so alone in this. The train never left the fucking station, meaning my narrative was halted before it ever had a chance to start moving. This is not good because I use trains and other devices as vessels for my deepest thoughts. Without them, I will fall on my face and sound like nothing more than a blathering idiot. Wonderful. 0829 and the inside of my head is a map of lines this morning. One more little nudge and I am off the balcony. 0856. Consider me 'nudged'. 0945. I am listening to one of the great unrequited loves of my life, the very same that drove my ass out the NASA gate nineteen years ago and straight to Las Vegas on a sunny fall morning. This music has been the catalyst for so many past entries that I probably can’t even count them all. Over the wireless MDRs, it is all-encompassing and violent. Sometimes I need it to carry me through a day, and today is the type. Pain on the inside, pain on the outside, and not a fucking thing I can do about either. This may be the day when the last huge mural on the inside of the garage door is outlined. I already have a few things going thanks to the compositions, meaning if my productive state can continue, the outline will begin later. This album drives me like nothing else in the world. I will find the fucking train soon enough. 1208. I finished almost everything and wrapped a few presents for Christmas. The typical cocktail is next to me. Also, I switched from music to the television for good form. Too much of certain music combined with alcohol will create a bad situation out of thin air. I can’t have such a thing right now. I need to maintain a positive stance today, or at least as positive as it can be after a shit morning. The incident which took place last weekend is weighing on my mind. I can’t get rid of it because the day could be a glimpse of the future, or it could be nothing at all. The only way I can react to such a day is with anger. I am so sick of everything that I’m surprised to be operating this site after all this time. Nothing helps me, most of all other people. I honestly don’t know what to do or say to people, anyway. They will believe whatever they wish and I’d rather be left out of the whole thing. The incident to which I refer is one of those issues which will not be detailed here, nor will I speak to another person about it no matter who may come along... Not even ‘her’. I will say that it holds the singular ability to destroy me, unlike anything else. If I disappear, no one will ever know why. 1559. Everything is finished and I have a roast sitting on the counter to warm prior to cooking. Dinner will be pretty easy this evening. The gangsters have been keeping me company as I work around the house, meaning the love of my life has been appearing here and there. Another step toward the new desktop system was accomplished, too. I need to order a chair for that room. Once again, the last component will be the machine. I don’t need to be in a hurry because this computer has the power to run twin displays until I can acquire the desktop. The most important step right now is a chair. ‘Tis the season to be FUCKING FLOORED by beauty. That's right, kids. The damaging dream slammed my head for a short time and I could not operate my brain for several minutes. Once again, everything flared. Right fucking there and a trillion miles away. Improbable? Nope. Impossible. One of the most stirring visions of my life, yet again. A situation requiring just enough strength for me to lose my way for the remainder of the night. Right fucking there. I am recording a movie involving a train combined with unique beauty and it won't matter in the least when held against the most powerful draw imaginable. The visage is unparalleled. I am going to flip out tomorrow. The world beware. Stare. Unaware. Hair. Right... Under... THERE. I have never yearned so much for anything. This is very bad. So close... 0706 on Tuesday and I still have that image inside my brain. The thoughts in my head during those moments were more desperate than anything in recent memory. Yesterday was bad enough without having such wonder right next to me, even if it was short-lived. The morning turned into a pile of shit, I then kicked into gear and accomplished a ton of work, and then the afternoon sun angle opened my mind to the Christmas glow until destiny hit me upside the head hard enough to force visions I should not be embracing. Moreover, just a little while later in the evening I recorded a movie starring one of the great loves from the last decade after having lost track of her career for quite some time. Between her very unique face and several early shots of her lines, I set in to watch the entire film while almost constantly rubbing my forehead as if the world was coming to an end and saving it was up to me alone. Nice. I watched the whole movie and lost my shit twenty times over seeing her again, all the while with the damaging dream and the scent of something full of torture dangling right behind my eyes. The combination of the damage and the movie was too much for me and I called it a day. Now I have to think about everything, like always, yet worse. I really didn’t need both visions in the space of two hours. I just changed all of the images to one person because she reminds me of someone who used to be close to me. No, not a person mentioned here. Someone else from the past. Lyndsy was in the movie last night and created a wonderland of memories and visions from a more peaceful time in my life. Her smile melts me to this day, so Lyndsy now graces the entire entry. This is much better than the haphazard melange of images that were here before today. I can’t think straight. The female lead in this movie has duck lips. Cute. I don’t know how I am able to hold it together during those moments when everything spins out of control, like last night. The incident was unexpected and I was unprepared for the experience, especially considering the circumstances since last summer (which I cannot explain). Believe me, if the subject was available for comment here, I would have already written reams of information to attempt to describe both the situation and my feelings. All of the words are right there at my fingertips, too. Right there. I would love to lay it all out here, but unfortunately the site would not be the same and I can’t have this apple cart upset right now. Last night I was moving around the house trying to locate a few items and tools, all the while thinking that the sheer level of disbelief over the entire affair was unprecedented in my life. Afterward, I moved around the house again, that time muttering and mumbling to myself and trying to maintain my posture without completely losing it. I succeeded, returned to dinner preparations, and finally had the meal. And then Lyndsy appeared on the television and sent me flying further into orbit. That was more than enough for one fucking evening. There is a positive to this, as well. Yep, a positive. The level of strength inside me last night peaked and all of the feelings were closed off so much that anyone standing before me would have been completely buried in snowfall. I have become an expert at putting up the largest artificial expressions and long lines of bullshit in order to keep the truth absolutely buried. An expert. Part of that is fear and another part is strength. I know not from where the latter came, but I appreciate the ability. I need it, in fact, or everything will come crashing down on my tired head. Not a smidgen of emotion or difficulty can come forth. Nothing. I will have to continue the bullshit facade for the duration, as well. There are no changes on my horizon, only more arduous moments requiring my massive snow-making machine. I keep seeing imagery from yesterday and I feel like my head is going to explode. The damaging dreams were just that – dreams, and nothing more. When reality comes along and pops me upside the head like that, I really don’t know how to react other than clamming up and spewing bullshit in random directions in order to throw possible difficulties off the trail of my genuine feelings. The situation must remain under wraps or bad things are going to happen. My immediate reaction was a defensive posture. That posture remained long enough for me to regain my composure (inside) and continue the afternoon while daydreaming of the most improbable imagery in the world. I can’t say it's impossible because there have been stranger and more far-fetched situations in the past which actually took place. This one? Unlikely, yet I cannot deny the reality that things can change. I’m not holding my breath, though. 0837 and I can still remember everything. There were seconds in which I thought I saw something there, yet I cannot know after hours have passed and no inquiry would be acceptable. None of this is going to make any sense to others, anyway. I haven’t really said anything, but at the same time – and with my knowledge of the inner workings of my own head – I’ve gushed a ton of information. I thought there was a glimpse, but the only way to be certain would be to ask questions and that is not going to happen. The whole shitaree shall reside inside my mind and nowhere else on earth. What I believed I saw is actually possible and that is the bottom line. I don’t believe it was wishful thinking (although that is not such a stretch). I am proud of myself for not losing my shit last night. There’s another positive for you. And... Today. Last night I said I was going to flip out today. I don’t feel the same, the anger having left in favor of a more analytical stance, so I think the day will be fine. I have the usual work plus an order to pick up at the big wine store later. There may be another destination if I feel the mood. Right now I don’t know if I will want to go anywhere else. There is no laundry waiting, my garage is nice and neat, and the routine will not take long at all. I’m going to end up with a ton of free time, and knowing how my head can end up sideways, I’ll try to keep some sort of pace this morning so I don’t lose my way. I also have to let yesterday afternoon fade into the past. That one could stop me in my tracks. Nothing in the world is more powerful. Hmm. An image popped into my head after moving some files off the server. Lyndsy resembles the rollercoaster girl, a face I’ve not considered for some months. Very interesting. Oh, I have the entire documentary in HD on this machine and backed up on the server (and RAID system), plus I have acquired software that can extract images from the video and save them. Curious, all those years I could see her beautiful face inside my head and yearned to watch her in motion. I finally found her after scouring for the tenth time, and now she just sits there on the computers. Maybe the search was the thing, or perhaps knowing I can see her whenever the mood strikes is enough to keep my brain satiated. Honestly, the rollercoaster girl returned this morning due to Lyndsy on the television last night and my subsequent image search this morning. Funny? Maybe. Or the case may be nothing more than my weakness and need to imagine being comfortable in a way I’ve missed for nearly two decades. That is not so funny. Where is the fucking train? Derailed? Or is the locomotive stuck in some abandoned roundhouse and awaiting attention? That’s probably it. Wow... I just decided that for my birthday next month I need to get the fuck out of this place and capture some images of locomotives, railroad beds and cars. Again with the trains? Yeah... Again with the trains. Alicia’s co-star in the fictional office on television right now has one hell of a face. Eyes, nose and mouth... All gorgeous and exotic, not to mention those high cheekbones that blow up professional lenses around the globe. Damn, she’s gorgeous and frightening at the same time, standing five-eight. There is a very specific set of features which always causes me to turn on my heel and face away, and she has it. Pretty, but ‘stay away from her’. I can’t get that fucking smile out of my head this morning. The work will have to suffice until such time as I can extract the difficulty and cease imagining all manner of indescribable situations. I can’t talk about that stuff, unfortunately, or the site would have to go away forever. The fact is I can’t get what transpired to leave me alone. The flowing hair was more than enough to drive my head straight into places I will not spell out. I’ve done it, but I don’t want to anymore. There is no need. Oh, and I recorded the movie with Lyndsy, so picturing the rollercoaster girl with her arms around me is going to continue, bookended by Lyndsy herself and the shit from last night. Maybe if I become all pissy again I’ll be more productive today. Heh. This is all too much sometimes. Do you see how the damaging dreams can steer anything away from my keyboard and take over the writing? They are THAT fucking powerful and return when I least expect. 0919. The sun may make an appearance later this morning and allow me some time to tool around in the garage. Hopefully, anyway. When I head out to the wine store I’d like to visit the hardware emporium, too, yet most of the time when I drive over the hill I end up wrapping up the trip quickly in order to return here where I am most comfortable. Today may be the same. I don’t know yet. I’ll try. Being out of the house for a while may help to alleviate the anger which built up last night. I was ready to pull the trigger on some enormous studio monitors for blasting music at even higher, more clear levels than I already do while in a bad mood. Now? I don’t feel so strongly. This is mostly sadness and frustration, meaning the angry situation is not likely to come about today. 1140. The imaginary situation has not left my head for a second. I finished most of the daily routine and have the next few hours to myself, for whatever that may be worth. But... I keep thinking of questions and answers; possibilities and dreamy comfort. Over and over my brain is going through permutations of the most incredibly wondrous motions and eye contact. Running away has been in my head, as well. Anything to help distract my mind from such strong feelings. I can’t stop seeing that face so close to mine. Right there. The only positive to come out of all those considerations this morning is the idea of actually getting the hell out of here for my birthday. Running away is not in the cards unless I experience some kind of very unlikely windfall, so a trip in January may be my only hope for skipping town. I have a little more housework left. The gangsters have been keeping me company. I don’t believe even the lovely Jamie can shake loose the desperate needs and scenes playing out over and over inside me. All I have to do is make it through the next few hours until evening. I just have to make it. Ooh-fa. There are VERY specific images in my head right now. This is bad. I have to drive over the hill to the wine store in a bit, but I’m not worried about what I may see in that place because the other one is governing my internal slide show. There is quite literally no comparison. 1438. Everything has been finished, including a quick trip to the wine store. I went straight there and back in the interest of saving myself some grief. Still, the one in my head last night remains in control of my thinking. I was not in the store for more than five minutes thanks to an online order having been pulled and ready. In; out; hello; goodbye. I keep seeing that face over and over no matter where I am or what I’m doing. At least the chores are out of the way. There is willpower inside and I have no clue as to the source. There is going to be another ‘recognizer’ very soon. Menacing, overpowering, and unrelenting. Nothing like the last one. Well, another strike to my senses took place and further inflamed the dreams. Now they are larger than life and swirling through my head once again. I cannot believe something like this has developed so late in life. Very unexpected, especially considering the proximity of the dreams to what took place in my head two months ago. I am hoping some time will pass before anything else comes along to floor me all over again. Cocktail hour is nearly at hand. I am still watching the gangsters but may switch to Christmas programming very soon. Believe it or not, I must rise and cross the room in order to change the volume right now. The remote for my home theatre receiver was doused in wine earlier. The spill happened on the heels of the strike and a vision from beyond the netherworld. I was shaken and moved back to the sofa to grab this machine when my arm tipped the cup and caused a spill. I then had to move furniture and do a thorough cleaning of the floor. The remote is in pieces after disassembly and a similar cleaning. Once dry, I can return it to my right and be in full control once again. The vision caused the entire event but I am not upset about it. I’d rather see than not. That is a ridiculous statement, of course, but perhaps not coming from yours truly. Seeing can be worth the difficulties. The gangsters are still on my big television. I might switch later, but for now I need to avoid the possibility of seeing some gorgeous woman in those fucking pants. Watching Lyndsy move across the screen yesterday was plenty, not to mention something else before my desperate, distorted eyes. And speaking of distorted, I can’t even begin to describe the shit flowing through me during the last few days. I can’t say what happened, either. Believe me, I wish I could share it all here and possibly learn from the experience, but the downside remains too dangerous. 0746 in the morning and my head has already descended into the pants of the woman in this movie. That is just fucking peachy, don’t you think? The situation does not take long to develop, ever. Well, if I am in a really bad mood to begin with, the feelings don’t move in such a direction. I changed to the other Christmas movie channel for a little while. Maybe I’ll put on the gangsters and save myself (somewhat). This day is wide open to whatever I feel may be best. The usual stuff will not take long, meaning I’ll have some wide-open hours later. I am not having an easy time of it this morning, though. Both yesterday and the day before held difficulties that will not ease up as of yet. I keep seeing the imagery over and over, all adorable and soft. I made it through well yesterday despite a third and then fourth strike (minor stuff) and rolled into the evening just fine. Sometimes my mind calculates that I don’t have any choice if I am to continue with this lifestyle and I move along as if nothing is out of order. Last night was the same, meaning I chose to be as comfortable as possible and construct the blockade so my mood could not be read by anyone. I stayed on the sofa and tried to let everything fade prior to hitting the pillow. Today will be much the same minus the trip to the wine store. The dreams are in my head pretty fucking deep, though. Deep enough to surface every few minutes (!) and attempt to derail my thinking. I’ll have to remain vigilant and push my way toward the afternoon. Where is the damned train? Wow... This one went all the way around the world and never found a topic. Splendid. I need to get that fucking image out of my brain or I’ll never effectively explore any other issue. Damn. Maybe I’ll throw away a bunch of shit today. I don’t know. I wish that first dream had not taken place. I’m certain it led to the third (the WORST) and my increasing feelings for the subject of all three. This is the toughest crap to work out in years. I have my own difficulty in searching for something that is probably not real, I ran into the woman who I believe is actually ‘her’ and suffered for it, but lately I suppose that shit is not bad enough. There just had to be another level to the pain in the form of more impossibilities all piled up with a fucking cherry on top. I didn’t need that stuff. Now? Not a minute passes without me seeing those hands again. Shit. And depending upon which historic prodigal therapist one may follow, the dream could have been wishful thinking or completely beyond my control, or even as far as a shit ton of suppressed feelings floating along a river of denial. Take your pick. The fact is I am having more and more difficulty recovering from any incident, and much more than just weeks ago. The dreams and strikes are quickening my downfall and I am powerless to change such a circumstance. Long and short of it. I don’t need any sort of train analogy for this shit to be clear. You’d think that the idea of actually suspecting that someone I already knew in life could be ‘her’ would be the most overwhelming situation imaginable. To a certain extent, it is. The problem arose a few days ago and forced my head to shift and focus upon the dreams again. There is so much power there that the other one – the possible, actual ‘her’ – has been on the back burner, much like the train. As soon as the second and third dreams came along I knew that reality was going to be a huge problem. I fucking knew it in my heart. And? The trouble developed just as I had predicted, and even worse in some ways. I wish I could say why. Part of me needs to scream at the top of my lungs and get the shit out there. Another part knows that a single word to anyone would most likely result in my life becoming infinitely more difficult than it is right now. Maybe I've grown too intelligent to recklessly throw a lifestyle into the dumpster as I did in the past. Now I just think about everything without end. A few terms have been popping into my head during the last few months and should be addressed. I really don’t know what to say, though. I’ve tried to equate the feelings in my head to certain situations from the past and reconcile them with what has taken place during this most difficult of years, one in particular... 'Infatuation or being smitten is the state of being carried away by an unreasoned passion, usually towards another person for whom one has developed strong romantic feelings. Psychologist Frank D. Cox says that infatuation can be distinguished from romantic love only when looking back on a particular case of being attracted to a person. Infatuation may also develop into a mature love. Goldstein and Brandon describe infatuation as the first stage of a relationship before developing into a mature intimacy. Whereas love is "a warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion to another person", infatuation is "a feeling of foolish or obsessively strong love for, admiration for, or interest in someone or something", a shallower "honeymoon phase" in a relationship. Dr. Ian Kerner, a sex therapist, states that infatuation usually occurs at the start of relationships, and is "...usually marked by a sense of excitement and euphoria, and it's often accompanied by lust and a feeling of newness and rapid expansion with a person". Phillips describes how the illusions of infatuations inevitably lead to disappointment when learning the truth about a lover. Adolescents often make people an object of extravagant, short-lived passion or temporary love.' I honestly don’t know if that applies, although I can’t deny the resulting emotions mentioned at the end of the third observation below. I just don’t know what to think now. Strictly speaking, some of it does an excellent job of outlining much of what I have said recently. There is no denying the negative power of being in this type of position, yet at the same time, there are still positives to being alone and yearning for something impossible. Aside from demonstrating damaging or reckless behavior (I know all about it because my past is riddled with such actions), all I do much of the time is sit here and attempt to convey everything that is working so hard on my emotional condition. My analysis on the site hurts nothing and no one. I have kept everything locked up inside, and whether or not it has had a detrimental effect upon my well-being, no one else is involved. That’s a big positive. Another is the fact that no matter how far beneath the soil I reside (in my head), I am still going... Still trying to understand everything. That is another upside. And there is Oksana with that long, dark hair and her amazingly stretched features. Jesus. There you go... Another sight which pulls my attention away from what is so important. Marvelous. I do not feel ‘love’ for the subject of the damaging dreams. I do feel it for the other one... The woman I suspect may actually be ‘her’. The emotions when considering her face run very deep. The girl in the dreams is different. Unfortunately, I can only say so much about that person due to possible backlash. I really don’t want or need any guff from people. The pile of shit which has me overly frustrated much of the time is the fact that I am only acquainted with both, nothing more, and the future shows me no possible reciprocation. Such knowledge is an enormous downside to the way I feel right now. The apple cart, remember? I can’t throw everything to the four winds for what is by definition the slimmest of chances. I just can’t fucking do it, love or otherwise. The infatuation has a better shot at fading away over time. At least I understand that much. 'Unrequited love or one-sided love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved. The beloved may not be aware of the admirer's deep and pure affection, or may consciously reject it. The Merriam Webster Online Dictionary defines unrequited as "not reciprocated or returned in kind". Psychiatrist Eric Berne states in his book "Sex in Human Loving" that "Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner." However, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche contends that "indispensable... To the lover is his unrequited love, which he would at no price relinquish for a state of indifference." Unrequited love stands in contrast to redamancy, the act of reciprocal love. The inability of the unrequited lover to express or declare their love often leads to negative feelings such as depression, low self-esteem, anxiety and rapid mood swings between depression and euphoria.' Sound familiar? 0952. Lots of shit in my head right now. Not Oksana and her long, slender legs. Other stuff. The dreams, infatuation... Love? I don’t know. Maybe that word doesn’t matter because I am in no position to explore it and should do nothing more than type it from time to time. In the real world, I have no clue as to how I could change anything right now and expect improvement. All I can do is write and think. That rhymes with ‘drink’. Sounds good, huh? 1026. I have a bit of the routine finished but my brain is too preoccupied right now for continuing. I cannot say why, but trust me... None of it is good. I don’t deal well with impossible conundrums, and my current dilemma holds the record for being the worst. I’ve seen things which force me to question the past and the way I feel about the fairer sex. My feelings are such that I can’t move around the house for five fucking minutes without being interrupted by either pain or sadness. When the routine seems like an uphill battle, something has to change. But what? I keep seeing those situations over and over and then dream of many years ago and where I was, eventually falling down again and again to then find myself back at square one. I may never be in that place again. What a fucking thought. I need a brain replacement. Memories gone, imagery removed, permanent changes to the way I think... All of it. A complete redo. I don’t want to think this way anymore but have zero choice. The more I try to push it away, the more the thoughts supplant anything I attempt. I hate this shit. 1154 and now the routine is halfway finished. The kitchen will not take long, so I’ll wait until after lunch and have everything polished. I also moved some living room furniture so the floor could be cleaned. And there is Saundra and her big eyes, all dark and gorgeous. Jesus, did I ever want to climb inside her bra for years. That woman is pretty fucking tall, too. Lots to gaze at and explore, lines and those places where they lead. Damn, what a fucking beauty. Ugh. I need some fucking help, right fucking now. Lots of swearing, eh? This is only the beginning. I have the office pretty well set up for the new desktop system, yet still no machine. I am hesitant to spend the money after acquiring twin monitors and the chair. Funny, only the computer itself is absent from the table. Maybe after the new year I can pick it up. Once the chair arrives, I’ll set up this machine and connect to one monitor. I can also use the new keyboard at that time. The model I picked out is literally the cat’s meow of desktop input devices. Awesome. Soon I’ll be in there with blasting music and alcohol to inhibit clear thinking like years ago. One thought that comes to mind often is that entry from the summer of seventeen when I thought I was going out of my fucking head due to the issues. Well, here we are five years later – a long respite notwithstanding – and much worse off for the passage of time. I cannot comment further. Leave it to Adriana to smoke a cigarette just prior to a tennis lesson. Heh. The terms above are tattooed all over my brain like so many images of the past. I don’t know what to make of all this, however. Infatuation? Naturally. I believe it happens more often than not, and all over the world. Love? I don’t even know what the word means. It represents a connection that could very well be different for everyone who speaks of it. Their feelings could be radically different from mine. I will never know. The word is analogous to color, honestly. I see a stoplight that is red, but what I see as red may be what others see as blue. Understand? We all call it the same color but it could appear different to anyone looking. There is no way to know the truth... Not even with testing. Well, as far as I understand it, anyway. Uh oh, there is Noah. Yikes. He was an elitist ass, yet none of his personality merits the massive and degrading pile of shit that Tony throws his way. Whatever. I have other fish... Holy Jesus God in a blue sweater is Jamie ever the definition of beauty. Sorry. No I’m not. I love her. I really do. A fictional character, not the actor. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Where to go from here? My typical reaction when the imagery and memories are unwilling to leave my head is anger. I suppose that is natural for a personality that has been painted in tones of control. The title went astray, so I changed it. And then it fell away again, so I changed it. A third change and here we are with an ambiguous title that could mean anything. Fuck it. The anger is building not only due to my inability to follow a line of thinking, but also thanks to the past apathy and those who disregarded or minimized the impact of two specific events which have shaped me over many years into nothing more than an automaton. They are the root cause. Others inflamed and exacerbated such a stance to place me in a cold, damp cavern rife with hatred. This is where everything comes together in a very bad way. I have taken a set. Fuck the time. Everything is finished and I had some lunch with my brain overflowing with thoughts of that third fucking dream. I can’t even go into the kissing from the fourth. Believe me when I say the third took my head and tossed it into a blender. On the heels of that experience? I saw the evidence right before my eyes and not four feet away. Right there. I was in a small space despite being near several other people. It was my own little world. I heard conversation and whatnot, but didn’t really hear anything except my own inner voice reciting lines of desire that took me so far away from everyone else that they may as well have been in some other universe. My head could not process two plus two. Desire and frustration overtook my senses until hitting the pillow a little while later. Thursday morning, the eighth of December. The obsession has been flaring for some weeks now, and I believe the trigger was that girl walking the kids some time ago. On her heels was the other one walking the cute dog. There have been others, but suffice to say that the Christmas movies are not helping. I have to see, though. I HAVE to see them because the chances of admiring the most stirring lines in the universe cannot be passed along by yours truly. I just have to see if the lines are along the lines. Don’t ask. Between Lyndsy the other day and all of the others since then, my head is completely fucked and I can barely follow along with any story playing out. Right now, for example, there is another Brooke on the screen and I keep asking that the camera angle change just enough for me to see some of her form. Here and there, I catch a glimpse, yet nothing is ever enough. The lines drive other thoughts forcefully and continue until I can’t fucking stand it. This is not a good morning. Brooke looks better and better as time passes. I worsen with every second of it. She is just one of far too many. The problem is those other thoughts can’t be fucking stopped. Nothing affects them short of some kind of emergency or other shit. The flare is so bad right now that the lines are overwhelming and painful, yet no matter how bad I feel, there is not one fucking thing I can do about any of it. I just keep dreaming and becoming angrier. I am like a powderkeg that will not explode when lit. The result of everything is nothing more than one tiny person sitting here miserable. There is a whole world out there and none of it matters. I’m in a terrible spot right now. Last night was the same. I kept watching to see how the story played out, all the while dreaming of things better left out of this content. I found a huge pair of eyes and yearned to see them up close, not to mention her beautiful gait that I desperately needed to follow. Her image is down the page. The blonde. No sooner did she express some emotion through her face and eyes when I connected her structure to that of Wendy all the way back during the eighties. I could not believe the match once my head equated one to the other, and keep in mind that I have not thought about Wendy for a very long time. The correlation drove me insane and I began to have feelings for the beautiful face I was seeing last night. That is the level of desperation I’ve achieved. I wanted to stare for a while and then be wrapped up in her arms for the rest of my life. This is so fucking pathetic that I am embarrassed to type the words. So broken. I switched over to HBO a few minutes ago to save myself some fucking yearning. This has been a very bad flare. I probably should have expected it after watching those movies last season. The imagery was already in my brain thanks to what I’ve seen close to home and while out shopping, and adding movies only increases heartache. And the other situation... Those dreams from months ago. I honestly don’t have the first clue as to how I’ve been living each day and breathing through this shit without completely losing my mind and causing distress for those who know me. Maybe I’m just a nice person. The other possibility could be that I am a fucking wizard capable of altering myself into other forms so that people cannot read anything, nor can they have any idea of the pain inside. Another one? Maybe I’ve become so adept at hiding everything out of a sense of shame or fear that I no longer see the level of insanity involved in doing so. I am an expert at misleading people, so perhaps the ability to falsify my appearance in any situation came naturally. There is no second choice, anyway. The flare is creating sentences inside that I can’t repeat here or to another person. I’ll be labeled. I will feel ashamed of myself. And this fucking bullshit is not entirely my fault. Much less, actually. Believe it. Despite the difficulties and dreams that fly through me at high speed while watching the holiday films, I will continue to do so regardless of the pain. I’m going to feel it anyway; may as well sit here and admire the most elusive beauty in existence. There was a guest star last night whose form showed through some very smooth jeans, believe it or not. Jeans. I caught a glimpse of the lines actually diverging and lost my mind. Just another fucking tidbit of shit to emphasize my insanity over beauty and the way I consider such things. Splendid. I just don’t understand anymore. Maybe I never did and should have ceased the effort when that shit essay was published five years ago. Five fucking years. I was very unhappy then. Just think of how such a condition has progressed, and then consider the difficulty in holding back a tidal wave of anger just to ensure no one around me becomes uncomfortable. Isn’t that just wonderful? My mood is going down, down, and down some more. A hammer swing may be the only way to relax later today. Later the same day. I have the routine finished and helped my neighbor perform a repair on his air compressor. I also rolled over to the goddess market for a few items. No problems there aside from what is already swirling in my head. There is a nice, big cocktail to my right, like every day. And here we go with Christmas movie number one for the day. Right out of the fucking gate there is a beauty. Figures. I have yet to become pissy enough to swing the hammer, plus if I did I’d probably freeze out there in the garage. Other parts of the country get much colder than here, yet after decades of being acclimated to the weather, below fifty is not conducive to spending time outside in the breeze. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming in later today. Rain and wind, I guess. I’ll have to remain indoors for the duration. There is plenty to keep me busy in here without flipping my cork. I nearly did that prior to shopping because I felt completely imprisoned by problems and there was no key to be found. I did learn something, though. Sometimes when I drive up the highway there is loud music playing. Lately, I’ve been listening to the news and it keeps my head from following the sad subject matter of some of my favorite songs. I did the same this morning and returned a tad mellow as opposed to my departure. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Watching the lovely Mallory the other night followed by TWO movies featuring Ashley was a trial, not to mention Lyndsy right on the heels of the others. Lyndsy was the toughest, to be honest. So tough, in fact, that there were moments when I dashed outside for a cigarette because I thought my head was going to come apart. I have never felt so fucking frustrated and desperate in my life. That is not an overstatement by any means. This is worsening as the days and visions pass, not to mention those fucking dreams and related strikes that force me to paint pictures I cannot describe here. Some help would be nice, although I already know it will cause nothing more than increased bad moods and concern. I know it by rote. I am still watching these two channels regardless of the inherent and inescapable examples of the obsession, one after the other. I just don’t know what the fuck to do about this condition. I made a connection in my brain when standing before that woman a few weeks ago and can’t do anything about it. She will never know of the feelings or realization. To this very second, I have avoided going into detail about exactly what that connection entails. I do not believe revealing such an enormous event here is going to solve anything, either. My head continues to see the downhill rather than any upside, and what happens as a result is I keep going back to the glow. I do it whenever the current period fails to measure up to anything comfortable. Dreams invade and drag down whatever mood I happen to experience upon awakening and then leave me so desperate that I don’t know what to say or do. The movies show me bits and pieces of the obsession, in turn driving my head into places where there can be no reality. Sometimes I see a woman out there in society and return to my car angry and then beat my head against the steering wheel because I am no one in the grand scheme and my needs are meaningless in the world. Just imagine the realization mentioned above and how much it has added to the pile of shit inside me. Someone needs to shut me the fuck down. There is no other way. As usual, this is going nowhere, nor is it helping me. Belief to the contrary is misinformed. Period. No one knows... What happens if I run out of things to say? Or worse, what if I already did? Like, say, five years ago after publishing that pivotal essay and felt as if I had been residing inside a glass case and permanently separated from people? I have been railroading the same ideas and observations since the outset of the pandemic. What does that mean? Nothing else to say? Have I been finished here for years? IS ANYONE GOING TO ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS? Nope. There is nothing I can do about anything, so the keyboard is the victim. I’ve already replaced it twice. I’m sure there will be a third occasion after one of the keys becomes worn or stops operating properly. The keyboard is the listener. There is nothing else in the world. I feel like shit right now. As long as the depression doesn’t flare as bad as other parts of me, the days will continue to roll past like those dioramas in the tunnel. I believe I’ve seen this movie. The weather is coming. Is everything unfair? No, not at all. The situation simply ‘is’. I bumped my head on the microwave/hood last night making one of my favorite meals and there is still a sensitive spot. Damn. This woman in the movie continues to become more beautiful. Does that matter? Does she matter? Do my feelings matter? Switch. Purchasing music with the phone is WAY too easy. Heh. This is all so fucking bad now. Running out of reasons to say anything, running out of interest in my typical daily activities, and worse, running out of feeling good when I rise from bed in the morning. On many occasions I’ve pointed out that something bad is going to happen. I feel it more than ever. I feel it right now. The obsession has driven me insane for too long. It has also driven my head further in recent years than in the past when I felt nothing more than a mere fascination with numbers. The numbers can never be enough. Some of the most difficult and painful situations have combined in a very negative way and have begun to show me just how black my future is. Black. Bleak. Damned. I turned off the Christmas movie and went back to the gangsters. They never steer me wrong, nor do I have dreams about any details which come along from time to time. I have only dreamed of Jamie and I being together, nothing more. I’m sure I’ll dream of her again but there is nothing I can do about my subconscious. If I blow up my feelings here, the dreams will come. If I say nothing about her, the dreams will still come. More black. This has been a real nice fucking clambake. Do you see that I've gone nowhere in five years? Nowhere. A bit of laundry and a few sounds. One of them grabbed my attention for a few seconds and nearly knocked me off my feet. The dryer required me to regain my composure and try to let the visions fall away. Those damaging dreams have the power to draw me like a gun no matter what I may be doing. I was pulled into her nether regions and a massive fantasy for the tenth time. Sometimes while I am busy, my mind wanders and I become captivated by all things impossible. Believe me, there is no application for the word ‘improbable’. Not in that case. On the minuscule upside, while the laundry was running I ventured to the kitchen and made a pile of pancakes for a few quick breakfasts in the coming days. Once the laundry was rotated, I polished the kitchen for the second time. Dinner preparations shall commence in two hours. Still productive? Yes, despite the gaping hole in my being. The gangsters have been following along; the third season violence being apparent. I’m used to it. That girl enters my head every fucking day no matter what else may be happening or however busy I may be. None of that matters. The sheer weight of those dreams point to the fact that I cannot discuss them with anyone, ever, plus they take over my head often enough to force the realization that no matter how fucked up I may feel, things are actually much worse. Isn’t that just a nice bowl of flowers? Fuck. Friday morning. I should not be watching this movie. Both Ashley Newbrough and Christa Allen on the screen at the same time and forcing me to continually ask questions that cannot be answered. Huge, beautiful eyes, sweeping smiles, and more questions. This is not good first thing in the morning. I don’t need any more shit in my head, but at the same time I am the one making the decision to watch these movies each year. God damn, Christa is a segment of beauty rivaled by very few. At least the early business is finished and I can relax a while before moving further. Too much in my head. This hurts. All I do is think, day in and day out, sit here with the keyboard and then go through the motions. This is no sort of life... Not for anyone. I believe in these late days that I am too far gone to recover. Much too far away, distorted and forcibly altered from who I once was. Ashley and Christa are dressed as elves. Jesus fucking shit hell, anyway. No recovery. Perhaps the time is nigh to cease all efforts in being happy or comfortable. Do you have a better fucking idea? The sun may shine on the house in a little while. Maybe if the garage warms up I can exercise my diminishing mood. I really need to lash out in whatever direction feels satisfying, but at the same time I know lashing will not accomplish anything good. Nothing will change. I’ll come out the other side exactly the same as I am right now, if not a touch worse. The only positive is feeling a tiny measure of freedom and control right in the middle of the shit. Are they real? No one can know, but my money is on ‘no’. I almost constantly need to fucking scream at someone, but who? Does anyone deserve such an attack? Nope. Not even a little. I can’t do anything but exercise my mood through whatever (sort of) reckless behavior, and then everything comes right back and my mood and future fall away once more. There is a girl in this ridiculous commercial that I desperately need to devour. I don’t know why. Anyway, my shit mood notwithstanding, whatever else takes place during business hours today, the sunshine will help. I just wish I could affect change in something... ANYTHING. I would give anything to surf across her lips for one fucking minute. Anything. This is only going to worsen over time. The situation is pretty fucking bad if I would trade away the Passion for something so seemingly simple. Nice. All I do is go through the motions day after day whether I decide to work outside the house or remain here. Going through the motions. Christa’s jeans are a map of the obsession. Ugh. I will refrain from speaking about her mouth. Anyway, this kind of life is not only wrought with internal issues, but can spread to other people very easily. I can’t have that. Even if those around me are pains in my ass and I don’t like them, I still cannot be unfair. The result? Even more feelings shoved into the back closet of my head, completely inaccessible to people. I am doing my best to avoid being cunty toward anyone. Those who know me can read the shit without a word, believe me. They are aware of my stupid tirades that accomplish nothing more than annoying others. I am helpless here. The daily motions may be all I have left. Everything else has become tertiary and blurry. I see pieces of life falling away each day, memories slicing me to ribbons, and the future appearing darker with each passing thought. I have to embrace the motions because I don’t know what else to do. Do me a favor and give me another option. 0842. The quiet is only broken by the television. Last cup of coffee. Christa’s fucking lips are amazing to see. Big fucking surprise, eh? What a basket case. And Ashley’s jaw breaks one of the visage rules of the past. I never really liked a squared jawline, but she is unreal. The same happened with Mallory two weeks ago. Square jaw. Well, that may be changing unless the reason is other features lending to a softening of the line. I don’t know. Basket case. The office is awaiting money. I failed to repair the drone, so it just sits there. I put my truck back into the display case prior to Halloween and it has remained idle. I have a project of a wooden holder for my two most-used power tools and their batteries, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing I was going to do out there feels pressing in the least. Yesterday I did the laundry and dry cleaning, so today is literally wide open to whatever seems best, but what is that? What is best? Can I even do anything besides wallow in unhappiness? I don’t see the rails changing direction. I don’t see positives. Something has to change, yet at the same time, what can change? My attitude? Good luck. I am this way for good reason. What else can change? Let go of the difficult past? I don’t think so, 'rolyaT'. I remember Ashley from the last two holiday seasons, but this year she appears infinitely more beautiful. I don’t know why, however there is an inkling... I am far more out of balance and far more desperate than even one year ago, hence those over whom I gushed last season look even better now. I have been more vocal, too. That is an example of weakness. I speak too much about beauty and the effects upon me, and to gush about such things is fucking weak. I am not proud of myself right now. That lucky fuck just kissed Christa’s big, beautiful lips. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I am in a much worse condition inside compared to a year ago. I felt pretty fucking bad back then, too. Or at least I thought I did. Maybe I should be dead. Jamie is so far off the scale of cute that sometimes I yearn to jump into the television and ask her to hold me. Everything could melt away... Impossible... The word of my life. 1045. Housework is finished unless I decide to go further like yesterday. Nothing dramatic, but maybe some cleaning of the floor under furniture. Right now I have to take a break with my buddy in the glass. All morning I have had imagery and memories plaguing my mind to the point of nearly losing it. The hammer swing may yet take place. I don’t know. Nothing changes. ‘No flies in the whiskey’ did not hold up. There was a fly in the glass, damn it. Well, a drunken fly. The rest of this day is as of yet unknown. Once the drink is gone, I have tons of options, including the hammer swing. Right now I just don’t know, though. My mood changes with the second hand on the clock. There are things I would like to accomplish, although depression has the ability to remove any ambition and force activities to become uninteresting. I am depressed, no shit, so the days when I accomplish very little tend to be the norm. Those times when I break out of the din and push toward some goal around the house stand out. There is Annabella and her amazing form (at just over forty years of age, no less). Unfortunately, her character is a complete whack job and in dire need of more than psychiatric care. Such a fact ruins the appearance. The woman is stunning and her ability as an actor is beyond fantastic. I always remember... If you hate the character, the actor is effective. I don’t hate her character, yet the negatives overshadow her vast beauty. Where was I? Ah... Today’s work. I may not do a fucking thing with the next several hours other than put on some music and fiddle with details. My surge protector arrived this morning. I can mount it on the underside of the desk so it is ready for the new desktop system. That is a good step toward the goal. Once my chair arrives – I believe it will be here on Tuesday – I can move this machine to the office and get everything running. The desktop computer is still up in the air. I am pleased that the laptop serves its purpose well. The scene with James and Annabella at the zoo is wholly disgusting and I typically skip through it just to avoid cringing. It just ended, thank the maker. Ugh. Rain is forecasted for this evening and tomorrow. I’m glad I treated the perimeter of the house yesterday after helping with the air compressor. We have had no invasions for well over a year due to my diligence with the treatment outside. I just have to maintain the process. 1406. I disassembled the surge protector (not recommended unless you REALLY know what you’re doing) and mounted it securely to a section of plywood. Those units generally have holes for sliding the back onto two screw heads, but historically I’ve found that such a method does not hold up over time. Very few surge protectors have mounting ears, so I did it my way. Everything is awaiting my attention in the office. In a little while I need to drive over to the bar to pick up a payment for all the work I did throughout the last few weeks. That money will greatly help the holiday experience. I like to give gifts. Other than the little trip north, I will be here pondering the way of the world. I am not happy with the current period, but as the mighty Jem’Hadar always say, ‘It is the WAY of things’. I can’t disagree. I just wish I had their natural power. Still no train. Fuck it. Everything is just shit now. I tried remaining in the garage longer than the time it took to modify the surge strip, but to no avail. I even washed a blanket and cut up some boxes for recycling in order to extend the time. The garage is just not blowing my skirt up today, music or otherwise. The problem is being overly preoccupied with the issues in my head and the scant nature of the way my life has been for the last year-plus. If I can’t resolve or rationalize my feelings, nothing will make any fucking difference. Not even the little routine and other tidbits around the house. I cannot easily push things away and direct my attention elsewhere after all these years since the first essay. That felt like a turning point of sorts, yet here I am five fucking years later, much further down in the soil, and feeling even further from comfort. I wouldn’t know inner peace if the word was tattooed backwards on my forehead. The mirror would probably lie anyway. What a fucking mess. I keep dreaming and dreaming – likely part of the problem, to be honest – and then sitting here wondering ‘why’ things must be this way. Pain, torment... Twin thieves robbing me of the solace I so badly need each day. The prospect of my future being more of the same is very unpleasant and may force my hand. God damn does that first image of Tara ever look like Wendy, the type of visage unequaled in my experience. Tara is the first woman to resemble one of the first loves of my life, and she is so close that watching the movie the other night drove me up the damned wall. There is something about the relationship between her nose and mouth that screams Wendy. That is the first time I was ever enamored with a facial feature, but keep in mind Wendy carried two disparate features that I have yet to see in combination on another face. I have an image of her from more than thirty years ago which shows off everything. Anyway, I was caught off-guard when Tara produced that adorable, crooked smile and I made the connection. Unreal, both of them. Now, if I could just... Ugh. Sometimes I see where this is going and other times the future is completely black, meaning I can't see anything. Maybe those two options are not mutually exclusive, I don’t know. What I do know is that each day I do what I do around the house, recall good things that cannot return, consider those fucking dreams that will not loose the strangle hold on my mind, and then watch movies with all manner of beauty and sheer fascination regarding dimensional passion and the obsession. The visions lead me to bad places, just as at the pool all those years ago. This is what I do every fucking day. The only difference between the holiday season and the rest of the year is the movies are absent. In this day and age, with technology as it is, I can literally watch anything, anytime. I choose to wait for the last two months of the year so as to avoid wearing out the image of Christmas, however. Believe me, I would love to see some of those actors in all their splendor day in and day out. I will be just the same either way. Looking forward to what used to be my least favorite day of the year – January the second – nothing seems changeable. I will do the same chores and activities, work on whatever seems pleasant or interesting in the garage, watch my football games, and in the end all I will be doing is watching the clock and calendar advance to the fucking grave. Annabella’s midsection is void of anything that should not be there. Jesus, at her age? That is some fucking work and dedication, people. Anyway, I don’t see the beginning of the new year as I did while working full-time. Now it is just a line and increasing numbers, not the least of which is my birthday shortly thereafter. As of yet I’ve been a champion of shoving everything aside and making nice. I cannot guarantee such an ability will continue for much longer. One tidbit: The beginning of the year is the 'bleach box'. Chew on that. The future? The ‘eyes’. More chewing. 1602. I just returned from my meeting near the bar. Now I have cash from the last few weeks of work, plus a plan to work again for at least a day next week. Very good. This may help to facilitate the desktop system. The drive was uneventful but I was scanning like always. The search never ends. Now I have a Christmas movie on with none other than the lovely Autumn and her unique facial features. Damn it all, anyway. I have to see her for all the pain it may cause. I just have to see. Don’t ask about what I’m thinking when I see her leggings. Everything is bad these days. The Christmas movies shall rule the dial for the duration today. I’m going to feel like shit anyway; may as well gaze upon the genetic flukes of the world. Autumn is toward the top of the heap. Believe it or not, those I've mentioned here are far more beautiful than the tall models over whom I once obsessed as they gazelled along the runway. Crazy. I am so fucked up that the more I think about it, the more I sit here in complete disbelief. I’m not kidding. I fail to understand how the present has become such a fucking wreck as opposed to the past. I was not expecting this shit. Oh, there were thoughts inside due to the past, but not this bad. I mean... Jesus fucking Christ. Something has to happen, but what? Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? That’s what I thought. There is weather coming in again, possibly this evening. That means my Saturday will be spent indoors. Maybe I’ll watch these movies all day long and experience pieces of my brain fall away like wet cake as I sit completely helpless. What a wondrous idea. Oh, God... Autumn is something else. Those are the definition of ‘doe eyes’. Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I need to lick her lips. I'll stop right there. You don't want more. Anyway, I can work in the office a while and then do whatever else may seem appealing. I will wallow in the morning like always, rise and get ready to work on the routine with a fat glass of depressant, and then everything will become minimized and I’ll stand in the middle of the living room wondering what to do. That is a given. At some point I will grab this computer and type whatever I am feeling (most likely gushing about some actor on the fucking television and my inability to be where I need) and then try to move around and find something which needs attention. Splendid, eh? This is all so fucking stupid anymore. The titles don’t matter, the words all run together and repeat, and then I get up in the morning and do it all again. What’s the fucking point? I mentioned the weather. That doesn’t really matter, either. I will be exactly the same despite the fucking jetstream. And then there is Autumn again. She has no clue as to my sheer level of worship. In the long run she’s better off. No one needs to be affected by my distorted mind. Saturday morning, 0647. Holy crap it’s windy outside. I have to take care of the morning business shortly. Afterward I plan to sit here and contemplate everything. The housework will be as planned, too, because the weather is going to preclude any garage work unless the doors remain closed. I could go out there and draw the outline for my last mural, though. That needs to be done with the door down and lights on. We shall see how I feel. Also, I received notice that my chair delivery date moved up from Tuesday all the way to Saturday. That is very good. I’ll be able to set everything in motion. I need to clean the floor in there and then mount the power strip. I’ll move this machine into the office for some display testing. I am looking forward to operating my little computer empire once again. The table originally moved more than two years ago, I believe, so that is how long the desktop system has been down. My intention was to keep the editing mobile all the time just in case the shit hit the fan and I had to run. Well, that's not going to happen. I have to stay here. Running away and lavishing in the manner I need requires so much money that it may never take place again. Ugh. 0839. The wind outside is incredible. I keep looking at the big tree in the front yard and have been concerned about it coming down or fracturing for some time, probably ever since the neighbor’s tree across the street came out the other side of a storm leaning to the tune of thirty degrees. Not good. It was removed some days later due to blocking their walkway. I really hope the wind lets up soon because the tree to which I refer is actually a heritage, planted some seventy years ago. I’d hate to see it harmed. The weather is far beyond anyone’s control, though. Wait and see. She reminds me so much of Wendy This morning has been difficult. I am tired of saying that. 1016. Failure. Strain. My chair arrived so I ventured to the garage – only the big door open due to the wind and rain – and assembled the whole thing with a cocktail and my friends in the background. I’ll tell you... Installing televisions in the kitchen and garage has been a Godsend. I can have my necessary comfort no matter where I may be working. And the chair? Fantastic. I’ll bring it in the house when the weather eases a bit. I have half the routine finished, as well. The kitchen sits idle. I will take care of it after a break. I needed to get off my feet for a little while. Wow, the weather is crazy right now. I sure miss the sunshine, although the entire state of California really needs the water. 1342 and I ran out of gas. The surge protector is mounted and I connected this laptop to one of the monitors to test everything. Success. That means once I acquire the desktop machine everything will be ready. Very nice. I also cut up and tossed the chair packaging into the recycle bin for tomorrow. Holy Jesus shit fuck... There she is with the huge, sweet eyes and hair framing the most beautiful face in the world. Damn it all. I may as well go back to the Christmas movies for a different type of strain. Both are so very bad. Anyway, after caring for the garage and office, I didn’t know what else to do, so here I sit for the fifth time today. Sunday morning. What does that mean? I don’t know. This entry went off the rails a couple of weeks ago. I guess I’m losing my way again because I have no idea of what to say. God damn does Candace have some legs. Whatever. Sunday morning is usually nice and quiet because there is no sound other than me until much later. I have uninterrupted time throughout the morning, the tree glowing to my right and a Christmas movie up there on the big television. I am hoping to remain a little bit positive after yesterday went to shit. Am I concerned? Somewhat. There is no way of altering my situation, meaning whatever takes place one day does not necessarily need to destroy me. I’ve been trying to keep my head on as straight as possible lately, nothing more. Bethany will be on the screen for the next two hours and is wearing an a-line dress. Damn. So, today... I will probably sit here for the next two-plus hours and then take care of the quick half of the routine. The kitchen will follow along with a cocktail. The early football game will be on, too. The important game is once again in the afternoon, so I can have everything finished prior to kickoff. There is an Asian hybrid girl in the background with amazing lips. Anyway, by the time the football is kicked, I will probably be half in the bag and a mental wreck. I don’t see possible improvement on the horizon. This is straining my relationship with life. This morning I recalled the fact that I never revealed the resemblance. I saw that woman for a few minutes and was slapped in the face by the connection, realized that the woman is ‘her’ for all intents and purposes, and then gushed about the event for a little while. I never added the name, though. Heh. You’re just going to have to live with my choice of keeping it to myself. I don’t want the information out there; not right now. There is enough strain inside without adding something which may invite comments. I’ll just have to leave it alone for the time being. Damn. Bethany’s dress... Now she is wearing a very short, leather skirt. In Winter? In the snow? Why do they costume actors in such a manner? She has lovely legs, but the scenery would dictate dressing warmer. I don’t even know why I’m trying to take issue with a Christmas movie. Ahh... Now the whole group is outside to look at decorations and Bethany is the only one not dressed warmer. Everyone else is bundled. So ridiculous. Or? Maybe the director is obsessed with lines like I am. Again... Commenting is not going to accomplish anything. The closet doors got me yesterday. They grabbed my psyche and did not let go until I felt like shit. Sometimes the imagery of the past will come along out of the clear, blue sky and slap me upside the face, other times the doors do it. Even rarer is hope for the future, although that one will not only slap me, it will irreparably alter my day’s trajectory to a continuous downward slide right straight into a pit of alcohol and very unpleasant music. The doors grab and let go fairly quickly, whereas the future will hang around until I am nearly ruined. I really don’t like it. I am going to do my best to avoid letting those closet doors punch me in the face today. I have my usual business and that will have to be enough. Holy shit, Bethany just slumped down on a chair, paired her knees, and then slid just enough to reveal a glimpse of her lovely lines. Fuck me in a stocking. She is not helping to keep the imagery at bay. Maybe I should change the channel. And as for the rest, all my strength will be required to avoid a bad situation today. I am already feeling very angry, so I’ll have to keep the effort up all morning. The Christmas movies are going to be short-lived today. All it takes is the right type of glimpse to allow the closet doors to enter my day and choke the life out of any ambition. I am fucking strained enough already. A couple of years ago I wanted to swallow that woman. Sometime later I was content to look at her beautiful eyes. Now? I don’t fucking know, but she is something to see, especially in the skirts with leggings. Gorgeous woman, that one. Let me get away from the gushing. Back to feeling the strain. Holy shit, she is thinner than I recalled earlier. Eh... Shut up. 0749. I am seeing the positive aspects of a Sunday at home. I will have the entertainment of my choice, work at whatever pace feels best, and accomplish everything necessary prior to game time. That thing I was talking about some months ago was on my mind yesterday as a result of feeling the pain of the past. I’ve seen it perhaps twice in my life, but did not think enough to really focus and try to figure it out prior to this year. Well, it may not be something of which I am capable, honestly. I have considered what took place in the past, and the only conclusion is that I did not know why such an occurrence grabbed my attention. Wow, the main character’s sister is a really unpleasant character sometimes. Maybe it’s the facial expressions. I don’t know. Where was I? Ah... Something I have yet to identify. The truth is I can’t figure out how or why such a situation comes along. I really can’t. I’ve thought about it until nearly driving myself nuts, too. Perhaps the best thing to do is just leave it alone right now. This will be difficult because it is a compelling subject and I’ve wondered for some time. Most days I don’t want to know anything about life or the world. All I’ve experienced as a result are periods of loneliness or yearning due to learning about something and then being removed from the possibility by force. The 'thing' to which I referred in this paragraph is very elusive and I don’t even know how to word it in order to find some helpful information. I suppose the suggestion of leaving the subject by the side of the road as often as possible is best. I seem to have zero options, anyway. Fuck it. Maybe I only brought it back to the site because I enjoy typing on this keyboard. I had the music blaring yesterday while cutting up the cardboard. Nothing unpleasant, though. Just some old progressive rock for a little while (the funny part is I only listened to four songs, and due to their penchant for lengthy compositions, those four comprised nearly forty minutes). I wasn’t really feeling the anger as much as I had earlier in the morning. The crushing blow that hit me mid-morning did not want to let go for quite a while and I had to push back. Eventually, I felt a little better, which is to say less shitty and strained. Sometimes Bethany’s facial expressions are super cute, while other times I can catch a glimpse of what she may display while in a bad mood, and it’s pretty fucking scary. ‘Run the other way’ seems to ring in my head when she is close to looking frightening. Heh. Anyway, the music is generally an indication that I am feeling either frustrated or experiencing a lack of control. I built that big system out there so I could lash, and believe me it works well. The control I seem to possess while lashing is, of course, not real. All I am doing is playing music at a high level, nothing more. And it is short-lived, too. Some time after moving out there and blasting, I begin to feel empty because lashing does not change anything. The fucking sad truth is I hold sway over very little in this life, the more important items being far from my grasp. This tiny house and my attitude cannot add up to shit, really. When I become all angry and begin to feel rebellious, nothing happens. I am small, and like those other issues, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The music can keep others away, that’s it. Eventually, I close the doors and move back inside to realize that all I did was waste hours with nothing to show for the time. There is very little I do in life that isn’t fucking stupid. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I must say this brand of Italian roast is not very tasty. At least it was cheap. Is there anything I failed to cover in this long-ass entry? A better question may be, has anything been solved? Nope. All the same crap in different order, or maybe using different terms. I don’t know. What I do know is how I feel and the necessity of avoiding certain thoughts being spelled out. I am completely strained lately. Completely. Fucking. Strained. Between the shit at the job a few weeks ago, those on the street and the others on the television, I am feeling more strained than ever. Pushed. Shoved. Graded aside like so much dirt. Life is enormous and I am realizing that my effectiveness with regard to others is fucking tiny. I matter very little right now, hence all my shit about trying to lash. I don’t have any other avenues through which to express my dissatisfaction. Yes, I realize this is an expression, but why don’t you come knock on my door and explain to me just how much difference this stupid fucking site has made? Do I seem better off than seven years ago when I nearly threw my life into the fucking shitter for the lines? I thought so. I believe that is the reason for my endless, repeating commentary on the related topics of beauty and such. It just never fucking ends. One up, two down. Two up, and dead. Give me two up and I’ll try. There’s an old one for you. Nothing has made a damned bit of difference. Sometimes I see the cycle... Sitting here in the morning and finding enough weakness to describe some woman on the television (meaningless), and then feeling weak and desperate enough to become angry and full of desire, and then moving to the garage and standing there staring at my handiwork while realizing there is no point to my trying to affect change. And then back into the house so my mood can force me back to this machine and the IDE to spew more words (also meaningless). I am seeing the futility of it all, and such a fact is very bad for those who know me personally. I have very little reason to live from day to day. If one of those reasons disappears, I will be one step closer to residing in the soil with the worms. And yes, I keep coming back to that kind of thinking because I have no reason to avoid it. The end may be the only REAL line in my life -- one which is actually possible -- unlike everything else. I have to move away from this right now. I want to lick Bethany’s fucking thighs. My tongue would come out of her nose. Desperate? Yearning? Neither of those matter. I don’t matter. Madder. Fuck you. Shut up. Leave me alone. Fucking stupid bullshit, anyway. This entry reminds me of Tony shouting, ‘I HATE THIS FUCKING SHIT!’, although I am not in a similar situation as that guy. Can you see how everything might lead to anger? Frustration? My inability to affect change in even the tiniest measure is creating a very negative space lately, as if everyone with whom I’ve had contact has done nothing more than placate me for their own benefit. That is not good. I’d say that they should heed my warnings and listen to my words, but what do the words matter? If I speak, will my words make any difference? I think too much time has passed since first addressing this shit five years ago. Too much. Those years have only served to solidify my stance and reinforce the idea that I may honestly be paying for the past. I can’t be certain, of course, because at this point in time I couldn’t think straight if I had ten fucking brains. I’m just so pissed off right now... Nothing is going to sound reasonable. I removed some of the stories from my past. You know, those trips all over the place and the stark descriptions of my activities with a few very special people. Gone. I don’t want to see the titles and I no longer want anyone to read of my fucking gallivanting and stupidity. The train series has been assembled as one long page, too. Unfortunately, that one is even more personal and will not likely return here, ever. The gallivanting is bad enough, honestly. The train? Yikes. I just can’t have eyes on that shit anymore. I probably should not have published it in the first place. All it takes is some enterprising young fuck to do a copy/paste and then my shit is gone forever. I need control over the content. 1122 in the morning. My routine is finished and the garbage work is in process. I decided to take a break and mention that not only is Taylor the goddess in this movie, but also the other woman with the diverging lines on display while wearing JEANS, for Christ’s sake. Unbelievable. That view is so fucking rare that I can’t even begin to describe the obsessive slam which is holding me hostage. Bad enough is Taylor’s face and those Goddamned pants. This day is going to be tough, for sure. And there were the lines just a few seconds ago. Right fucking there. Splendid, but I did make the decision to turn on the movie. My fault. The only other option right now is Molly and her fucking indescribable cuteness. I cannot hear a word she utters while cooking because my attention is glued to where her lines meet. Oh God, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes of... Way too cute for one human being. Jesus. I don’t know what the remainder of this day will hold for me aside from the standard desperation and obsessive gawking combined with a sprinkle of anger, but I have work to do anyway. Part of the garbage is done already. I need to do some organization in the garage before finalizing everything so the cans can be rolled out. I should take care of that stuff prior to the return of the rain, honestly. I’ll have to get off my rear pretty soon. I don’t like Sunday business dragging on. Pause. 1315. Almost game time. I took care of the garbage and showered. My head has been blown wide open by all of the imagery and memories, unfortunately. I will have to expend great effort to relax and watch the fucking football game. My level of anger has increased steadily from waking to this very moment, leading me to the idea of slamming the fucking garage with unpleasant music with the game only on video. I just don’t care right now. The debilitating thought regarding such a stance today is the idea that no matter how angry or frustrated I may become, nothing will fucking change. I will do whatever I feel and then come out the other side exactly the same. Isn’t that just a fucking peachy situation? Remember... Those people responsible for the root causes of my issues are fucking DEAD. 0819 on Monday morning, December the twelfth. Garbage trucks have been up and down the street for the last hour. Very nice. I don’t know what this day has in store, but I will state that being home in the quiet with my little comforts is just what I need right now. The last few days have caused more distress than I care to admit. I haven’t a clue as to what I can do about this, either. I’ve mentioned that there is anger just beneath the surface. It is not fading. Only the weather and my need to take care of the house have kept me from throwing a fit in the garage. Preoccupied with business, to the last. At least I’m not losing track of the work. The sum of all the above shit is not good. And there is much I cannot reveal here or I’ll be the target of some comments and judgments which are even worse than what I have already considered. This situation is placing so much strain on me that the little comforts have become more important than ever. I will need to embrace them today, for sure, lest my day head into the two-cocktail territory. That is a very dangerous situation which can lead to something much worse and is generally on a hair-trigger, for sure. Just a little touch and I tip over like a sleeping cow. Boom. That would be the end of that. So, this morning I will maintain pace here until this entry is complete, afterward moving on to the business of the day. Too much time spent in any one part of the morning will send me down the rabbit hole. I’ll have to move around. The last few days have made me very uncomfortable, pretty damned angry with myself (for a change), and I need to figure out a way to get the fuck out of this situation before everything is destroyed. I do not like looking back and finding myself dissatisfied with my own actions, no matter the source or level. Today will have to be the day of rising above my dissatisfaction and finding a path in some other direction. There is too much that I need to grade aside, and that means this is not the time to be connected to people. Strained. Pushed. But the worst? Going against my own convictions. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. I’ll have to pull back on the reins and try to find comfort for a while. 0944. Gangsters are gracing the television, including that fucking prime vision from the fourth season about whom I have written much. When I saw the vision yesterday, it actually increased after all these years. I always know when it will come along due to my familiarity with the series, yet each occasion still floors me. I can’t help it. You want to talk about dreaming of turning a person into a machine? Holy shit... The plans I’ve made. I have recently come to realize there is no other way. The sun is shining today. Cool air, though. Hopefully the wind doesn’t pick up or I’ll be freezing my baguettes off again. Yikes. I pulled the cans back up the driveway but have yet to do anything else. I may need to visit the market for a few items that will help upcoming dinners. Not the goddess market, the other one. I should probably fill the car with fuel, too. Other than that crap and my usual routine, I don’t have plans for the remainder of my hours alone. Well, some of this shit will be penned, like every day. Ooh-fa, this episode holds one of the worst events of the entire eighty-six hour series. I can’t stand it. One part of the sequence is not entirely necessary for advancing the story, and I believe that is the reason for my excessive disdain for the writing. The scene is a part of the overall arc, however. Just that one bit was completely unnecessary and it makes me angry that they went to such lengths for the sole purpose of manipulating the audience. I don’t have many issues with this program, yet here and there are very uncomfortable moments sprinkled in because they had carte blanche in creating the tale and the manner in which it was displayed. Is it realistic? I suppose. Gratuitous? Definitely. I must take the bad with the good if I am to follow along. Fact of life, and all that shit. I am considering removing the images of Lyndsy and replacing them with something else; not beauty, though. Abstract? Hmm. 'C'mon. Ease up, ease up.' And there went the sun. Crap. I was hoping the house would benefit from sunshine on the roof. Oh, well. The weather is beyond anyone’s control. Today I may be in the right mood to begin the big mural on the inside of my garage door. It is going to take much time and planning even for the outline. There may be enough paint left for the whole thing, too. Maybe I will take care of the routine and then move out there with my drink. I can close both doors and blast some cold music for a while, or at least until the temperature bites too much. I want to see it finished but do not need to be in a hurry. My mood continues to diminish, meaning something which allows me to flex my feelings could be helpful after a shitty morning. Lorraine’s blouse is a beautiful shade of red. Looks like silk, too. Her character is a psychiatrist so she can probably afford nice clothes. Heh. So much strain on my head and heart. It is nearly too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know how I made it this far without blowing up. I have those little bouts of anger which lead me to the garage, but afterward I am no different, nor do I feel any better about this period. My tirades lead nowhere at all, yet I still feel compelled at times to swing the hammer. I don’t know what it all means. I’ve been reading about common dream devices that many people experience and then wish to understand, and that has led me to reflect upon some of the more memorable moments I’ve experienced. I actually learned a few things, and dealing with anger is one of them, although it still has the power to take over my psyche and push me to lash out at the world. Fortunately, when I do exhibit such behavior, no one is affected but me. The whole thing is becoming stupid, really. Ugh... Here is the sequence to which I was referring. It is a pile of shit. Anyway, feeling the way I have since a few days ago means I will probably end up in the garage later with my tools and a scale drawing of the mural. Have pencil, will travel. Here I sit again at 1156. My usual stuff is finished and I am sans direction. Figures. I can’t move the clock backwards. The idea to work on the mural outline may be best. The sun is still shining. Hopefully, that means the garage will warm a bit. I don’t know what else to do. For whatever reason, when I am angry or upset in some way, heading into the garage and blasting music seems empowering somehow. Maybe it is having control over the material and volume. I don’t know, but I can work on the outline and hopefully feel a bit better. I need it right now. Everything else is gray like this font. Anger will take over very soon, I’m sure. Sitting here at noon trying to write about how I am feeling is fucking stupid. This is going to be the last entry I publish for a long time. There is no longer value in placing my thoughts on the Internet. I changed some of the images to other actors. 1629. I finished the outline of the mural and then moved back into the house. I’m going to make pasta sauce, meaning I need to start early so it can simmer for a while. Ashley is on the television looking tall and amazing, all huge eyes and gorgeous smile. The Christmas movies shall rule the roost for the remainder of this evening, good or bad. I would give everything except one eye to see Ashley’s lines. Ugh. Whatever. Basket case. Curious, she exhibits that squared jawline and I don’t care. It actually adds to the allure of her pretty face, whereas on others it seems too much. Mallory is the same and I don’t know why. Not a fucking clue. Now that I think about it, I believe Ashley the first also has a bit of a squared jawline. I will never figure this out. Today has not been good at all. Yes, I did housework and the outline, but the background continues to cut me to ribbons. Everything... From the lines to the issues to the future. Whatever I may be doing at a given moment seems fruitless, including the outline. I’ve wanted to draw that big mural for over a year, and now that it is finished I honestly couldn’t care less. Nothing blows up my skirt when the pressing issues remain. And they are pressing like never before. My brain is in a vise. Not one of those shitty, imported iron castings, either. I am talking about a precision machine vise. Billet steel. The genuine article. The jaws do a first-class job of crushing pretty much anything. Tuesday morning, just like the store. My early business is finished and I fully intend to sit here for the duration. Last night I had to watch two hours of Erin, and on the heels of daydreaming about her this morning, none other than Meghan is going to be on the screen in a little while. Tired of hearing about the Christmas movie actors? Just wait until a specific face is up there. I will go out of my mind. This endeavor may be completely worthless anymore, but at least it’s mine and I can spout whatever I feel (some of what I have spouted has been removed, however). Ownership can only be retreaded so much before even I don’t like it. I have to keep such a thought in mind all the time. For reasons of good form, I will do my best to avoid going on a long tirade about Meghan or anyone else for the remainder of this entry. Sometimes I tire of the words because they continue to resonate and then I fall down and can’t calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Not only does the gushing look bad here, but inside me it chews on my ability to get through the average day. Circumstances have shoved me into a small space within which there is no way to avoid desperate thinking. The weather is going to preclude me from doing any painting in the garage, sunshine or not. At least the outline is there. Better than nothing. I felt pretty good about creating the whole thing but now it doesn’t seem to matter at all. Perhaps I’ll look at it differently when it’s painted. Topic change... Dreams can be wishes or represent repressed urges. The damaging dreams seem to be both. I wish for that every day, nearly more than anything else. I still can’t believe the feelings that have grown so much in the last few months. The most recent strike against me was mere days ago and drove me fucking insane. In-fucking-sane may be a better way to put it. Either spelling is fine because nothing I can say here will get the point across. I become so focused upon that image sometimes that to be near the real thing is fucking painful as hell. My insides feel as if they are burning me alive during those moments and there is nothing I can say or do to make it go away. The passage of time is the only fading point, yet still the visions and wishes are right there at the ready every damned day. Sometimes I want her so bad that I can’t fucking function. Right now I seem to be fine, though. I am thankful for any day that the dreams don’t completely derail me and send my head straight to hell. Believe me, at this point in my life, nothing has more power over me. NOTHING. That is a mouthful considering everything I’ve said here for seven fucking years. Just believe it. Oh, and I can’t talk about it. Not a word. I am once again residing in the center of an impossible conundrum. In the beginning it felt like a dilemma, as in a solvable situation. Now? Impossible, right down to the ground. This just fucking sucks out loud. The very idea is above all things right now. All things. Think about that. As I’ve stated in the past, the entire situation came out of left field and was only brought to my attention through the first dream. It caught me upside the head and altered the manner in which I look at society, not to mention creating a mass of desire completely out of left field; likely the most desire to grasp at me in years. The only minuscule positive is that I have a touch of control over what takes place from here on in. That is very good. The alternative? Probably the worst possible circumstance imaginable. Believe it. Moving on... I need to do something else soon. The routine awaits, as does some laundry. The weather will once again restrict me to closing the doors if I decide to do any work in the garage. I could remain in the house, too. Or maybe I’ll put some gas in the car and roll over the hill to inquire about what a new desktop computer may cost with the specifications I need. The funny thing here is the train. Did you notice the word is not in the title anymore? Well, you never saw it anyway, so that doesn’t matter. The point is I was heading in one direction and then made several sharp turns only to end up with this mess. The dreams ruined my ability to maintain a line of thinking beyond a few minutes. I can't stop seeing her, nor can I cease dreaming about planting my lips and tongue to her... God help me. 1120 and the gangsters are still gracing my big television. I saved the ultimate Christmas movie this morning, meaning I can see Meghan whenever I wish. Another plus is losing the imagery as I cleaned the kitchen and reorganized the freezer (I don’t know what happens in there, but sometimes everything goes awry and the door won’t close properly). I feel that the situation inside my head has been eased a bit. Part of that could be the massive glass of whiskey that’s been following me for the last two hours. Ugh. What else can I do? I’ll be working all day tomorrow so more cash can be secured for the computer, meaning I need to have everything in order today, just in case. Thursday will be blissful after being out of the house during business hours. This is the time when I can think, although being busy with work may shove it all away for a while. I am anticipating seeing some things at the job because I’ve worked there in the past and am familiar with the homeowner. Those things may cause the damaging dreams to flare, unfortunately, and if so, the vision will return and I’ll become very distracted and almost completely worthless. I hope nothing goes bad. When I think of the dreams and what they held, my mind wanders into the reality that I am already too far gone to be a productive member of society. I am out of my mind. I believe tomorrow may present a problem, but I cannot say what it is or why. I was on that job some five years ago or more, meaning I am familiar with the area and the layout. The problem? I’ve already run into a bit of one before, and this time I can either let it devour me or try to get through the day and dash back home. Once I become preoccupied, though, there may be no getting around the problem. I guess I’ll wait and see. I don’t know if I can watch that movie now. Seeing her smile is very difficult and conjures all manner of impossibilities inside. The future, the present, and Christ knows what else will come to mind and shove me into a box again. The woman is one of the most striking examples of unique visage in human fucking history. Believe me when I say that I have searched for years. Maybe it’s best if the media just sits there on the device for the time being. I’ll have lots of trouble seeing her smile again. She reminds me of Juliette, Andrea, and I can’t even count the rest. Very tough to see that girl these days. Her face is a wonderland of love and everything else. Second only to Jamie. 1300 straight up and here I am again. One of the smiling faces has been absolutely plaguing me all morning. That face just kills me sometimes. Such a pleasant, caring smile, too. I switched from the gangsters back to one of the Christmas movie channels. I need some positivity right now, and the fifth season of the gangsters is not the way to find it. The one huge, glaring upside to these movies is they always end on a happy note. In addition, they are all rated ‘G’ for television, meaning the entertainment is wholesome. There is nothing wrong with that, especially with the world so fucked up these days. Danica is in this one, so no worries. She’s more like a sister than anything else. 0600, Wednesday morning. Very cool outside so far today. The weather was the same last night, yet I was being kept warm by thoughts of the woman on the television for two hours. I can’t even say what had been going through my head. I’ve said it, but not again. Jesus. Two hours. There were moments when I thought I would finally lose the rest of my mind. The woman is a list of features all rolled up and stunningly unique. Unreal, honestly. Sometimes she appears artificial. I should not have volunteered to work today. I changed my mind yesterday but still committed to the one-day job. I even made lunch for us. But now? I wish I hadn’t. Not lunch, the work. This day is going to be more difficult due to last night’s dreaming while awake. I’ve already pointed out a potential problem over there, too. The free time today would have been nice. On the other hand, every time I arrive home after working, there is a good feeling, as in secure and comforting. That will happen later today, plus I will have the rest of the week and beyond to reflect upon everything. This is a bad time, let me tell you. Last night was plenty difficult enough for a week all crammed into two hours. Once again I am on the cusp of saying something that I shouldn’t. I have less than an hour before I need to leave. Maybe afterward I will find enough distraction to keep my head up after returning home. Right now, I really can’t say what will happen, nor can I stop seeing her smile from last night. Two hours after making the decision to watch that movie, I realized that the memory of seeing her on the screen for the last few years has made more of an impact than originally thought. She has a vast amount of power over me yet nothing whatsoever to do with my life. Wonderful. Just... Peachy. Her smile is in my brain at this very moment and the thoughts may soon drive me insane. Damn. I would love to remain home and alone in the quiet all day. What a mistake. I need some time to reflect on all this shit. Lots of time. Well, it’s only one day. I can make it through and then come out the other side better off. I never realized Taylor is five-nine. Wow. I went goo-ga over Brooke, too, and she is the same height. Not surprising, I guess. Maybe at some point I turned into a height-whore. 0802, Thursday morning after the early business. I am overjoyed to be home right now, especially after needing my comfort so badly yesterday and then running out the door. I knew in advance that this morning would be very rewarding and that thought kept me going yesterday during work. Plus? I’ll have a little cash in the pocket soon. The work actually pays pretty well. And the issue with which I thought I would have to contend was not present. I spoke to the client for a little bit because she recalled years ago when the same group remodeled her master bath. The situation back then was very sad, however. There had been a loss in her family which resonates right into the present. I am always nice to her. Thankfully, the problem I suspected never materialized. Upon returning home in the afternoon, I was so happy to get into my little routine and then relax for a while before dinner. And now a change. One change, but it is plenty difficult. I should not have been hurt or concerned at the time, yet the feelings took over within seconds. Hours later? I still heard the words bouncing back and forth between my ears. The inside of my head had engaged in a massive manufacturing routine in which my entire being became slowly buried under piles of difficulties stemming from buildings filled with memories and regrets. I felt the acute pain and then moved along through the day with the weight of my own troubles sitting on top of my head. And it continues to this very second. I believe the words were uttered last year or possibly a bit further back, yet I can still hear them and see the expression as I sit on this sofa. That moment continues to cut me and relate to anything I am trying to watch on the television. There seems to be nothing I can do about it. And then something else... Something unexpected, but no matter how much I try to rationalize and consider the nature of such a subjective topic, my head fails. I can’t do anything about it and the subject is going to remain right behind my eyes for the rest of my days. This is unchangeable, and as such, it forces me to realize that my desires in life are going to either fall on deaf ears or disappear entirely. This is a very bad situation and unlike anything with which I’ve had to contend in the past. Plus? I didn’t fucking cause this. Some very insensitive people unleashed their waves of shit and scarred me on the inside. I wish I had some fucking power. I can’t stop thinking about the subject or get it out of my head. Those moments when I am feeling most vulnerable are when the memories attack and I look on with a combination of disdain and fear, leaving me with the icy knowledge that a very big part of my life is over. No matter where I look or what I may be doing at a given time, the dragon will raise its mighty head and burn me alive. From eleven years ago to more recently, and from a tiny sting to a massive explosion, I am seeing the black future of a person who can no longer connect with others. I never should have placed myself in two of those situations. After a very short time, I knew where they were heading. Very early, that thought. Some conversation seemed to help, but I can never truly know of the processes at work inside, especially when topics end up surfacing through sheer weakness. The cuts don’t heal. All they accomplish is to greatly exacerbate the issue and push my mental state into a place of hiding. The moments of comfort end up shadowed by dark clouds. They still take place, yet the overpowering nature of the cuts disallow true comfort, even for short periods. Well, fuck me. That is all gone now, anyway. My new path is to do nothing more than sit here and fucking think about everything over and over. I can’t DO anything. I thought the circumstances of two shit situations from the past were all I had to plow in this life. Right now I am well into a third. More anger, more strain, more of everything negative. No power. Only strain. I’ve been strained to the point of breaking in half. There is nothing I can do except sit here and think about it over and over; miserable, darkened thoughts that leave me unhappy, frightened, and full of hatred. I don’t see improvement on the horizon, nor can I find a way around this shit. The smiling face is going to kill me and I don’t even know her. 0927. The routine will not take long today. 0629 on Friday morning. My Thursday was waylaid by the need to return to the job from the day before. Something went wrong with one of the shower valves and I had to go help. That was right in the center of my comfortable time, too. I went and fixed it and then returned without going anywhere else. At least the car is full of gas now, so maybe I can go out shopping later. I don’t know. This morning will be spent almost entirely in front of the computer, though. I need some time to organize my thoughts and deal with something I had hoped would not come along... Another damaging dream with a smiling face. Yep. Laura Osnes on the television this morning. She is so lovely. The dream? Something entirely different. The smile grabbed me immediately and did not let go until I awakened. And then? My head manufactured a few impossible scenarios which I can still see right now. The smile was too much and led me to believe that everything was going to be ok. No bra strap, no bicycle, nor anything from the other dreams. This one was just two individuals, one of which is driving me insane lately. I definitely need to figure out a few things today. Those dreams have me creating thoughts that I can never discuss with anyone, plus my head conjures images that soon derail whatever I may be attempting to do on a given day. Today may be ideal for fleshing out the situation. I have coffee and quiet, Christmas movies and gangsters. I had been trying to work on this crap yesterday, but as I said, dashing out the door pretty much goofed up my quiet time. I was only gone less than two hours, yet in that time my flow of thinking was disrupted enough for me to lose my way completely. I need to get back into the process later this morning and embrace the solitude for a while. I keep seeing the smile over and over and it’s driving me crazy because nothing can ever come of it. She is not even a machine. Just a person. Wow, sometimes Laura is stunning. Her skin alone is worth the price of admission. God damn would I love to... The prospect of having this entire day to myself is wonderful right now. I need it. Pause for the cause. 0809 and I have the morning business finished and the day to myself. I still don’t know what to do, but the space to think is critical right now so I don’t lose my mind. Sometimes I want her so bad that there is nothing with the power to distract me from the vision of her all over me, smiling and gorgeous. This morning I can see those visions, too, meaning I’ll have to push hard to get myself on track very soon. Going out the door for a while may help. Or maybe nothing will. She is in there pretty fucking deep right now. Since I don’t need any more of that shit this morning, I switched the programming on the television. The title needs to change again... Done. 1636 and I have no idea what became of this day. I took care of the usual stuff and went to the store. Otherwise, not much. I am in a rut and could not avoid such a feeling earlier, hence sitting here now after being encapsulated in sadness rather than looking forward to the evening and some nice dinner. Faces in my dreams, faces on the television, and faces out there in society, some right close and others at a distance. Visage all down the page, too. I don’t know what all this means, but it gripped me earlier and would not let go. I believe that whatever seemed to be wrong for several years is actually much worse than I had thought. Sunday morning with coffee and a Christmas movie. This is the one with Mallory and her incredible pencil skirt. Damn. Yesterday seemed to fly by, maybe due to three football games in a row along with my usual work. I don’t know. I was daydreaming on and off throughout the routine and afterward. Thankfully, when we went to the restaurant nothing became a problem. Everything showed up this morning. I keep thinking about ceasing this work on the site, too. I’ll have to decide whether or not I feel that maintaining a journal is worth my time. There will always be something to say. I also have to figure out this squared-jaw thing. I pretty much summed everything yesterday but felt that an epilogue of sorts might help. According to the analytics, there have been less than ten visitors here between the last two weeks of November and three days ago. This is not conducive to my feeling that the effort is worthwhile. For myself, the words are fine. Yes, I retread all sorts of shit all the time and repeat myself almost verbatim several times per week, but still the questions plague me enough to continue asking. I just don’t feel that anyone else should be a part of whatever fucking processes I am going through, good or bad. My time is not spent here for other people, period. I have the usual stuff to do today and the garbage. I’ll have some hours alone, too. That will be nice. I was horribly preoccupied for much of yesterday and do not wish to repeat it, although to date I have not been able to easily push the dreams out of my head and move in some other direction. Maybe watching Mallory right now is a bad idea, too. She will only push desire-filled imagery into my head and lead back to what happened yesterday. Black pants? Yep... Black fucking pants. Everything is on display, hence my troubling mindset. I need to lick those pants, and that thought is nothing compared to the mass of feelings in my head right now. Long essay. Not much said here, but lots of lines and words. I don’t know why I did not break this up into smaller parts. Eh... Who cares? I probably haven’t said much of anything, anyway. I don’t know what I am doing here these days. Talking about things does not make them go away. That is something I learned a very long time ago and it still holds true to this very second. I have much experience in trying to express myself to another person and listen to coping methods and strategies along with ideas regarding the origin of some negative feelings toward myself as well as other people. I will not head in such a direction any longer. None of that shit is worth it, believe me. I already know I’ll be in a worse condition coming out the other side. This keyboard is the only listener in my future. Well, the new keyboard in the office, too. No people. I cannot begin to count the number of references here regarding my abandoning this endeavor. I really can’t. Oh, I could run a detailed search, but would it make any difference? Nope. Nothing will. This process used to be very sparse; the entries barely numbered in the teens for some years. Now I write every day and feel worse than I did when the site changed direction in fifteen. Could this have had a hand in my downfall? Continually describing such vast beauty? And all those days of typing descriptions of my activities? What did that accomplish? I will rest my case very soon. The problems have mounted for too long. There are three on the television right now. One face and two of something else. A pair, if you will. They remind me of the first and third damaging dreams. A face accompanied one of them. Everything I place here spins circles inside my head and I become desperate to see more. The Christmas movies are probably the biggest catalyst of them all, too. But I keep watching, searching, staring. Why? I don’t know, but one certainty is the idea that continuing to describe what I see and feel on this site will not do anyone any good. None of it. I’m quite sure that my modus operandi is well known by now. No good is coming of this work, nor did it ever. This entire entry has been a waste of time and effort. I am much worse off inside than when it began some weeks ago, and for years I have known that the work is futile. I keep seeing impossible situations, yearning for the past, searching for a savior, dreaming of images I should be avoiding, and then sitting here complaining about all of it. Nothing is going to change. I will not find someone on the side of the road or in a grocery store. No one will darken my doorstep. I cannot stop dreams. The damage has already been done. The time has come for me to tighten my grip on everything which can invite more issues, and this process is at the top of the list. What a fucking galactic waste of time. I will never reveal the correlation that took place weeks ago, nor will I speak either name. The worst of it? Knowing 'her'. I am wracked by her visage."
December 18th, 2022 8:09am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Wracked Visage; Lined Hell
'The Absent Train'
read ( words)
"Don a fucking helmet again and get ready to say goodbye. 0609 on Wednesday morning. Yesterday certainly flew by. I never mentioned the full extent of the event from the afternoon stop. The focus had to be shifted quickly or I would have lost my way and not completed anything at home. I can’t let that happen. The fact that I am so weak should not affect the routine, although what took place when I looked at her beautiful eyes was so unexpected that I was halted for a time. It is THAT important. Right down the street from me resides a woman above all things in the world. I stood not two feet in front of her and saw a smile. Seconds later, two of life’s tumblers fell into alignment and hit my brain like a wrecking ball. I realized why she became so important to me, and that reason is not her resemblance to the darkest of beauty, otherwise known as the Raven. Maintaining my composure as the four of us spoke about the job was one of the most difficult tasks in memory. Going to work today now appears simplistic and meaningless. I would like to earn additional cash for the holidays, nothing more. 1636. Lines on the job site. Lines. LINES, for Christ’s sake. The designer came to the house to go over some details with the general. For an hour I saw her move about the rooms in her yoga pants and watched long, flowing, beautiful hair swirl around in the breeze. Damn it. I had to walk past her several times for material and tools, all the while averting my eyes in order to remain professional while working. Well, no craning of the neck or sneaking peeks were necessary because she was all over the house; at one point facing directly away and standing as if to inflame the obsession. After yesterday afternoon, I honestly did not need anything else clogging up my thought processes. She was there nonetheless; looking like a soft, warm dream in painted pants. Such attire may not be a good idea on a construction site. Right now I need to let go of her lines and move the content along as best I can. Such a strain on my senses. I believe I know who ‘she’ is. ‘Her’. There is a horrible, crippling fact attached to knowing, as well. I don’t even want to get into that shit. The idea makes my heartache amplify to the nth degree. Many occasions have found me stating that I have never been in worse shape. I have to say it again right now. Believe me, this fucking situation dates back to before ‘The Failing Fantasy and Alexis’. That entry was a turning point, for sure, but right now I cannot imagine feeling more empty and disconcerted at any time in my life. Weak. Desperate. Full of pain. I see no positives here. Nothing good. I suspect that the connection to ‘her’ and my fall yesterday have finally proven that the intentions of eleven are the only way. Intentions are not actions, but actions will suffice. The eyes have it. I saw them but did not complete the equation until a while later. This is now 0605 on Thursday, a solid day and a half since standing before her most beautiful of faces, and I still feel that everything I tried to describe was not enough. I know. I know who ‘she’ is. This is going to change a few aspects of my life. The terrible fact of ‘her’ existence in reality continues to plague me, too. I can’t get her face out of my head. Earlier this morning was a dream, as if there was not enough going on inside my brain already. A girl with me at an old company from the nineties; the one I dealt with almost daily for nearly three years. I spoke with her during some address from management to which no one seemed to be listening, and began to reminisce about the president of the company during that period. Ok, she may not be ‘her’, but I can’t know who she is without asking about ‘her’, and that may be impossible. Make sense? Nope. The problem is ‘her’ may be inside her. She might actually be ‘her’, and if this is true, the search is over, as is my life. There you go. And I still have not gone into detail regarding this unreal discovery the other day. You’ll just have to wait; possibly forever. I don’t care. My head is more fucked up than ever. She is not the only problem, either. Shit is beginning to pile up high enough to produce a line of thinking that no one is going to like. I have lost too much for each day to be comfortable, and I need too much to believe that there can be understanding in the future. Those two alone should be enough to drive me into the ground. For some reason I am still sitting here doing the same thing. If she is ‘her’, I’m going to lose my shit. If this year’s development (I’ve mentioned it enough already) continues to elude my vision, I’m going to lose my shit. If the next year begins as this one did, I’m going to lose my shit. Between those three fucking craphole issues, it’s a pretty good bet that the shit-losing is guaranteed. Only a matter of time, believe me. 1646, same day. I worked again today and will return to the same job tomorrow. The cash is tumbling in and will enable all manner of nutcase purchases for the holidays. Today was both good and bad, the good unable to outweigh two visions. Yep, and I am not speaking of the designer (who was there again in yoga pants of a different color). I am referring to lunch time when I sat in the driveway and watched two girls – and I mean GIRLS – who pulled up to clean the house across the street. Let’s see... Yoga pants, flowing black hair, lines on display, and my head coming apart, especially considering the very difficult morning prior to leaving the house. I stared to my heart’s content and then returned to the house for the afternoon work. I had to repeatedly measure lengths of pipe and consider the ramifications of different copper fittings and isolation straps due to dreaming of seeing both of those girls in a number of poses solely for my visual and deviant benefit. Let us recap. I spoke of being hit in the face by a woman who now appears to be ‘her’. That was bad. I have known her for many years. Standing next to her two days ago and speaking in person was a fucking dream come true. I never forgot her, either. Ever since seeing that woman sitting at the bar some years ago when she asked if I remembered her face, I’ve been pretty well smitten. That day was key, as well, because I stated that I could not possibly forget her due to the resemblance to someone I loved. She was taken aback, believe me. Her facial expression and eyes told the whole truth. Now pile atop the incident with the second fucking slap by the designer at the job yesterday. My eyes came right the fuck out of my already-strained head. I took in more information during the course of minutes than anyone may believe. The afternoon left me floored and hurt, deeply depressed and at the outset of some pretty bad fucking anger. Now throw in those two visions across the street today, sprinkle in the problem which arose early this year and the image is complete. Wrecked. Less and less of me wishes to continue living. Friday morning, early. I’ll be leaving in less than an hour. This marks the first time in more than two and a half years that I’ve worked five days in the same week. Unbelievable. This week is not the norm, either. It’s just that one big job with which I wanted to help, plus the cash in my pocket. The resemblance is incredible. Never before has something like this taken place. Never. The Raven was bad enough when it comes to those dark features, for sure. She carried more than I can possibly describe here. I stared at that woman so much that I thought She would take issue with my attention. The resemblance I saw the other day will not leave my head lately. I keep making references back to different moments that went by in the last few years, yet the more I think about those key images, the more I see them reflected in the woman from earlier this week. And? This is not going to make sense to anyone but me because there are no fucking names or other identifiers to assist. I can’t get her face out of my head. Saturday morning, finally. The week moved along very quickly, yet the work has me very tired now. I’ll have to think about how much I want to work heading into next month. The money is nice, though. Time will tell, I suppose. Her face has been behind my eyes since Tuesday. The correlation is incredible and amazing and I still hesitate to state the reality of the situation. I mentioned the horrible aspect of this. After thinking about ‘her’ all week since the face, I cannot deny that aspect is killing me inside. There are two words involved of which I am not at all fond. Part of me is dying to tell her what her face and eyes mean to me, while the other part wishes to avoid seeing her again, ever. Her. Possibly ‘her’. This is not a joke. I am dying to stare again. The relationship between her eye sockets, nose, and mouth are a near-ideal match. Unbelievable. I have to stare and watch her eyes change as she speaks. I want to photograph her face and keep it for all time. There is really nothing I can do about this, either. I am simply gushing my feelings for the way she resembles another and the fact that I stood there and looked at her without the realization slapping me in the face right away. It took a little while before I equated that little nose to the real thing, after which I knew what had happened. The time is now 0820 and she is commanding my attention from afar. This is crazy. Another fucked up fact is the whole thing probably has not sunk in completely, believe it or not. I’ll most likely worsen soon. Ok... Today. I have to drive over the hill this morning for a few items and then return to the routine. The past week has forced me to care for things in the afternoon as opposed to my typical morning home schedule. I don’t like it much, but again... Lots of cash coming. Between today and tomorrow I can catch up with everything in anticipation of the holiday next week. Heading over to those stores when they open is a good idea after an entire week full of fucking yoga pants. I don’t want to see anything else since the slam of the designer and the girls across the street not long after. That was just too fucking much for my weakened and desperate stance in life. Don’t even get me started on the other one. I already have deep feelings for her. ‘Her’? I am pretty damned certain. Ugh. 1834. This has been a long but productive day. I did take a trip to the pet and wine stores, both destinations being uneventful, thankfully. The previous paragraph outlined the trouble already inside my head. Upon returning home, I took care of the latent routine and a few other things to ease my mind after being away from the house most of the week. I really don’t like things getting too far askew before I have the opportunity to straighten everything to my satisfaction. We spent the late afternoon at a birthday, family only. That was relaxing. Now the evening is in full swing and I have zero responsibilities until my Sunday business that, after today, appears very comfortable. For a little while I was busy enough to forget everything. The trouble hath returned, however. Cocktail time. The end of the rainbow is causing pain and I don’t even know if it is real. Ninety percent, though. She. ‘Her’. The eyes, nose, mouth and remaining facial structure are driving me up the wall and I STILL haven’t stated the reason. I can’t right now. I just can’t. I need to see her but there is nothing I can do right now. Not a fucking thing. She is over there and I am over here, and in the grand scheme of the world, the connection is too thin to exploit or even consider right now. I’ve gone through holy hell in the past for positioning myself near to something special – and on occasion actually succeeded – only to be dropped from on high and left in an even worse frame of mind. I need more of that like I need a tax audit. The fact that there even exists a connection is amazing when one considers the idea of her being such a fucking match to the dream of a lifetime. I am not kidding, either. The thread may be thin, but it is there nonetheless. Sunday morning. Coffee, second show, cats fed, dead head. A head. Ahead? All red. All read. Dread. 0719. I added an image of Maja here because she is so pretty and her lips could be the second coming of Christ. The woman is gorgeous, honestly. I thought her face might make this entry look a bit better (until the content is read by someone, that is). I have included her on the site before. Enjoy. She is the only good thing about this shit. Today is Sunday and I have my business awaiting the clock’s advancement. Some work in the garage, laundry, and the typical garbage stuff will be on tap once the sun is a bit warmer. This day is already appearing better than the last, and not just because we went elsewhere for dinner. It’s everything. Difficult to describe. Anyway, the positive nature of the day’s outlook cannot offset the imagery in my brain or the correlation I noticed days ago. The truth is I am trying to calculate a way to speak with her again. All I need is a moment. Of course, this may never come to pass. In fact, as I sit here right now, I see a less than one percent chance that anything I want or need regarding that woman will ever be possible. The whole fucking shitaree is very sad, honestly. I feel the strongest pull from her face. I need to stare and express to her just what the staring actually means. I need to tell her that she is above all other things in the universe and the very definition of destiny. And no, nothing like what you are likely thinking. Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Leave all that physical shit on the side of the highway and set the throttle on WFO. Leave it alone. My needs regarding the most beautiful example of a woman are all centered upon a few features and nothing more. The equation I put together days ago while at home has birthed so many damned feelings that I can’t even begin to understand, but at the same time I know what I have to do in order to reconcile myself with the connection. I stood there and saw destiny. Unfortunately, I am not to be involved in such a thing. My role is to fulfill one need and tell her what it means, and then likely watch myself fade into nonexistence. Or, the end may also be nothing more than the derealization becoming so deep that I no longer interact with people. I don’t care, but I will miss ‘her’. Actually, I miss ‘her’ right now and I barely know her. I believe she is ‘her’, but she is not going to save me. She cannot. The situation is not so easily resolved. There are problems I have not revealed here and probably never will, and to consider the fact that she is a person with feelings and not in need of anyone gushing a ton of superlatives with tears in their eyes, the calculations through which I am trying to run seem futile. I still have to do it, though. Compulsion has been redefined. There is no end to it. 1000 straight up. The subject of that fucking damaging dream floated back into my head this morning and drove me right up the wall. I could NOT get her out of my head, leading to the decision to push toward work, lest I lose my fucking mind. I can’t have that right now. She is trying to weave those lovely eyes (and breasts) through my brain like a tapestry of desire. God damn do I ever want to devour her. This is fucked, yet again. The day must move along, though. I can’t have her derailing my precious Sunday schedule, not to mention putting the kibosh to my desire to watch a hell of a game in about three hours. And? For reasons of good form, I have a nice, fat orange/white Russian sitting to my right as I type these words. That girl is going to drive me insane I tell you. In-fucking-sane. Obviously, I can’t place my thoughts about her on the site. I’d be labeled worse than I already have. Very bad, that shit. Believe me... Everything has gone through my brain like a freight train loaded with physical acts. This is so very bad. Maybe the booze will calm my need to...
Those fucking breasts drive me nuts. Ugh. The bra strap and her slender fingers... Holy Jesus shit God damn fucking hell in a soft thong do I want her. This fucking condition is DEBILITATING. I'm going to flip the fuck out in a little while. Little? No... That warm pair of breasts is anything but little. Shoot me. I don't fucking care anymore. I've been fucking driven to this state... Driven by those who would strain my life and enjoy the process. They have already succeeded. Someone stop this shit, please. Nope. JESUS FUCKING HAROLD CHRIST ON A RUBBER CRUTCH DO I WANT THAT GIRL. This may be a good day to swing the fucking hammer. I have lots to do in the garage between laundry and general straightening, although the afternoon game is going to get in the way of my mood. One option is to have the game on the television but without sound. Holy shit... This woman in the commercial... God help me. Anyway, ah, fuck. Another one. Jesus! I am a basket case. I think my best plan is to care for as much in the house as possible for the next couple of hours and then head to the garage to blast the neighborhood with unpleasant, unfeeling music while I watch the game and work on organization and laundry. I’m in the perfect mood for a storm. The sun has been shining all morning and the outdoor spaces are warming quickly. Everything could come together by kickoff, effectively blazing a trail into the nether regions of my shitty attitude. Nice. All I have to do is get the breasts out of my brain. Tall order. I desperately need to... 1040. I am working tomorrow and Tuesday. The money is very nice and my physical ability to keep moving all day long has benefited from the laborious plumbing. This is a good thing, especially considering I only need work when I want. I could not have imagined this situation two years ago. Sometimes I think days like this should be centering my head and helping me to focus upon the positives. I thought about them last night when my head hit the pillow. FUCK. I need parts of her body in my fucking MOUTH right now. Stop it, dipshit. Just fucking stop. Focus upon the positives for crying out loud. She. ‘She’ is ‘her’. Oh, God. I spoke to her. I spoke to ‘her’. I saw the resemblance and lost my mind. Those eyes... For the love of Christ... I want her to KNOW. I have to tell her. ‘Her’. Oh, boy. A girl on the Indianapolis sideline. Pants, hair, eyes. Maybe I need to be institutionalized. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Does she know how beautiful she is? The cheerleaders don’t cut the fucking mustard anymore. Heh. Well, some do, but they are rarely centered in the frame. Eh... Fuck that. Go and research the pro cheerleaders and read about how underpaid and difficult their roles have become. I look at them and realize that the sport is STILL very sexist after all this time. Am I sexist? In a manner of speaking, yes. I am of one sex, meaning the opposite can be attractive. Do I objectify? Sometimes, but please understand that the last four-plus decades have been aslant due to the actions of others, and the trailing decade has been wrought with insensitivity and apathy. I am sitting on this fucking sofa at this very fucking moment in pain because of said apathy. For the billionth fucking time, I am a product of time and circumstance. AT LEAST I KNOW IT, people. I am a good person. Sally Kellerman said something which puts the whole subject into perspective for both males and females. She said, ‘Being viewed as a sex object is not a negative, provided it is not the only way a person is viewed’. This entire paragraph is really fucking screwed, but not all my fault. That quote may not have been Sally. I don't remember. 1544. Nearly all of my business is complete and I effectively calmed the demons for the time being. The early game went to shit, the second game followed suit, but the Lions won in the east, so all is not lost. The most important game is tomorrow night. I am hoping to avoid another tirade about ‘her’. 0633 on Monday morning. I was going to work today and tomorrow but the night was very bad. I have cold symptoms, meaning I can’t be near other people. I am home for the duration. Second show and coffee. I dreamed this morning, however the subject escapes me. It may have been related to the science fiction on my television last night. ‘She’ will not be a part of anything I need. She cannot, and for reasons I will not reveal here. Just understand that there are forces at work over which I have zero control. The entire realization must move in another direction now. I have to think. Sitting across the table from her – a la the Phase Lock girl on that fateful morning – is a dream larger than the Passion, believe it or not. I want to have a conversation and tell her the story of how this all came about. Should that actually take place in reality, the next step would be a portrait. Yes, a photograph. It would sit side-by-side with the other one for comparison and my subsequent daydreaming for the rest of my life. I want to talk with her so bad that it’s eating me from the inside out. There has to be a way to do this without causing any problems. There is also plenty of time. I have zero expectations that I can meet with her and speak, though. The whole shitaree feels too far-fetched, most likely due to my penchant for dreaming of impossibilities. Honestly, I should be overjoyed to have merely spoken for a few minutes in person. Well, I am, but the day is fading into history and I fucking need more of her near me. Nothing like what I have tried to describe here, however. Just words. The repair just ain’t gonna fucking happen. She will never know of the past, only the resemblance. I don’t believe unloading all my shit to another person is fair at all. Even though my greatest need is the ability to severely ‘lean’ on a beautiful woman, in reality I just could not get myself to do such a thing without permission, and the odds of that happening are beyond stratospheric. I can’t risk pushing because I already know of the consequences. I’ve pushed plenty in the past. One certainty from my years of observing behavior is the women I have known did not find a lack of confidence in a male attractive. Not at all. And here I sit as a fucking basket case and about as far off balance as a person can be. As I have recently mused, I cannot be good for anyone. Not even close. If I am able to speak with her sometime in the future, care must be taken to avoid going too far. That will be tough, to say the least. The slam to my head due to the resemblance may force me to become desperate (not a long fucking trip at all) and go just far enough beyond the norm that she could react badly. I can’t have that. I did ok with the Phase Lock girl so many years ago, although that discussion centered upon beauty. This is actually far deeper. Within five seconds of her answering the door, my heart exploded all over the place and I had to rein in the feelings. Not easy. Don’t even get me started on what I felt when she addressed me from two feet away. Maybe nothing will ever happen and I’ll be left sitting here wondering, just like always. What a splendid thought. I never thought I’d see something like that right before my eyes. I didn’t remember, either. I just didn’t remember. Details faded and then slammed me back in microseconds when I saw her eyes. And then the nose. Holy shit. I have to get away from this subject. Wow, do I ever feel like crap. Chills are never fun. I believe the drink choices for today will be hot tea and water. Coffee does not taste as good as it usually does. I am glad the option to remain home is always available, though. I am technically just helping, so I can set the schedule (more or less. There are still commitments) Maybe the work days down the peninsula last week during cold mornings caught up with me. I don’t know. There is an upside, however. This type of condition pushes away all of the fucking desire. Gone. The previous paragraph was written more than two days ago. This is now Wednesday, meaning I basically lost two days. They are gone entirely with nothing to show. I’ve been bundled up and on a virus diet. Yes, that one. I don’t know how, but I caught it at some point and was down for a time. Honestly, the symptoms were not too bad compared to what I’ve heard of others. Anyway, I feel quite a bit better this morning. Maybe the day will be normal. The biggest issue with that condition seems to be the fever. Mine was knocked down in a matter of hours. Not bad. This is the first time I did not write over the course of so much time. 0717. Between the work last week and being so under the weather so far this week, my house and garage time has felt alien. Everything has been closed up. I really need to get back to normal so I can take care of business around here. I don’t like the feeling of being behind schedule or letting things get out of hand. I feel as if everything is messed up right now. Let’s just call it a lack of control. I’ll get it back soon. Of all the aspects I love about being home, maintaining control over my atmosphere is near to the top of the list. I need what I enjoyed prior to going to work last week. Moreover, the fact that the work began to head toward full-time again pushed me to take the rest of the year for myself. I was in bed for ten hours but did not sleep very much. I couldn’t quiet my head for some reason. ‘She’ was swirling inside, along with being behind with my usual chores around the house. Work also floated through my head. I don’t know why so many different topics continued to flip along during the night, but I believe they were most of the reason for my lack of sleep. My head is fairly clear this morning, though. It is a situation I’ve not enjoyed since late Sunday. Monday and Tuesday were so messed up that I couldn’t calculate anything. Everything troubling my mind for the last several weeks has been dormant since Monday. When I can’t function, nothing else takes priority. I have to care for myself and let it all go. I did just that and now feel much better, yet none of the bad stuff has returned. The first two days of this week were exacerbated by my reckless behavior on Sunday, too. I’ll take the blame for that one, although the arrival of virus symptoms was not up to me. Maybe if I had been in better shape prior to becoming sick, the depth could have been minimized. This situation is going to change my behavior, trust me. I’ve been slapped in the face with my own complacency. 0629 on Thanksgiving. Remember ‘Holiday’? The topic has been permeating my head since last night. ‘Holiday’ even usurped ‘her’ for a while. Well, that and the virus. This is going to be a tough day. I am feeling better physically with each passing hour, meaning whatever else may be taking place in my head can be offset with the fact that my health is improving, plus the crisp air may benefit my condition as I work around the house. I have to care for some things that have gone by the wayside because they are beginning to irritate me. I have not completed my usual daily routine since Sunday last. Not good. My little world must be in full order by close of business today. I don’t know how to return to the other subject. I’ve been out of sorts and fairly sideways since Sunday night, meaning everything which had been prioritized inside my head has fallen away for a time and I don’t know how to get the feelings back. Believe me, I’d rather forget some of them and never address such topics again, but I must be myself above all things. She will return here soon enough, as will the remaining shit I’ve been forced to plow. My twin monitors arrived yesterday, representing the first fruit of my labor for the last couple of weeks. The only component I need to acquire for the desktop system is the computer itself. Maybe sometime soon I can travel over the hill and consult. The machine must have one specific feature, meaning I need to address some people in order to determine the best choice. Everything else is in place right now. I am looking forward to setting up in the old office once again, and after nearly three years. I guess the new office is not as such any longer. It is the empire, for whatever that may be worth. 0754. No coffee this morning. I have not had coffee since Monday morning and it did not last long. Tea has been the choice, along with gallons of water. I have the second show on the big television screen, although I may switch to the holiday movies very soon to help me consider tree preparations. I’m certain there will be trouble within said movies and I don’t care. Football does not kick off for nearly two hours. I would like to watch at least one entire game today. Wow. What a Thanksgiving. I am feeling tons better than the peak on Monday, yet still there is a cloud over this day due to the past, the glow, and so many changes in life throughout the decades. The time is 1334, I have completed some chores and have a load of laundry in the washer. Very exciting. What did Edward say with so much sarcasm and a disgusted facial expression? ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ I cannot disagree. I can’t even swing the fucking hammer today. Moreover, my neighbor is having a bunch of people over for a turkey day shindig, complete with the grill and smoker on the driveway. I can’t even go over there and wish them a happy holiday. This is rather shitty. The major plus is that I am home for the rest of the year, if not beyond. I am fairly certain that my visit to the bar last Friday after work was the catalyst for this messed up week. Whatever. I am better thanks to the vaccinations. Perhaps I should remain mindful of how much worse this time could be. I should also count my lucky stars that the emotional turmoil which has recently increased ten-fold (if not more) all but disappeared when my health was called into question. I guess my brain can only process one at a time. Everything will return and hurt me soon enough. The weather is very warm, meaning I could be doing all manner of things around the house, yet once I am up and about for a few minutes, the muscle aches and fatigue set in pretty quickly. I have to be careful. Friday morning. Bethany is my first choice for a Christmas movie this year, and what a sight. All dark, yoga pants, unique lips... I’ve gone through some feelings for her appearance before. No coffee has been brewed since Monday and I don’t miss it all that much. Mint tea has always calmed me when necessary, and the last few days have been no different. Holy shit... I was seeing Torrey, not Bethany. I kept switching back and forth between two channels to figure out which movie to watch and thought Bethany was in both of them. As it turns out, the two actors resemble each other quite a bit and had me confused for a time. Was I this mixed up last year while gushing? Damn, do they ever look alike sometimes. I guess I never ran across both of them at the same time on different channels. Looks like it’s going to be a long holiday season. Anyway, I did what I could yesterday and rested often. The kitchen worked out well, plus I was able to make some soup. I also installed the ESC in the drone and now simply need to solder the leads and then test.
Torrey’s rear end is larger than last year. I can understand that. I put on all kinds of weight during the past eighteen months. Heh. She is on the television, whereas I am nobody. And the face is key, anyway. Lines are one thing, eyes are another. Second mug of tea, nice and hot. The weather today may mirror yesterday, meaning if I am feeling up to it I can continue with the catch-up work and break out some Christmas decorations and tree stuff. The solder work on the drone is a quick deal, too. I have a head start on everything today thanks to feeling a bit more energetic yesterday. Onward and upward, and still no difficulty related to ‘her’ or the obsession. Yes, the actors on these channels starring in holiday movies are going to generate all manner of thoughts, yet deep inside I am more concerned with my health and recovery right now. Everything will return in force, guaranteed. I can wait. 0725 on Saturday morning. I’ve been feeling a little better each day. Christmas movies are going to be dominating the television for a little whale until the game starts, and then I’ll work on my usual stuff. Yesterday we put up the tree and lights, meaning today will be the fun part with all of the decorations. There was an inkling just now as I heated water for tea... A feeling I’ve not had in some days. Looks like I was correct yesterday. Everything is returning and this morning is the beginning. Storm on the horizon. Shit on the bowsprit. Debris on the rails. This may be where everything must change. Throw the dice... Throw all of them. We rollin’... Pants on the television. Lying on her side, feet and knees together, with the rear looking picturesque and symmetrical just pointing itself out to the world. This is very unusual for a Hallmark movie. They generally shy away from making any actor look overly shapely, although sometimes there is nothing that can be done. My mood is going to fall away today. Let us see what we can do with the fucking wake. The black pants are now wrapping her shape. And next to her is another woman with dark everything. There are the pants again. New scene. Ah... The dark one again, all full, pouting lips and big eyes. And the pants. Dark blue sweater. Plowing... A black skirt. This is November. I have been here before. I have seen it before. That was another time, yet somehow it is now. I was there, now I am here, yet I have not moved. The black skirt looks delicious. That other November was not good in ten ways and good in just one. And the good turned to very bad. And the bad turned worse. I went over there for a visit and returned three weeks later, two inches shorter of brain and longer of woe. The thought was born. An idea weaved its way into my head due to being slighted, passed over, ignored and disregarded for a time, and years later the idea became doctrine. The black skirt is a representation of exactly half of the topic. Half of the idea, as well. The other half is veiled. It is covered with the dusty scrim of life. Sometimes it is wrapped in black yoga pants. I need to take care of the usual business today and then work in the office a little bit. That angry feeling is right behind everything I’m trying to plan for the day, and it feels as if the two lines which have been converging all year are now within view. Not the lines I need, only those which have been grading the periphery of my life toward a center point. All I can do is watch. Much of what happens is my decision, too. The negatives have piled atop each other for long enough – some being due to my actions – yet still the remaining circumstances came about (and continue to develop) as haunted by the past and aspects of living which were far beyond my control. Sunday, November 27th. ‘The daggers went in deep; vile and sickening.’ The norm. It is here. I am so broken that the pieces elude even the sharpest of magnifying glasses. The girl with the cooking show is on the television for a minute as I find something other than Christmas movies for this morning. I can barely contain the desire to devour her entire body sometimes, especially considering this morning marks my head returning to that dark, desperate place it inhabited prior to being under the weather. Hmm... Feeling ‘under the weather’ was interrupted by feeling ‘under the weather’. I have to switch to one of the shows. I’ve been buried in pants so far this weekend and do not want any more of it. In addition, there has been confirmation of something I’ve been mentioning for months. Well, actually I’ve felt it since roughly the beginning of last year and brought it up here later. No detail, of course. This morning has effectively demonstrated the idea that my happiness doesn’t fucking matter. There you go. Fuck the rest. The daggers, indeed. I am alone. Damn those closet doors, anyway. This is such a bad situation, and the fact that there is nothing I can do about it only generates anger and frustration. On the heels of that is the feeling that I can’t be unkind to other people, meaning the bottom line becomes clear due to such a gradient. I just have to sit here and fucking live with it. Nice. The only speaking is through this site, yet too much of what I place here is unclear. Nice, again. This past week I felt a little more comfortable because everything had been shut off or delayed. Now I can see that the temporary comfort was not real. There has been no true comfort for many, many years. Always... Something right there behind the facade and waiting to cause problems. I really don’t want or need any more of that shit from people. Today will be the typical work along with my football game during the early afternoon. I do like the later games better because the time allows me to complete most of my Sunday business prior to kickoff. 0857. I have yet to rise and work on my stuff. That section of my brain which blew up this morning is haunting me and will not let up. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I did not ask for this shit. 1125. The morning game is midway to being finished. My game is still two hours away. I completed the routine and have a bit of garbage work out of the way. I need to install batteries into some snowflake decorations that will be lined up along the driveway for the season. The sunshine is helping to make the house comfortable, meaning I can probably finish the drone repair and run a test at some point. The garbage is pretty straightforward this week. And since I pulled the trigger on my twin computer monitors, a bit of office organization may be on tap for this afternoon in and around the football game. Monday. The early morning had me thinking, and then a little something came along and made me think even more. There are lots of reasons I became tired of people. Most of them date back to the late glow. Some have come along more recently and are related to a certain segment of the population. Now I am in the mindset of being completely closed to people. I cannot say what is taking place here, though. If I spell it out, too much may be revealed about other issues I’ve had with society in the past and the flood will arrive before I know it. I can’t have that. The important point to remember is that my mood follows along with how others affect me at times, and right now I am less than happy to say the least. I need to keep this within the yard, too. An abundance of shit due to being angry is going to muddy the site content. I’ve done it too many times before and know how it starts. The early morning issues that came along yesterday and then repeated today are going to push me in a similar direction. Whenever the camel is forced into spitting, there is only one resulting stance. I honestly don’t know what else to do and never really learned to cope with frustration, so anger is key. This being Monday morning means at least a small part of my head can remain centered upon housework. I really wish that had not happened this morning. I don’t need more reasons to push against people. This is one half of the mood. Ugh. My sense of taste has been mostly absent for the last few days (understandable, too), but now it is returning and my coffee tastes a bit off-kilter. Rats. I did not miss the taste that much, to be honest. I just didn’t really care because my health had been fucked up and I had bigger fish to fry. The coffee being normal would be nice right now, though. I miss it. Wow. This crap from earlier is really ringing my bell today. I’ll have to do my best to avoid too much pissy behavior. One certainty about this type of situation is that once I become angry, no one else is aware of the reasons. Secrecy is the word of the day. Much of what I say here is already pretty unclear, but the anger remaining behind closed doors is much more important of late. I suppose one could see this feeling as yet another tiny method for me to maintain some control over an aspect of life. Believe me, whenever there is something I can control, it will be embraced to the nth. Well, until the need wears off and everything fades, that is. Anyway, if I continue to state how angry I am with a person’s words or actions, eventually no one will give a shit. Time forces everything to fade, honestly. Everything. This will be no different. Just know that something came along in life which made me look behind the scrim to see the reality of a small situation, and now I am aware of potential problems in the future. I can now avoid them. You’d think this to be a positive, but the underlying cause is too stirring for me to focus upon the benefits. I have already been angered and there is nothing anyone can do about it. Wait a minute... There is a positive that I can embrace easily, and that is the work. I’ll end up more productive due to feeling upset. To whom it may concern: Thanks for the rankling issue. Hmm. Another may be the idea that any other issue rearing its head this morning has been squashed. I might remove the image in favor of something else. There you go. Learn about the birth of Silicon Valley. I have not discussed her face or eyes in some days. I believe the reason is I’ve run out of things to say. The pants and legs on the television throughout the past week could also have been placed here, but you already know shit like that is going to happen, be it in fiction or walking down my street. I don’t see the point in belaboring such crap anymore. The girl is in my head and heart and there is not a fucking thing I can do about her. Nothing. Erin is on the television in a blue dress (of all things) and I want to fly up inside it like a deranged pelican, yet to describe those feelings is completely useless. Just like my desire to disregard Erin and others like her, I think the focus needs to move away from ‘her’ eyes and toward those little steps I can take in order to convince a certain number of real people that I’ve hit a limit with this shit. I know who she is and can’t do anything. I can’t say anything. There is no point in going around the world with the same words if I am just going to end up right back here completely pissed off. No point. I will probably mention her from time to time, but nothing more. Erin is funny looking sometimes. Doesn’t matter. Well then. I’ll have to try to forget her and just leave the situation alone for a while. Nothing permanent, though. That may be impossible. I am already past the point of no return anyway, meaning I’ve pushed too much to the screen in recent years to actually think there can be a resolution. I know bullshit when I see it. Maybe once the new desktop system is in place I can shift everything to one side and continue doing whatever seems best for the duration. I used to sit there with a big cocktail and wonder how I ended up inside such a small space. Now I just become angry because of the same. There is not nearly as much questioning. I’ll have to do my best with this crap. I don’t see another way to maintain my sanity. Anger will have to suffice for the time being. I can only be strained for so long before the mood turns to ash. I already know why she pulls at me so much, anyway. I know. There is a resemblance in reality and a connection in my mind, both of which have pretty well solidified the feelings of need. I went back to pairs of eyes and realized they were two parts of the same turning point and leaving me craving those same eyes listening to my desperate words. Now there is a third pair of eyes that connected my heart to another situation that I can’t forget or understand, yet the pull is greater than ever. I know who she is and what I need. This may be worse than having no knowledge of the source. Right over there. Light years away. Trillions of miles. The connection I made inside my mind doesn’t matter to another soul on this fucking planet, let alone anyone who can help. I have to sit here and pound sand, as it were. That is the other half of being so upset. There is a feeling attached to the memory of walking through the Macy’s Cellar and toward Burberry Lane in the midst of the glow. It is rarefied and special beyond words. The smells, the lights, and the company. There is another feeling from ‘96 related to my parents, the computer and defense electronics industries, and the valley. It is equally special and marks the very beginning of my writing. The last time I drove through there I was very upset due to so many changes. Both those images are gone, and I keep thinking of something on the television last night, a line of hope. ‘The past is not something to lament. It is something upon which to build’ [sic]. I must disagree because not everyone has the ability to put bad things or mistakes into perspective and file them away for education. That is bullshit. I don’t like the implication that I cannot be sad and miss good parts of my life that I may not have fully appreciated at the time. I keep looking back and seeing myself feeling better than I do at this moment, so the correlation is shining. Don’t tell me that I can’t deal with the present as I see fit. More importantly, there are two situations from the long past which continue to plague me each day. I cannot remove them, I cannot go back there and tell people to go fuck themselves (or worse), nor can I speak to those responsible right now and try to make them understand the fruit of their unfeeling actions. Now tell me that I am supposed to react a certain way to what has transpired decades ago. Tell me not to be angry and wish to destroy them. Maybe you’ll see the lack of outlet as much as I do, and maybe not. Jesus fuck, is this woman in the movie fucking gorgeous. Wow. Whatever. Just another vision with which I can do nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Shut up. Fuck you. No matter what I try to say, shit goes bad. I sit here and try to analyze and then the words are shoved back in my direction. I don’t think there is anything I can do about the negative feelings right now. That means I’ll continue as I see fit. Someone is going to have a problem with it because no one seems to understand that reading what is placed here is an option in life. No one needs to read this but me. Go somewhere else, please. Let me do what I am doing and attempt to make sense of the world. Stay out of the way and don’t interrupt. Go make your own site and type what you feel. I don’t care and I won’t read it. Maybe no one should be here in the first place. A password? No... Locking this is too difficult. I can keep it to myself, I suppose, because sooner or later there will be one or more people with a fucking problem. This is line number 666. I just hit another wall. I don’t like walls. This woman on the screen keeps looking better and better but she’s not causing all sorts of problems. Just beautiful, nothing more. Pretty eyes, slender features, dark skin. I think I’ve been too upset this morning to want to jump her shit. It is nice to see a dark-skinned woman without a huge rear end, though. Very well-proportioned, that one. Anyway, I need to take care of the routine soon because the clock pays no mind to my problems. The sun is shining like yesterday, so hopefully I can finish the drone and run a test. I’ve let that sit for too long. Wow, she is quite slender. Ugh. Whatever. This entry is fucking stupid. I wanted to go on about her eyes, but alas the virus and other distractions have completely derailed my equating them to Laura and Michelle number two. I don’t know what the hell I can say that will accomplish anything at this point in time. There have been too many issues to consolidate into something productive or with enough understanding to help the situation. Had I not seen her two weeks ago, much of this would not exist. I keep trying but end up rolling the train in a circle and eventually coming right back to the same fucking problems.
I was talking about the rails last night. There was a Christmas movie set almost entirely on a train and I thought about the signal loss from phones when they were in the mountains. That led to the rails. And then I remembered speaking with a Union Pacific ‘maintenance of way’ employee way back in the early nineties about the possibility of finding work on the railroad. He told me there was to be a merger between Union Pacific and SP and the likelihood of my coming in from the dry cold and applying for work was probably not a good idea. He suggested I go to the offices in the City and apply rather than through any of the yards. The rails upon which he had been working were very close to my work, too. There was a switch and a wye not far from our office where I spent most nights. Wow, this woman in the current movie looks like a cat. I’m not kidding, either. Anyway, during one slow night when all was quiet, I decided to begin jotting down the times when I heard locomotives cruising by. Some time later, I drove over to an intersection and waited behind a restaurant where the rails crossed both roads at an angle. The space was roughly a hundred feet long and I waited on one side next to a fence. The line was straight and I knew the headlight would wash the area prior to the train actually rolling by. Well, I had been mistaken as to the direction of the trains I had heard up to that point and was caught off-guard by a four-unit train approaching me from the southeast rather than northwest. It was rolling along pretty fast, meaning the air was piling up in front and deceiving my ability to localize the sound. I was certain the train would approach from the north, too. Rumbling; rails creaking and sizzling with electricity; and then I saw the wash of light and spun on my heels to see two headlamps (one in motion) advancing on my position too quickly for escape to someplace further away. The train was right there eight feet from my body and flew by accompanied by wind and my nervous shaking. I was completely surprised and pinned to the fence for a full half-minute. That was the last time I tried to catch a closeup glimpse of one train rolling by. Subsequent attempts to record sound or shoot photographs were performed a few years later near my parents’ house in an open area on the mainline. No more confined spaces for me. A million tons of steel at forty-plus miles per hour makes quite an impact when a person is that close to the rails. I spoke of that incident because I was reminded last night, and believe me when I say that yesterday is one I would like to forget forever. Something took place nearly a day ago which has me more concerned than ever about my physical well-being. The only choice was to work around the house and try to forget everything. The train-related Christmas movie helped quite a bit. The cat-woman is looking better and better with a mass of lines on display and my brain trying to sneak into her clothing. Ah... She is now wearing a different outfit, thank Christ. There are no trains on this side of the bay aside from light rail and the commuter system running from the City all the way to the south. Those are different from freight trains, believe me. Very quiet and smooth as opposed to overpowering and heavy. One of these days I need to grab the big camera and find some location where I can once again shoot the trains, or at least the locomotives. The last occasion to shoot was twelve years ago not far from the southeast corner of the Sea in Niland. Well, the drive is real close to six hundred miles and I am not making that trip to grab a few hours’ worth of lens time. No way. I’ll have to figure something out closer to home. The only way to be there for some photographic adventuring would be to take the same trip over again, just like some years ago. The more I look back at that week, the more fond I am of the memory. I’ll come up with a destination one of these days. The map always calls my name and gets the sense of adventure all wound up tight until I start planning something crazy. Now that I have looked around for a while, the need to get the hell out of here and drive away for a while is beginning to expand. I don’t know about six hundred miles to the Sea, but something will come up soon. The trains drive my sense of direction at times. More often than not, actually. ‘She’ has a train, too. It is buried deep inside and rules the traffic in her head. That is the thing with a train... There is no altering the route or changing direction on a whim. The rails are fixed and a person goes wherever the train may dictate. No one can argue the route. Not at all. Right now my locomotive is idling in place just to keep the heat going. The controls await the end of this holding pattern. I have to get the hell out of here soon, perhaps my birthday in less than two months. That week will mark five years since the last road trip and I’m just itching to go somewhere with the camera in tow. Last year I came up with a hell of a route all over northern Nevada but the idea fell away like so many others in the past. My birthday always allows for some freedom to plan, hence the long trip five years back. Another gorgeous, slender woman in this movie. That never stops. Anyway, a week is not a long time for driving, so I’ll have to come up with some places that aren’t too far apart, also considering the furthest point from home being midway through the trip rather than at the end. I don’t like having to traverse hundreds of miles on the last day. Palm Desert may be too far this time, too. Wow, she is something to see. Five-nine and all that goes with it. Jesus. Whatever. I have other fish to fry. The memories of Palm Desert have been taking over this morning because of the Sea and landscape down there. Winter is very sharp and cool, the weather remaining mild throughout the cooler seasons, yet clear much of the time. That makes for some very stark images in the camera. I really don’t want to drive six hundred miles, although the first destination does not have to be the last. I could travel there for a few days and then keep another location in mind to drive part way home instead of enduring such a long drive at the end of the week. That may be best, and could facilitate some great time near the rail yards, not to mention the sea itself. I’ll have to think about this for a while. 1151 on the same day, Tuesday the 29th. Lunch is in the oven and I finished my daily routine. The drone failed its test yesterday, meaning the guy will be stopping by later this week to pick it up. I was sure I found and eliminated the problem, but alas those devices are very complex. I tried, though. My truck sits idle as it awaits inspiration. All I’ve done in the garage for the last few days is ensure everything remains organized. I don’t know what else to do out there. I wish yesterday had not happened. That is to say there was an incident which caught me off-guard and I may be ill-equipped to cope. This is something which came along some years ago but seemed temporary. I can’t explain, unfortunately. I can barely scratch this kind of topic, actually, because everything will come back and back and back again. I can’t have that type of thing right now because I am already far enough down. Wednesday morning, early. Another day, another set of dreams I do not understand. Oh, there is Jessica. Splendid. There had been a time when I really wanted to... Not anymore. Now I just stare. She just turned thirty-four a little while back. Fucking stunning woman, that one. Every now and again there is a touch of light coming through and it tells me that her lines are in place like never before. That is very rare, and something to which I’ve been glued for years. Seeing the lines and the face at the same time is a little overwhelming. She keeps showing up in black pants and a lovely white sweater with that brown hair all over the place. I’m going to begin dreaming about her again just like a few years ago, I know it. The lines are too much and her face is unique, both of them leaving me to realize that what happened the other day is merely a symptom of a much larger issue. Damn... She donned the long coat again. I wish things were different. I wish life could be different. Yesterday I became so lost in the afternoon that I was forced to agree to work today and tomorrow just to have something to do other than wallowing. I realize that may sound stupid after declaring the intention of taking off the rest of the year, but honestly the feeling was THAT bad for a while. I have to get out of here, and I’m not talking about a trip. Just a few hours away in order to instill the feeling of being overjoyed at arriving home again in the afternoon. I need it right now. The work yesterday was fine; my mood was not. I passed the time for a while prior to coming back inside for the evening relaxation. Music, beer, lousy attitude... The whole thing. Hopefully, this evening will come along and find me feeling better than the last two days. I could use a boost, plus the cash doesn’t hurt during this time of year. The legacy commercials always pop up each year at the outset of the holiday season. I keep using my middle finger to point to the screen, yet the fault of what happened does not belong to the software. I never should have headed in such a direction because the only result was anger. My dreams of the past ended up becoming confusing and skewed, nothing more. No help was served, no good information uncovered. I started out excited and a month later felt disillusioned and angry. Others can enjoy that work. Not me. I will not head in such a direction again in this life. I guess the subject makes me cunty sometimes. Oh, Jessica. Just let me... Please. Ugh. Please. Help me. Almost time to get ready. I don’t think the work will bother me at all today because I’m already aware of the lay of the land at that job, and the general is a friend of mine from years back. Everything operates very smoothly. The first time on a site can be overwhelming, but this will be my fifth day. 0603 on Thursday. Christmas movies have been ruling the dial since last week, partly due to my desire to see more than I should. Big surprise. The incident from the other day still has me at sixes and sevens. I don’t know what to do or how to alter the situation. This shit has been trying to take over my thinking for days. The work yesterday helped me to rid myself of worry over the future and a big question that keeps repeating whenever I am feeling lost. I don’t want to spell it out here. Work is fine. The money is coming in which helps with my Christmas planning, too. This is quite a change from last year. The other problem from early in the year is reinforcing this new shit and pushing me to think that such a change may be permanent. I will say in no uncertain terms that what comes to mind before anything else is my time with Andrea while we were at the Polynesian. We discussed much of life – both good and bad nearly all of the time – and commented often on the idea that the situation we had created for ourselves was idyllic and could possibly ruin the future for one or both of us. I am now beginning to feel that those days and weeks jaded my sense of comfort and may indeed have ruined any possibility of finding the good in life without believing that the bad has already come along and outweighed anything in the future, as if all the doors are already shut and there is no reason to search. That is not a very nice thought, even for me. I do not deal well with seemingly impossible situations. And I’ll try to avoid getting into the idea that what we shared back then was destructive and altered my beliefs in a bad way. I can’t have that right now. Ugh. 1610, same day. There is a Christmas movie on (naturally), the third of several. My head is completely overloaded from what I’ve seen and felt today. The work was just fine. We solved problems and advanced the entire project nicely. Unfortunately, between the previous movie, one guest beauty in the current movie, and the fucking cleaning girls across the street from the job, I am just about fit to be tied. The main reason was the movie. I could not keep my eyes in their sockets when that woman was on the screen. Oh, of course... The big eyes, long, slender legs, skirts, pants, the whole fucking shitaree. Damn it. And on the heels of the cleaning girls? Not good, damn it. Not good. I am going to lose my shit. I should not be watching these films, but inside of me is a hole that cannot be filled no matter what takes place in life, now or in the future. The fact remains that I become mesmerized over and over by the sheer level of artwork from time to time and have become too weak to resist anything that will hurt me. The words in my brain during those seconds cannot be repeated here, although I believe some measure has crept out of the shadows during the past few years. I just can’t help it. Keep in mind that the damage and desperation inside me are far worse than whatever I’ve tried to spell out on the site. Much worse, actually. I don’t even know how I made it this far once realizing that there is no future for me. There is nothing I can do about any of it, yet I keep looking and dreaming. Maybe I’m just a fuckin’ idiot. ‘Historically, that’s been the case.’ Thanks Tony. The woman in this movie that blew my skirt up is a fringe guest. Just a few appearances throughout two hours. Her face is all exaggerated like Tricia and she is very tall. I always notice the height because of all the stretched features. I still don’t know the whole story about the height thingy, though. Maybe watching the VS fashion shows years ago jaded me. I don’t fucking know, but it continues to this very second. The darkness is another mystery. Oh, there is the woman again. Maybe I can watch her walk and look at the lines. Splendid. Friday, 0609. I agreed to help again today at the job. Hopefully, we will be leaving there early like yesterday. I need time to think. The problem from early in the year is occupying my mind again this morning and I have no solution as of yet. This is very disconcerting, to say the least. As I mentioned before, there could be a solid reason why I’ve been feeling this way of late, but whether or not I am certain, it is not something I can place on the site. I will say in no uncertain terms that such an issue has never happened before and has the power to stop everything I do. I can also state that I believe I know why my sympathetic nervous system has begun to malfunction. One thing leads to another in life, meaning my path may have held the keys to the problems that I am experiencing right now. I can’t be sure, but it makes sense. I went from one extreme to another, and then back again only to find myself lost like never before. This is not a good situation by any means, and seems to be worsening as the days pass. I am more concerned at this very moment than at any time throughout the past year. Not good. The only kind of mood that can result from this type of thing is anger, pure and simple. I really did not feel like heading out the door yesterday morning and am the same right now. The hours will pass, though, and I’ll make it back here just fine during the early afternoon. The morning is the tough part because when I am in the mood to sit here and write, nothing else can compare. I have plenty of time ahead, however. I can help and earn some money in the short term only to reap the benefits later. The cash is really helping my holiday gift acquisitions. Time to get ready. 1418, same day. Work was both short-lived and productive. We accomplished everything that had been outlined. No cleaning girls, no designer in painted-on pants, no nothing. Just work. I have not forgotten this morning’s thoughts, however. They are still floating inside and hurting me. I have half the routine finished and will tackle the other half in a little while. There is an icy cocktail to my right. Believe me, I need it. I will not venture past the tipping point today, despite the rampant sadness and pain slathered all over my heart. One of these days, perhaps... Never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d be in this type of situation after all these years. Never. This is completely fucking ridiculous and I am growing more angry by the day. The most important aspects of life are more elusive than even the Passion. Again... This is fucking ridiculous. I am definitely going to flip the fuck out one of these days and then be held responsible for my actions by those who do not understand. The situation will be hilarious and harmful and I am going to do nothing more than laugh. The more trouble and discomfort I cause, the more I shall laugh. Perhaps I’ll run aslant of the wrong individual and be shot in the neck.
0721 on Saturday morning. I am sideways and there is no fixing it. I honestly don’t know what to say now. I’ve summed up quite a bit recently and now when I sit here at the keyboard in the morning I have little to type. Everything has been said. Well, everything I CAN say without being thrown out with the bath water, anyway. No details. For the last three years, I’ve been dreaming of situations and ideas and then placing some of them here to try and analyze or understand why my head moves in certain directions. I tried to learn if everything stemmed from the obsession, the trauma, or those incidents in between when I was put down. Now I just sit here and describe my work days or routine. I mention the beautiful women that come across the screen during the Christmas movies that I should not be watching (I learned earlier this morning that I can see some of my favorites without waiting for the actual broadcast dates and times). I am really tired of this crap... Sitting at the computer in the morning while feeling very down and alone and then typing the same terms as all the other mornings. I have been thinking that something will change or I’ll find some realization that forces a change in the way I have been living. Nope. Two-plus million words in just three years speak to the contrary. On many occasions I’ve asked if there is a point to this endeavor and the answer never really matters. I just keep going. The truth is that I feel more lost and angry right now than I did prior to the big site swing of fifteen. Seventeen was pretty bad, too. That summer had me reaching further than ever in my life and still nothing came of it. Now? That is all history and I look back at it almost daily just for the reminders (and sometimes the timeline). I am tired. Not too long ago, someone in the real world took issue with a few things I wrote and displayed here during the last summer. I was surprised. I was also taken aback due to the nature of the words. I shut that down right quick, believe me. That person will not be addressing me regarding the site, ever. Months have passed since it happened and I’ve gone over some of the content just to see if I could find something that stood out from what has become the norm here. I found nothing that could raise a flag, so everything remains as it is. No matter how many times I try to point out that this exploration is all mine and subject to no restrictions whatsoever, a situation arises out of the clear, blue sky and catches me off-guard. That fact has pushed me to think that if this content helps no one, why is it still public? Good question. I am going to make a change right now that will partially answer such a question. Done. 0936. The soccer match was a failure. I think this country is out of the running. Damn. My game is on at five. The only team that matters, remember? The day is wide open and I have no idea of what to do aside from the routine. There is a Christmas movie on, naturally, but no issues within the story. I’m sure that will change later today. Oh... I see two Ashley movies running consecutively. Splendid. Her nose alone is the stuff of dreams. Whatever. They will probably play in the background if I don’t switch back to the second show later. Right now I don’t really care which because either way my head will descend into her pants. I am a basket case. Shenae is wearing Christmas tree pajamas. Super cute. As for the rest of the movie, wow is there ever a gorgeous face on the screen. Blonde hair, but still... Holy crap. And one more time for posterity... Whatever. The day is wide open and I will have to find a direction soon. I can only sit here and complain for so long before slamming the laptop shut. This entire shitaree is worthless, anyway. Where is the train? The topic seems to have been lost toward the top of the page and I don’t give a shit. My level of creativity is very low right now, and that is why the titles no longer match the essays. Not only that, but the long series which began a few years ago without a conclusion is languishing in ‘development hell’. There is another part to the story, too. It’s about one hundred lines long. Nothing more. I stopped trying to continue that tale very early this year because the heartache took over and I couldn’t think straight. This is a daily issue now. Don’t expect anything of note on this site in the future, and keep in mind the most important part of such a fact: I don’t care. I’ve covered about as much as I can given the tools in my brain. Everything has been working against me for far too long to continue holding it together all by myself. Period. I can’t get myself to care no matter the circumstances. 1156 and holy shit... Not one, but two Ashley movies in a row. The first is playing right now and my head exploded while cleaning the kitchen. Oh, and not just her, either. The co-star is unbelievably adorable. She actually rivals Ashley in some respects. God damn is Ashley ever something to see in jeans and looking like a million bucks. Fuck me in a snowy ditch, that woman is an encyclopedia of dark beauty. Four hours of her on both televisions. I’m going to lose my shit today. I don’t know if her face has graced this site, but I believe it should (in spades). What I wouldn’t give to... As I said, part of the routine is finished. I am not in a hurry at all today. None of this shit seems to matter after being so down for weeks. Months? Years? Ugh. Good fucking God, that woman’s face makes me insane. It is chiseled. I had forgotten since the last holiday season, believe it or not. Jesus. Anyway, some of my work around the house is not terribly appealing right now but it has to be done regardless of my level of motivation. I added an image of Ashley just before the last section. Her face as framed by her hair is quickly rising in both beauty and importance. Sunday morning, 0707. My coffee has peppermint cream inside. Good stuff. I have a nice, mellow Christmas movie on right now for posterity. Lots of blonde hair again. I guess many people like the lighter colors. I don’t, yet the two main characters are super cute. After yesterday’s Ashley overload (not to mention her Asian hybrid sidekick), I could use a break from gawking at the television and remaining distracted all day. The game came and went, dinner came and went, and I slept. This is all so very exciting. I guess this site is running on empty, as Jackson Browne might say. There may be nothing more to explore here because I can’t say that much and I’ve learned very little anyway. The last year in particular has been nothing more than realizing that I am missing one hell of a connection and every other idea for exploration or learning is impossible in these late days. Sometimes all I see when I sit here during the mornings is some information and exposition about the house or whatever I might be doing, be it working in the outside world or right here at home. That is all. And then the faces and pants on the television. And then the difficulties I see each day that are slowly taking me apart. Around and around and back to the beginning. Running on empty, or at least very close. I have to do something different. Everything seems to force me into the same position at some point each day, and that is being angry about this situation. I can’t do anything about anything, and I’ve been thinking lately that even if I did force some sort of change, the inside of me will be exactly the same. What would be the point? The past is unchangeable, and the more people tell me to leave it in the rear view mirror, the angrier I become due to sitting here as a product of that time and unable to rise from it. There is too much power in those memories, period. No matter where I go or what I may do, the memories will not change. I can say the same shit in only so many different ways. One of the minor characters in this movie has an amazing mouth. Such an observation actually labels me, believe it or not. I am not supposed to point out details or I’m a sexist. Well, then I am a sexist. I am of only one sex and to believe I can live my life without making observations or comments about the (much) more attractive half of the world is completely unrealistic. Her mouth is gorgeous but difficult to describe. Shoot me. I am already miserable. May as well point out the details. I have heard worse from other people, near and far. I don’t even know why I became defensive. None of this matters. And I forgot that the site content is inaccessible to anyone but me. Very good. There she is again... The lovely smile. I have a very skewed sense of reality and a distorted view of society. Those two combined are much of the drive behind describing some errant woman that I see in the world or on television, also reinforced by living the way I have for the last many years. The compulsion grew from obsession, and the obsession grew from a few possible situations in the past. I still can’t point directly to any of them, however. I can only surmise to know for sure of something concrete. The point is that I know when I sit here like this and see the actors on the screen, there are two certainties. One is that the characters are fictional and often WAY off what is actually living in real society. The other is the idea that despite the fact that they are actors, I still see real people and draw similar dreams as I might for someone seen in person; the woman across the street a few weeks ago with the kids and the toy car, for example. Her legs screamed at me so badly that the work fell away and I felt pain inside due to the inability to see her lines closeup. I don’t know her and never will, just like the pretty smile on the television this morning. They are all the same and may as well not even exist. The bottom line is that my focus has been upon the very few rather than the whole of society. As such, my view of the other half of the population is extremely distorted from what is actually related to real life. Add in the science fiction and my dreams of a machine and one can see the image of my derealization coming together clearly. Sometimes when I look at someone I am not seeing a person. I am seeing an object. That means I am no longer fit to operate within society. Months ago I stated that my path has lines on either side which have been converging as time passes. Witness the result. And still no train. The last thing I would ever do is attempt to justify what I’ve become. I am only trying to paint a picture. 0821 and I am looking forward to doing my usual Sunday business today. I’ve been thinking about running one of my favorite shows in the background in favor of the Christmas movies because of the distraction. I know the shows backwards and forwards, meaning I don’t have to see everything and hear each word. It’s more relaxing that way. I’ll be here alone for a few hours like a typical Sunday. My little world will be under my little measure of control. Not bad. Jesus... Fair skin tone contrasted by bright red lipstick? Failure. Ugh. Whatever. She is still adorable for whatever reason, but all that blonde hair and red just ruins the image. Too bad. Anyway, I have a little to do in the kitchen and then whatever else might look appealing, after which will be the home-team football game that I will watch alone. The other day an idea came up to catch our game at the big restaurant not far from here with my buddy. I love sitting at their bar because the food is outstanding and the atmosphere is quite old-fashioned. Well, due to becoming infected weeks ago after a gathering at the other bar, I believe the safe choice (smarter, too) is to remain home. Believe me, I would love to perch myself there for hours with all that great food and watch my team, but I am afraid that the chance of problems is still too high. Another day, perhaps. Maybe closer to Christmas when I am feeling all nostalgic. The work today will hopefully keep my mind off any imperial entanglements. There is always something to do; I just don’t always have the motivation. After seeing Mallory the other night in several different outfits and hearing a comment from my partner regarding how ‘skinny’ she appeared, I believe both my view and taste in the female form has changed as recently as the last couple of years. Mallory is very slender, and after seeing her (especially wearing a beautiful pencil skirt) walk around the sets for two hours, I began to view Ashley as a tad larger than my taste, to be honest. And Ashley is slender, too. She is not as thin as Mallory, yet in the grand scheme she’s wonderfully built. I realize how this may sound, but the truth is I found the more slender of the two more attractive to my eyes, and I believe that view is here to stay. There is a limit, however. There is always a line present when it comes to the ratio of height to weight for people. ANY person, really. Even myself. I believe Mallory was close to that line, as her curves were still prominent but she could not tip the scale very much. I don’t know what that means, but I know what the issue is causing on the inside of my head, and that is the idea of my view still changing from the ‘runway model fascination days’ many years ago. This entire line of thinking can be very hazardous, as well. A flytrap for negative comments. Fortunately, there is presently no way for visitors to address me unless they are acquainted with me in the real world. Heh. I don’t have to listen to anyone. I just combined ‘Her X’ and ‘Her XI’ because I don’t give a shit. None of this means a fucking thing in the scheme of the world, anyway. I may as well spray paint my words on a beach. The result would be similar. I may alter the title again if this crap veers further from the opening lines. 0903 and another movie just began. I’ll have to transition into the Sunday business soon. I like to care for the floor and litter first thing because it feels like the door to the work is opened by doing so. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling. Anyway, the previous paragraphs have effectively tired me out for the time being. Outlining why I find one woman attractive and the next not at all is not easy, but I believe it is important to learn of the genesis of some of my interests because the knowledge may lead to understanding why I become so fucking depressed when I see the lines. The woman walking with her kids that day was likely the most striking example of dimensional passion so close to home. I was literally DYING to see everything and I still don’t know why that draw is so powerful and crippling at the same time. I keep trying, though. And despite what may come across as an ‘end’ to this exploration (like above), there can truly be no real conclusion. There is an Asian beauty with amazing lips in this movie. She is a flight attendant. Who cares? No one. I really need to begin the housework soon. Sunday is one of the good ones and I can’t lose sight of such a fact. Hopefully, the anger will not rear its ugly head and force my hand today. I don’t want to become pissy. Another flight attendant with big, dark eyes and a gorgeous mouth. Jesus. I’ve seen my fair share of lovely staff on aircraft, but this movie has them all confined to one fucking plane. Heh. Anyway, I am going on about the beauty too much this morning. I’m going to try to cease the description of every little thing that crosses my vision (good luck). What happened to the ‘train’? This has gone so far off the rails that I can’t even imagine what they look like anymore. Maybe I should return to writing about the desert and the little scorpions with headphones. Something just popped into my head when the characters in this movie climbed into a rental car. I can’t say what it is, though. Believe me, such a thought has been one of the largest questions and most stirring points of contention inside my brain for more than a decade. It is also a sidebar to the bulk of what I have written, nothing more. There are no degrees of the word 'impossible'. The term is an absolute.
1325. The routine is finished and I have some laundry going while the game is on. I went through the refrigerator and removed some science experiments, too. Yikes. The Sunday business is mostly finished. Very nice. Now I can focus upon the football game and take it easy. Monday morning and no work until I feel like it. Nothing but coffee and Christmas movies for the duration, or until such time as I deem myself ready to go out the door. I may shop at the big wine store later, but at least that is entirely up to me and subject to my whims and schedule. Work is different, although not as bad as it used to be a few years ago. I was really disillusioned with the entire process. These days everything seems mellow for some reason, even while in the midst of a job. If I do venture to the wine store, I may take a detour over to the electronics store and inquire about desktop systems for future reference. This day could prove very rewarding compared to the last couple of weeks. I actually feel very free right now. There are still problems swirling inside, but at least I have the time and space to think. I must try to avoid becoming really pissed off. Being at work does not allow me to dwell upon anything because of being busy all the time. Now that I am home after more than two weeks of either working a lot or being under the weather, the free time is opening my mind to those issues which had been ruling my mood for a very long time. There are too many, so I will refrain from going down a list. The point is I will have to try even harder to keep my temper and wording reined in from this day into the near future. That is a tall order after all this time. I will say being home this morning is very nice and feels rather liberating. Hopefully, this mood can continue without my flipping the fuck out. The train has gone awry. I had a really nice plan for creating a narrative around the recent discovery that ‘she’ may be nearby and the correlation between ‘her’ and her. For days I sat here and attempted to build a bit of a story which was to begin back in twenty when I was desperately searching for ‘something’ that felt a connection of sorts and then bring it forward to the present with my constant gushing for a certain character. There had been the realization that ‘she’ was here in town and resembled some of the facial expressions so closely that I lost my mind. The train was going to go all over the place and explore each destination as I lived through it during the past three years. Well, all that went to shit in the last few weeks as I became more and more disillusioned with trying to help myself, and more angry due to feeling so alone in this. The train never left the fucking station, meaning my narrative was halted before it ever had a chance to start moving. This is not good because I use trains and other devices as vessels for my deepest thoughts. Without them, I will fall on my face and sound like nothing more than a blathering idiot. Wonderful. 0829 and the inside of my head is a map of lines this morning. One more little nudge and I am off the balcony. 0856. Consider me 'nudged'. 0945. I am listening to one of the great unrequited loves of my life, the very same that drove my ass out the NASA gate nineteen years ago and straight to Las Vegas on a sunny fall morning. This music has been the catalyst for so many past entries that I probably can’t even count them all. Over the wireless MDRs, it is all-encompassing and violent. Sometimes I need it to carry me through a day, and today is the type. Pain on the inside, pain on the outside, and not a fucking thing I can do about either. This may be the day when the last huge mural on the inside of the garage door is outlined. I already have a few things going thanks to the compositions, meaning if my productive state can continue, the outline will begin later. This album drives me like nothing else in the world. I will find the fucking train soon enough. 1208. I finished almost everything and wrapped a few presents for Christmas. The typical cocktail is next to me. Also, I switched from music to the television for good form. Too much of certain music combined with alcohol will create a bad situation out of thin air. I can’t have such a thing right now. I need to maintain a positive stance today, or at least as positive as it can be after a shit morning. The incident which took place last weekend is weighing on my mind. I can’t get rid of it because the day could be a glimpse of the future, or it could be nothing at all. The only way I can react to such a day is with anger. I am so sick of everything that I’m surprised to be operating this site after all this time. Nothing helps me, most of all other people. I honestly don’t know what to do or say to people, anyway. They will believe whatever they wish and I’d rather be left out of the whole thing. The incident to which I refer is one of those issues which will not be detailed here, nor will I speak to another person about it no matter who may come along... Not even ‘her’. I will say that it holds the singular ability to destroy me, unlike anything else. If I disappear, no one will ever know why. 1559. Everything is finished and I have a roast sitting on the counter to warm prior to cooking. Dinner will be pretty easy this evening. The gangsters have been keeping me company as I work around the house, meaning the love of my life has been appearing here and there. Another step toward the new desktop system was accomplished, too. I need to order a chair for that room. Once again, the last component will be the machine. I don’t need to be in a hurry because this computer has the power to run twin displays until I can acquire the desktop. The most important step right now is a chair. ‘Tis the season to be FUCKING FLOORED by beauty. That's right, kids. The damaging dream slammed my head for a short time and I could not operate my brain for several minutes. Once again, everything flared. Right fucking there and a trillion miles away. Improbable? Nope. Impossible. One of the most stirring visions of my life, yet again. A situation requiring just enough strength for me to lose my way for the remainder of the night. Right fucking there. I am recording a movie involving a train combined with unique beauty and it won't matter in the least when held against the most powerful draw imaginable. The visage is unparalleled. I am going to flip out tomorrow. The world beware. Stare. Unaware. Hair. Right... Under... THERE. I have never yearned so much for anything. This is very bad. So close... 0706 on Tuesday and I still have that image inside my brain. The thoughts in my head during those moments were more desperate than anything in recent memory. Yesterday was bad enough without having such wonder right next to me, even if it was short-lived. The morning turned into a pile of shit, I then kicked into gear and accomplished a ton of work, and then the afternoon sun angle opened my mind to the Christmas glow until destiny hit me upside the head hard enough to force visions I should not be embracing. Moreover, just a little while later in the evening I recorded a movie starring one of the great loves from the last decade after having lost track of her career for quite some time. Between her very unique face and several early shots of her lines, I set in to watch the entire film while almost constantly rubbing my forehead as if the world was coming to an end and saving it was up to me alone. Nice. I watched the whole movie and lost my shit twenty times over seeing her again, all the while with the damaging dream and the scent of something full of torture dangling right behind my eyes. The combination of the damage and the movie was too much for me and I called it a day. Now I have to think about everything, like always, yet worse. I really didn’t need both visions in the space of two hours. I just changed all of the images to one person because she reminds me of someone who used to be close to me. No, not a person mentioned here. Someone else from the past. Lyndsy was in the movie last night and created a wonderland of memories and visions from a more peaceful time in my life. Her smile melts me to this day, so Lyndsy now graces the entire entry. This is much better than the haphazard melange of images that were here before today. I can’t think straight. The female lead in this movie has duck lips. Cute. I don’t know how I am able to hold it together during those moments when everything spins out of control, like last night. The incident was unexpected and I was unprepared for the experience, especially considering the circumstances since last summer (which I cannot explain). Believe me, if the subject was available for comment here, I would have already written reams of information to attempt to describe both the situation and my feelings. All of the words are right there at my fingertips, too. Right there. I would love to lay it all out here, but unfortunately the site would not be the same and I can’t have this apple cart upset right now. Last night I was moving around the house trying to locate a few items and tools, all the while thinking that the sheer level of disbelief over the entire affair was unprecedented in my life. Afterward, I moved around the house again, that time muttering and mumbling to myself and trying to maintain my posture without completely losing it. I succeeded, returned to dinner preparations, and finally had the meal. And then Lyndsy appeared on the television and sent me flying further into orbit. That was more than enough for one fucking evening. There is a positive to this, as well. Yep, a positive. The level of strength inside me last night peaked and all of the feelings were closed off so much that anyone standing before me would have been completely buried in snowfall. I have become an expert at putting up the largest artificial expressions and long lines of bullshit in order to keep the truth absolutely buried. An expert. Part of that is fear and another part is strength. I know not from where the latter came, but I appreciate the ability. I need it, in fact, or everything will come crashing down on my tired head. Not a smidgen of emotion or difficulty can come forth. Nothing. I will have to continue the bullshit facade for the duration, as well. There are no changes on my horizon, only more arduous moments requiring my massive snow-making machine. I keep seeing imagery from yesterday and I feel like my head is going to explode. The damaging dreams were just that – dreams, and nothing more. When reality comes along and pops me upside the head like that, I really don’t know how to react other than clamming up and spewing bullshit in random directions in order to throw possible difficulties off the trail of my genuine feelings. The situation must remain under wraps or bad things are going to happen. My immediate reaction was a defensive posture. That posture remained long enough for me to regain my composure (inside) and continue the afternoon while daydreaming of the most improbable imagery in the world. I can’t say it's impossible because there have been stranger and more far-fetched situations in the past which actually took place. This one? Unlikely, yet I cannot deny the reality that things can change. I’m not holding my breath, though. 0837 and I can still remember everything. There were seconds in which I thought I saw something there, yet I cannot know after hours have passed and no inquiry would be acceptable. None of this is going to make any sense to others, anyway. I haven’t really said anything, but at the same time – and with my knowledge of the inner workings of my own head – I’ve gushed a ton of information. I thought there was a glimpse, but the only way to be certain would be to ask questions and that is not going to happen. The whole shitaree shall reside inside my mind and nowhere else on earth. What I believed I saw is actually possible and that is the bottom line. I don’t believe it was wishful thinking (although that is not such a stretch). I am proud of myself for not losing my shit last night. There’s another positive for you. And... Today. Last night I said I was going to flip out today. I don’t feel the same, the anger having left in favor of a more analytical stance, so I think the day will be fine. I have the usual work plus an order to pick up at the big wine store later. There may be another destination if I feel the mood. Right now I don’t know if I will want to go anywhere else. There is no laundry waiting, my garage is nice and neat, and the routine will not take long at all. I’m going to end up with a ton of free time, and knowing how my head can end up sideways, I’ll try to keep some sort of pace this morning so I don’t lose my way. I also have to let yesterday afternoon fade into the past. That one could stop me in my tracks. Nothing in the world is more powerful. Hmm. An image popped into my head after moving some files off the server. Lyndsy resembles the rollercoaster girl, a face I’ve not considered for some months. Very interesting. Oh, I have the entire documentary in HD on this machine and backed up on the server (and RAID system), plus I have acquired software that can extract images from the video and save them. Curious, all those years I could see her beautiful face inside my head and yearned to watch her in motion. I finally found her after scouring for the tenth time, and now she just sits there on the computers. Maybe the search was the thing, or perhaps knowing I can see her whenever the mood strikes is enough to keep my brain satiated. Honestly, the rollercoaster girl returned this morning due to Lyndsy on the television last night and my subsequent image search this morning. Funny? Maybe. Or the case may be nothing more than my weakness and need to imagine being comfortable in a way I’ve missed for nearly two decades. That is not so funny. Where is the fucking train? Derailed? Or is the locomotive stuck in some abandoned roundhouse and awaiting attention? That’s probably it. Wow... I just decided that for my birthday next month I need to get the fuck out of this place and capture some images of locomotives, railroad beds and cars. Again with the trains? Yeah... Again with the trains. Alicia’s co-star in the fictional office on television right now has one hell of a face. Eyes, nose and mouth... All gorgeous and exotic, not to mention those high cheekbones that blow up professional lenses around the globe. Damn, she’s gorgeous and frightening at the same time, standing five-eight. There is a very specific set of features which always causes me to turn on my heel and face away, and she has it. Pretty, but ‘stay away from her’. I can’t get that fucking smile out of my head this morning. The work will have to suffice until such time as I can extract the difficulty and cease imagining all manner of indescribable situations. I can’t talk about that stuff, unfortunately, or the site would have to go away forever. The fact is I can’t get what transpired to leave me alone. The flowing hair was more than enough to drive my head straight into places I will not spell out. I’ve done it, but I don’t want to anymore. There is no need. Oh, and I recorded the movie with Lyndsy, so picturing the rollercoaster girl with her arms around me is going to continue, bookended by Lyndsy herself and the shit from last night. Maybe if I become all pissy again I’ll be more productive today. Heh. This is all too much sometimes. Do you see how the damaging dreams can steer anything away from my keyboard and take over the writing? They are THAT fucking powerful and return when I least expect. 0919. The sun may make an appearance later this morning and allow me some time to tool around in the garage. Hopefully, anyway. When I head out to the wine store I’d like to visit the hardware emporium, too, yet most of the time when I drive over the hill I end up wrapping up the trip quickly in order to return here where I am most comfortable. Today may be the same. I don’t know yet. I’ll try. Being out of the house for a while may help to alleviate the anger which built up last night. I was ready to pull the trigger on some enormous studio monitors for blasting music at even higher, more clear levels than I already do while in a bad mood. Now? I don’t feel so strongly. This is mostly sadness and frustration, meaning the angry situation is not likely to come about today.
1140. The imaginary situation has not left my head for a second. I finished most of the daily routine and have the next few hours to myself, for whatever that may be worth. But... I keep thinking of questions and answers; possibilities and dreamy comfort. Over and over my brain is going through permutations of the most incredibly wondrous motions and eye contact. Running away has been in my head, as well. Anything to help distract my mind from such strong feelings. I can’t stop seeing that face so close to mine. Right there. The only positive to come out of all those considerations this morning is the idea of actually getting the hell out of here for my birthday. Running away is not in the cards unless I experience some kind of very unlikely windfall, so a trip in January may be my only hope for skipping town. I have a little more housework left. The gangsters have been keeping me company. I don’t believe even the lovely Jamie can shake loose the desperate needs and scenes playing out over and over inside me. All I have to do is make it through the next few hours until evening. I just have to make it. Ooh-fa. There are VERY specific images in my head right now. This is bad. I have to drive over the hill to the wine store in a bit, but I’m not worried about what I may see in that place because the other one is governing my internal slide show. There is quite literally no comparison. 1438. Everything has been finished, including a quick trip to the wine store. I went straight there and back in the interest of saving myself some grief. Still, the one in my head last night remains in control of my thinking. I was not in the store for more than five minutes thanks to an online order having been pulled and ready. In; out; hello; goodbye. I keep seeing that face over and over no matter where I am or what I’m doing. At least the chores are out of the way. There is willpower inside and I have no clue as to the source. There is going to be another ‘recognizer’ very soon. Menacing, overpowering, and unrelenting. Nothing like the last one. Well, another strike to my senses took place and further inflamed the dreams. Now they are larger than life and swirling through my head once again. I cannot believe something like this has developed so late in life. Very unexpected, especially considering the proximity of the dreams to what took place in my head two months ago. I am hoping some time will pass before anything else comes along to floor me all over again. Cocktail hour is nearly at hand. I am still watching the gangsters but may switch to Christmas programming very soon. Believe it or not, I must rise and cross the room in order to change the volume right now. The remote for my home theatre receiver was doused in wine earlier. The spill happened on the heels of the strike and a vision from beyond the netherworld. I was shaken and moved back to the sofa to grab this machine when my arm tipped the cup and caused a spill. I then had to move furniture and do a thorough cleaning of the floor. The remote is in pieces after disassembly and a similar cleaning. Once dry, I can return it to my right and be in full control once again. The vision caused the entire event but I am not upset about it. I’d rather see than not. That is a ridiculous statement, of course, but perhaps not coming from yours truly. Seeing can be worth the difficulties. The gangsters are still on my big television. I might switch later, but for now I need to avoid the possibility of seeing some gorgeous woman in those fucking pants. Watching Lyndsy move across the screen yesterday was plenty, not to mention something else before my desperate, distorted eyes. And speaking of distorted, I can’t even begin to describe the shit flowing through me during the last few days. I can’t say what happened, either. Believe me, I wish I could share it all here and possibly learn from the experience, but the downside remains too dangerous. 0746 in the morning and my head has already descended into the pants of the woman in this movie. That is just fucking peachy, don’t you think? The situation does not take long to develop, ever. Well, if I am in a really bad mood to begin with, the feelings don’t move in such a direction. I changed to the other Christmas movie channel for a little while. Maybe I’ll put on the gangsters and save myself (somewhat). This day is wide open to whatever I feel may be best. The usual stuff will not take long, meaning I’ll have some wide-open hours later. I am not having an easy time of it this morning, though. Both yesterday and the day before held difficulties that will not ease up as of yet. I keep seeing the imagery over and over, all adorable and soft. I made it through well yesterday despite a third and then fourth strike (minor stuff) and rolled into the evening just fine. Sometimes my mind calculates that I don’t have any choice if I am to continue with this lifestyle and I move along as if nothing is out of order. Last night was the same, meaning I chose to be as comfortable as possible and construct the blockade so my mood could not be read by anyone. I stayed on the sofa and tried to let everything fade prior to hitting the pillow. Today will be much the same minus the trip to the wine store. The dreams are in my head pretty fucking deep, though. Deep enough to surface every few minutes (!) and attempt to derail my thinking. I’ll have to remain vigilant and push my way toward the afternoon. Where is the damned train? Wow... This one went all the way around the world and never found a topic. Splendid. I need to get that fucking image out of my brain or I’ll never effectively explore any other issue. Damn. Maybe I’ll throw away a bunch of shit today. I don’t know. I wish that first dream had not taken place. I’m certain it led to the third (the WORST) and my increasing feelings for the subject of all three. This is the toughest crap to work out in years. I have my own difficulty in searching for something that is probably not real, I ran into the woman who I believe is actually ‘her’ and suffered for it, but lately I suppose that shit is not bad enough. There just had to be another level to the pain in the form of more impossibilities all piled up with a fucking cherry on top. I didn’t need that stuff. Now? Not a minute passes without me seeing those hands again. Shit. And depending upon which historic prodigal therapist one may follow, the dream could have been wishful thinking or completely beyond my control, or even as far as a shit ton of suppressed feelings floating along a river of denial. Take your pick. The fact is I am having more and more difficulty recovering from any incident, and much more than just weeks ago. The dreams and strikes are quickening my downfall and I am powerless to change such a circumstance. Long and short of it. I don’t need any sort of train analogy for this shit to be clear. You’d think that the idea of actually suspecting that someone I already knew in life could be ‘her’ would be the most overwhelming situation imaginable. To a certain extent, it is. The problem arose a few days ago and forced my head to shift and focus upon the dreams again. There is so much power there that the other one – the possible, actual ‘her’ – has been on the back burner, much like the train. As soon as the second and third dreams came along I knew that reality was going to be a huge problem. I fucking knew it in my heart. And? The trouble developed just as I had predicted, and even worse in some ways. I wish I could say why. Part of me needs to scream at the top of my lungs and get the shit out there. Another part knows that a single word to anyone would most likely result in my life becoming infinitely more difficult than it is right now. Maybe I've grown too intelligent to recklessly throw a lifestyle into the dumpster as I did in the past. Now I just think about everything without end. A few terms have been popping into my head during the last few months and should be addressed. I really don’t know what to say, though. I’ve tried to equate the feelings in my head to certain situations from the past and reconcile them with what has taken place during this most difficult of years, one in particular...
'Infatuation or being smitten is the state of being carried away by an unreasoned passion, usually towards another person for whom one has developed strong romantic feelings. Psychologist Frank D. Cox says that infatuation can be distinguished from romantic love only when looking back on a particular case of being attracted to a person. Infatuation may also develop into a mature love. Goldstein and Brandon describe infatuation as the first stage of a relationship before developing into a mature intimacy. Whereas love is "a warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion to another person", infatuation is "a feeling of foolish or obsessively strong love for, admiration for, or interest in someone or something", a shallower "honeymoon phase" in a relationship. Dr. Ian Kerner, a sex therapist, states that infatuation usually occurs at the start of relationships, and is "...usually marked by a sense of excitement and euphoria, and it's often accompanied by lust and a feeling of newness and rapid expansion with a person". Phillips describes how the illusions of infatuations inevitably lead to disappointment when learning the truth about a lover. Adolescents often make people an object of extravagant, short-lived passion or temporary love.'
I honestly don’t know if that applies, although I can’t deny the resulting emotions mentioned at the end of the third observation below. I just don’t know what to think now. Strictly speaking, some of it does an excellent job of outlining much of what I have said recently. There is no denying the negative power of being in this type of position, yet at the same time, there are still positives to being alone and yearning for something impossible. Aside from demonstrating damaging or reckless behavior (I know all about it because my past is riddled with such actions), all I do much of the time is sit here and attempt to convey everything that is working so hard on my emotional condition. My analysis on the site hurts nothing and no one. I have kept everything locked up inside, and whether or not it has had a detrimental effect upon my well-being, no one else is involved. That’s a big positive. Another is the fact that no matter how far beneath the soil I reside (in my head), I am still going... Still trying to understand everything. That is another upside. And there is Oksana with that long, dark hair and her amazingly stretched features. Jesus. There you go... Another sight which pulls my attention away from what is so important. Marvelous. I do not feel ‘love’ for the subject of the damaging dreams. I do feel it for the other one... The woman I suspect may actually be ‘her’. The emotions when considering her face run very deep. The girl in the dreams is different. Unfortunately, I can only say so much about that person due to possible backlash. I really don’t want or need any guff from people. The pile of shit which has me overly frustrated much of the time is the fact that I am only acquainted with both, nothing more, and the future shows me no possible reciprocation. Such knowledge is an enormous downside to the way I feel right now. The apple cart, remember? I can’t throw everything to the four winds for what is by definition the slimmest of chances. I just can’t fucking do it, love or otherwise. The infatuation has a better shot at fading away over time. At least I understand that much.
'Unrequited love or one-sided love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved. The beloved may not be aware of the admirer's deep and pure affection, or may consciously reject it. The Merriam Webster Online Dictionary defines unrequited as "not reciprocated or returned in kind". Psychiatrist Eric Berne states in his book "Sex in Human Loving" that "Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner." However, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche contends that "indispensable... To the lover is his unrequited love, which he would at no price relinquish for a state of indifference." Unrequited love stands in contrast to redamancy, the act of reciprocal love. The inability of the unrequited lover to express or declare their love often leads to negative feelings such as depression, low self-esteem, anxiety and rapid mood swings between depression and euphoria.'
Sound familiar? 0952. Lots of shit in my head right now. Not Oksana and her long, slender legs. Other stuff. The dreams, infatuation... Love? I don’t know. Maybe that word doesn’t matter because I am in no position to explore it and should do nothing more than type it from time to time. In the real world, I have no clue as to how I could change anything right now and expect improvement. All I can do is write and think. That rhymes with ‘drink’. Sounds good, huh? 1026. I have a bit of the routine finished but my brain is too preoccupied right now for continuing. I cannot say why, but trust me... None of it is good. I don’t deal well with impossible conundrums, and my current dilemma holds the record for being the worst. I’ve seen things which force me to question the past and the way I feel about the fairer sex. My feelings are such that I can’t move around the house for five fucking minutes without being interrupted by either pain or sadness. When the routine seems like an uphill battle, something has to change. But what? I keep seeing those situations over and over and then dream of many years ago and where I was, eventually falling down again and again to then find myself back at square one. I may never be in that place again. What a fucking thought. I need a brain replacement. Memories gone, imagery removed, permanent changes to the way I think... All of it. A complete redo. I don’t want to think this way anymore but have zero choice. The more I try to push it away, the more the thoughts supplant anything I attempt. I hate this shit. 1154 and now the routine is halfway finished. The kitchen will not take long, so I’ll wait until after lunch and have everything polished. I also moved some living room furniture so the floor could be cleaned. And there is Saundra and her big eyes, all dark and gorgeous. Jesus, did I ever want to climb inside her bra for years. That woman is pretty fucking tall, too. Lots to gaze at and explore, lines and those places where they lead. Damn, what a fucking beauty. Ugh. I need some fucking help, right fucking now. Lots of swearing, eh? This is only the beginning. I have the office pretty well set up for the new desktop system, yet still no machine. I am hesitant to spend the money after acquiring twin monitors and the chair. Funny, only the computer itself is absent from the table. Maybe after the new year I can pick it up. Once the chair arrives, I’ll set up this machine and connect to one monitor. I can also use the new keyboard at that time. The model I picked out is literally the cat’s meow of desktop input devices. Awesome. Soon I’ll be in there with blasting music and alcohol to inhibit clear thinking like years ago. One thought that comes to mind often is that entry from the summer of seventeen when I thought I was going out of my fucking head due to the issues. Well, here we are five years later – a long respite notwithstanding – and much worse off for the passage of time. I cannot comment further. Leave it to Adriana to smoke a cigarette just prior to a tennis lesson. Heh.
The terms above are tattooed all over my brain like so many images of the past. I don’t know what to make of all this, however. Infatuation? Naturally. I believe it happens more often than not, and all over the world. Love? I don’t even know what the word means. It represents a connection that could very well be different for everyone who speaks of it. Their feelings could be radically different from mine. I will never know. The word is analogous to color, honestly. I see a stoplight that is red, but what I see as red may be what others see as blue. Understand? We all call it the same color but it could appear different to anyone looking. There is no way to know the truth... Not even with testing. Well, as far as I understand it, anyway. Uh oh, there is Noah. Yikes. He was an elitist ass, yet none of his personality merits the massive and degrading pile of shit that Tony throws his way. Whatever. I have other fish... Holy Jesus God in a blue sweater is Jamie ever the definition of beauty. Sorry. No I’m not. I love her. I really do. A fictional character, not the actor. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Where to go from here? My typical reaction when the imagery and memories are unwilling to leave my head is anger. I suppose that is natural for a personality that has been painted in tones of control. The title went astray, so I changed it. And then it fell away again, so I changed it. A third change and here we are with an ambiguous title that could mean anything. Fuck it. The anger is building not only due to my inability to follow a line of thinking, but also thanks to the past apathy and those who disregarded or minimized the impact of two specific events which have shaped me over many years into nothing more than an automaton. They are the root cause. Others inflamed and exacerbated such a stance to place me in a cold, damp cavern rife with hatred. This is where everything comes together in a very bad way. I have taken a set. Fuck the time. Everything is finished and I had some lunch with my brain overflowing with thoughts of that third fucking dream. I can’t even go into the kissing from the fourth. Believe me when I say the third took my head and tossed it into a blender. On the heels of that experience? I saw the evidence right before my eyes and not four feet away. Right there. I was in a small space despite being near several other people. It was my own little world. I heard conversation and whatnot, but didn’t really hear anything except my own inner voice reciting lines of desire that took me so far away from everyone else that they may as well have been in some other universe. My head could not process two plus two. Desire and frustration overtook my senses until hitting the pillow a little while later. Thursday morning, the eighth of December. The obsession has been flaring for some weeks now, and I believe the trigger was that girl walking the kids some time ago. On her heels was the other one walking the cute dog. There have been others, but suffice to say that the Christmas movies are not helping. I have to see, though. I HAVE to see them because the chances of admiring the most stirring lines in the universe cannot be passed along by yours truly. I just have to see if the lines are along the lines. Don’t ask. Between Lyndsy the other day and all of the others since then, my head is completely fucked and I can barely follow along with any story playing out. Right now, for example, there is another Brooke on the screen and I keep asking that the camera angle change just enough for me to see some of her form. Here and there, I catch a glimpse, yet nothing is ever enough. The lines drive other thoughts forcefully and continue until I can’t fucking stand it. This is not a good morning. Brooke looks better and better as time passes. I worsen with every second of it. She is just one of far too many. The problem is those other thoughts can’t be fucking stopped. Nothing affects them short of some kind of emergency or other shit. The flare is so bad right now that the lines are overwhelming and painful, yet no matter how bad I feel, there is not one fucking thing I can do about any of it. I just keep dreaming and becoming angrier. I am like a powderkeg that will not explode when lit. The result of everything is nothing more than one tiny person sitting here miserable. There is a whole world out there and none of it matters. I’m in a terrible spot right now. Last night was the same. I kept watching to see how the story played out, all the while dreaming of things better left out of this content. I found a huge pair of eyes and yearned to see them up close, not to mention her beautiful gait that I desperately needed to follow. Her image is down the page. The blonde. No sooner did she express some emotion through her face and eyes when I connected her structure to that of Wendy all the way back during the eighties. I could not believe the match once my head equated one to the other, and keep in mind that I have not thought about Wendy for a very long time. The correlation drove me insane and I began to have feelings for the beautiful face I was seeing last night. That is the level of desperation I’ve achieved. I wanted to stare for a while and then be wrapped up in her arms for the rest of my life. This is so fucking pathetic that I am embarrassed to type the words. So broken. I switched over to HBO a few minutes ago to save myself some fucking yearning. This has been a very bad flare. I probably should have expected it after watching those movies last season. The imagery was already in my brain thanks to what I’ve seen close to home and while out shopping, and adding movies only increases heartache. And the other situation... Those dreams from months ago. I honestly don’t have the first clue as to how I’ve been living each day and breathing through this shit without completely losing my mind and causing distress for those who know me. Maybe I’m just a nice person. The other possibility could be that I am a fucking wizard capable of altering myself into other forms so that people cannot read anything, nor can they have any idea of the pain inside. Another one? Maybe I’ve become so adept at hiding everything out of a sense of shame or fear that I no longer see the level of insanity involved in doing so. I am an expert at misleading people, so perhaps the ability to falsify my appearance in any situation came naturally. There is no second choice, anyway. The flare is creating sentences inside that I can’t repeat here or to another person. I’ll be labeled. I will feel ashamed of myself. And this fucking bullshit is not entirely my fault. Much less, actually. Believe it. Despite the difficulties and dreams that fly through me at high speed while watching the holiday films, I will continue to do so regardless of the pain. I’m going to feel it anyway; may as well sit here and admire the most elusive beauty in existence. There was a guest star last night whose form showed through some very smooth jeans, believe it or not. Jeans. I caught a glimpse of the lines actually diverging and lost my mind. Just another fucking tidbit of shit to emphasize my insanity over beauty and the way I consider such things. Splendid. I just don’t understand anymore. Maybe I never did and should have ceased the effort when that shit essay was published five years ago. Five fucking years. I was very unhappy then. Just think of how such a condition has progressed, and then consider the difficulty in holding back a tidal wave of anger just to ensure no one around me becomes uncomfortable. Isn’t that just wonderful? My mood is going down, down, and down some more. A hammer swing may be the only way to relax later today. Later the same day. I have the routine finished and helped my neighbor perform a repair on his air compressor. I also rolled over to the goddess market for a few items. No problems there aside from what is already swirling in my head. There is a nice, big cocktail to my right, like every day. And here we go with Christmas movie number one for the day. Right out of the fucking gate there is a beauty. Figures. I have yet to become pissy enough to swing the hammer, plus if I did I’d probably freeze out there in the garage. Other parts of the country get much colder than here, yet after decades of being acclimated to the weather, below fifty is not conducive to spending time outside in the breeze. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming in later today. Rain and wind, I guess. I’ll have to remain indoors for the duration. There is plenty to keep me busy in here without flipping my cork. I nearly did that prior to shopping because I felt completely imprisoned by problems and there was no key to be found. I did learn something, though. Sometimes when I drive up the highway there is loud music playing. Lately, I’ve been listening to the news and it keeps my head from following the sad subject matter of some of my favorite songs. I did the same this morning and returned a tad mellow as opposed to my departure. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Watching the lovely Mallory the other night followed by TWO movies featuring Ashley was a trial, not to mention Lyndsy right on the heels of the others. Lyndsy was the toughest, to be honest. So tough, in fact, that there were moments when I dashed outside for a cigarette because I thought my head was going to come apart. I have never felt so fucking frustrated and desperate in my life. That is not an overstatement by any means. This is worsening as the days and visions pass, not to mention those fucking dreams and related strikes that force me to paint pictures I cannot describe here. Some help would be nice, although I already know it will cause nothing more than increased bad moods and concern. I know it by rote. I am still watching these two channels regardless of the inherent and inescapable examples of the obsession, one after the other. I just don’t know what the fuck to do about this condition. I made a connection in my brain when standing before that woman a few weeks ago and can’t do anything about it. She will never know of the feelings or realization. To this very second, I have avoided going into detail about exactly what that connection entails. I do not believe revealing such an enormous event here is going to solve anything, either. My head continues to see the downhill rather than any upside, and what happens as a result is I keep going back to the glow. I do it whenever the current period fails to measure up to anything comfortable. Dreams invade and drag down whatever mood I happen to experience upon awakening and then leave me so desperate that I don’t know what to say or do. The movies show me bits and pieces of the obsession, in turn driving my head into places where there can be no reality. Sometimes I see a woman out there in society and return to my car angry and then beat my head against the steering wheel because I am no one in the grand scheme and my needs are meaningless in the world. Just imagine the realization mentioned above and how much it has added to the pile of shit inside me. Someone needs to shut me the fuck down. There is no other way. As usual, this is going nowhere, nor is it helping me. Belief to the contrary is misinformed. Period. No one knows... What happens if I run out of things to say? Or worse, what if I already did? Like, say, five years ago after publishing that pivotal essay and felt as if I had been residing inside a glass case and permanently separated from people? I have been railroading the same ideas and observations since the outset of the pandemic. What does that mean? Nothing else to say? Have I been finished here for years? IS ANYONE GOING TO ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS? Nope. There is nothing I can do about anything, so the keyboard is the victim. I’ve already replaced it twice. I’m sure there will be a third occasion after one of the keys becomes worn or stops operating properly. The keyboard is the listener. There is nothing else in the world. I feel like shit right now. As long as the depression doesn’t flare as bad as other parts of me, the days will continue to roll past like those dioramas in the tunnel. I believe I’ve seen this movie. The weather is coming. Is everything unfair? No, not at all. The situation simply ‘is’. I bumped my head on the microwave/hood last night making one of my favorite meals and there is still a sensitive spot. Damn. This woman in the movie continues to become more beautiful. Does that matter? Does she matter? Do my feelings matter? Switch. Purchasing music with the phone is WAY too easy. Heh. This is all so fucking bad now. Running out of reasons to say anything, running out of interest in my typical daily activities, and worse, running out of feeling good when I rise from bed in the morning. On many occasions I’ve pointed out that something bad is going to happen. I feel it more than ever. I feel it right now. The obsession has driven me insane for too long. It has also driven my head further in recent years than in the past when I felt nothing more than a mere fascination with numbers. The numbers can never be enough. Some of the most difficult and painful situations have combined in a very negative way and have begun to show me just how black my future is. Black. Bleak. Damned. I turned off the Christmas movie and went back to the gangsters. They never steer me wrong, nor do I have dreams about any details which come along from time to time. I have only dreamed of Jamie and I being together, nothing more. I’m sure I’ll dream of her again but there is nothing I can do about my subconscious. If I blow up my feelings here, the dreams will come. If I say nothing about her, the dreams will still come. More black. This has been a real nice fucking clambake. Do you see that I've gone nowhere in five years? Nowhere. A bit of laundry and a few sounds. One of them grabbed my attention for a few seconds and nearly knocked me off my feet. The dryer required me to regain my composure and try to let the visions fall away. Those damaging dreams have the power to draw me like a gun no matter what I may be doing. I was pulled into her nether regions and a massive fantasy for the tenth time. Sometimes while I am busy, my mind wanders and I become captivated by all things impossible. Believe me, there is no application for the word ‘improbable’. Not in that case. On the minuscule upside, while the laundry was running I ventured to the kitchen and made a pile of pancakes for a few quick breakfasts in the coming days. Once the laundry was rotated, I polished the kitchen for the second time. Dinner preparations shall commence in two hours. Still productive? Yes, despite the gaping hole in my being. The gangsters have been following along; the third season violence being apparent. I’m used to it. That girl enters my head every fucking day no matter what else may be happening or however busy I may be. None of that matters. The sheer weight of those dreams point to the fact that I cannot discuss them with anyone, ever, plus they take over my head often enough to force the realization that no matter how fucked up I may feel, things are actually much worse. Isn’t that just a nice bowl of flowers? Fuck. Friday morning. I should not be watching this movie. Both Ashley Newbrough and Christa Allen on the screen at the same time and forcing me to continually ask questions that cannot be answered. Huge, beautiful eyes, sweeping smiles, and more questions. This is not good first thing in the morning. I don’t need any more shit in my head, but at the same time I am the one making the decision to watch these movies each year. God damn, Christa is a segment of beauty rivaled by very few. At least the early business is finished and I can relax a while before moving further. Too much in my head. This hurts. All I do is think, day in and day out, sit here with the keyboard and then go through the motions. This is no sort of life... Not for anyone. I believe in these late days that I am too far gone to recover. Much too far away, distorted and forcibly altered from who I once was. Ashley and Christa are dressed as elves. Jesus fucking shit hell, anyway. No recovery. Perhaps the time is nigh to cease all efforts in being happy or comfortable. Do you have a better fucking idea?
The sun may shine on the house in a little while. Maybe if the garage warms up I can exercise my diminishing mood. I really need to lash out in whatever direction feels satisfying, but at the same time I know lashing will not accomplish anything good. Nothing will change. I’ll come out the other side exactly the same as I am right now, if not a touch worse. The only positive is feeling a tiny measure of freedom and control right in the middle of the shit. Are they real? No one can know, but my money is on ‘no’. I almost constantly need to fucking scream at someone, but who? Does anyone deserve such an attack? Nope. Not even a little. I can’t do anything but exercise my mood through whatever (sort of) reckless behavior, and then everything comes right back and my mood and future fall away once more. There is a girl in this ridiculous commercial that I desperately need to devour. I don’t know why. Anyway, my shit mood notwithstanding, whatever else takes place during business hours today, the sunshine will help. I just wish I could affect change in something... ANYTHING. I would give anything to surf across her lips for one fucking minute. Anything. This is only going to worsen over time. The situation is pretty fucking bad if I would trade away the Passion for something so seemingly simple. Nice. All I do is go through the motions day after day whether I decide to work outside the house or remain here. Going through the motions. Christa’s jeans are a map of the obsession. Ugh. I will refrain from speaking about her mouth. Anyway, this kind of life is not only wrought with internal issues, but can spread to other people very easily. I can’t have that. Even if those around me are pains in my ass and I don’t like them, I still cannot be unfair. The result? Even more feelings shoved into the back closet of my head, completely inaccessible to people. I am doing my best to avoid being cunty toward anyone. Those who know me can read the shit without a word, believe me. They are aware of my stupid tirades that accomplish nothing more than annoying others. I am helpless here. The daily motions may be all I have left. Everything else has become tertiary and blurry. I see pieces of life falling away each day, memories slicing me to ribbons, and the future appearing darker with each passing thought. I have to embrace the motions because I don’t know what else to do. Do me a favor and give me another option. 0842. The quiet is only broken by the television. Last cup of coffee. Christa’s fucking lips are amazing to see. Big fucking surprise, eh? What a basket case. And Ashley’s jaw breaks one of the visage rules of the past. I never really liked a squared jawline, but she is unreal. The same happened with Mallory two weeks ago. Square jaw. Well, that may be changing unless the reason is other features lending to a softening of the line. I don’t know. Basket case. The office is awaiting money. I failed to repair the drone, so it just sits there. I put my truck back into the display case prior to Halloween and it has remained idle. I have a project of a wooden holder for my two most-used power tools and their batteries, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing I was going to do out there feels pressing in the least. Yesterday I did the laundry and dry cleaning, so today is literally wide open to whatever seems best, but what is that? What is best? Can I even do anything besides wallow in unhappiness? I don’t see the rails changing direction. I don’t see positives. Something has to change, yet at the same time, what can change? My attitude? Good luck. I am this way for good reason. What else can change? Let go of the difficult past? I don’t think so, 'rolyaT'. I remember Ashley from the last two holiday seasons, but this year she appears infinitely more beautiful. I don’t know why, however there is an inkling... I am far more out of balance and far more desperate than even one year ago, hence those over whom I gushed last season look even better now. I have been more vocal, too. That is an example of weakness. I speak too much about beauty and the effects upon me, and to gush about such things is fucking weak. I am not proud of myself right now. That lucky fuck just kissed Christa’s big, beautiful lips. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I am in a much worse condition inside compared to a year ago. I felt pretty fucking bad back then, too. Or at least I thought I did. Maybe I should be dead. Jamie is so far off the scale of cute that sometimes I yearn to jump into the television and ask her to hold me. Everything could melt away... Impossible... The word of my life. 1045. Housework is finished unless I decide to go further like yesterday. Nothing dramatic, but maybe some cleaning of the floor under furniture. Right now I have to take a break with my buddy in the glass. All morning I have had imagery and memories plaguing my mind to the point of nearly losing it. The hammer swing may yet take place. I don’t know. Nothing changes. ‘No flies in the whiskey’ did not hold up. There was a fly in the glass, damn it. Well, a drunken fly. The rest of this day is as of yet unknown. Once the drink is gone, I have tons of options, including the hammer swing. Right now I just don’t know, though. My mood changes with the second hand on the clock. There are things I would like to accomplish, although depression has the ability to remove any ambition and force activities to become uninteresting. I am depressed, no shit, so the days when I accomplish very little tend to be the norm. Those times when I break out of the din and push toward some goal around the house stand out. There is Annabella and her amazing form (at just over forty years of age, no less). Unfortunately, her character is a complete whack job and in dire need of more than psychiatric care. Such a fact ruins the appearance. The woman is stunning and her ability as an actor is beyond fantastic. I always remember... If you hate the character, the actor is effective. I don’t hate her character, yet the negatives overshadow her vast beauty. Where was I? Ah... Today’s work. I may not do a fucking thing with the next several hours other than put on some music and fiddle with details. My surge protector arrived this morning. I can mount it on the underside of the desk so it is ready for the new desktop system. That is a good step toward the goal. Once my chair arrives – I believe it will be here on Tuesday – I can move this machine to the office and get everything running. The desktop computer is still up in the air. I am pleased that the laptop serves its purpose well. The scene with James and Annabella at the zoo is wholly disgusting and I typically skip through it just to avoid cringing. It just ended, thank the maker. Ugh. Rain is forecasted for this evening and tomorrow. I’m glad I treated the perimeter of the house yesterday after helping with the air compressor. We have had no invasions for well over a year due to my diligence with the treatment outside. I just have to maintain the process. 1406. I disassembled the surge protector (not recommended unless you REALLY know what you’re doing) and mounted it securely to a section of plywood. Those units generally have holes for sliding the back onto two screw heads, but historically I’ve found that such a method does not hold up over time. Very few surge protectors have mounting ears, so I did it my way. Everything is awaiting my attention in the office. In a little while I need to drive over to the bar to pick up a payment for all the work I did throughout the last few weeks. That money will greatly help the holiday experience. I like to give gifts. Other than the little trip north, I will be here pondering the way of the world. I am not happy with the current period, but as the mighty Jem’Hadar always say, ‘It is the WAY of things’. I can’t disagree. I just wish I had their natural power. Still no train. Fuck it. Everything is just shit now. I tried remaining in the garage longer than the time it took to modify the surge strip, but to no avail. I even washed a blanket and cut up some boxes for recycling in order to extend the time. The garage is just not blowing my skirt up today, music or otherwise. The problem is being overly preoccupied with the issues in my head and the scant nature of the way my life has been for the last year-plus. If I can’t resolve or rationalize my feelings, nothing will make any fucking difference. Not even the little routine and other tidbits around the house. I cannot easily push things away and direct my attention elsewhere after all these years since the first essay. That felt like a turning point of sorts, yet here I am five fucking years later, much further down in the soil, and feeling even further from comfort. I wouldn’t know inner peace if the word was tattooed backwards on my forehead. The mirror would probably lie anyway. What a fucking mess. I keep dreaming and dreaming – likely part of the problem, to be honest – and then sitting here wondering ‘why’ things must be this way. Pain, torment... Twin thieves robbing me of the solace I so badly need each day. The prospect of my future being more of the same is very unpleasant and may force my hand. God damn does that first image of Tara ever look like Wendy, the type of visage unequaled in my experience. Tara is the first woman to resemble one of the first loves of my life, and she is so close that watching the movie the other night drove me up the damned wall. There is something about the relationship between her nose and mouth that screams Wendy. That is the first time I was ever enamored with a facial feature, but keep in mind Wendy carried two disparate features that I have yet to see in combination on another face. I have an image of her from more than thirty years ago which shows off everything. Anyway, I was caught off-guard when Tara produced that adorable, crooked smile and I made the connection. Unreal, both of them. Now, if I could just... Ugh. Sometimes I see where this is going and other times the future is completely black, meaning I can't see anything. Maybe those two options are not mutually exclusive, I don’t know. What I do know is that each day I do what I do around the house, recall good things that cannot return, consider those fucking dreams that will not loose the strangle hold on my mind, and then watch movies with all manner of beauty and sheer fascination regarding dimensional passion and the obsession. The visions lead me to bad places, just as at the pool all those years ago. This is what I do every fucking day. The only difference between the holiday season and the rest of the year is the movies are absent. In this day and age, with technology as it is, I can literally watch anything, anytime. I choose to wait for the last two months of the year so as to avoid wearing out the image of Christmas, however. Believe me, I would love to see some of those actors in all their splendor day in and day out. I will be just the same either way. Looking forward to what used to be my least favorite day of the year – January the second – nothing seems changeable. I will do the same chores and activities, work on whatever seems pleasant or interesting in the garage, watch my football games, and in the end all I will be doing is watching the clock and calendar advance to the fucking grave. Annabella’s midsection is void of anything that should not be there. Jesus, at her age? That is some fucking work and dedication, people. Anyway, I don’t see the beginning of the new year as I did while working full-time. Now it is just a line and increasing numbers, not the least of which is my birthday shortly thereafter. As of yet I’ve been a champion of shoving everything aside and making nice. I cannot guarantee such an ability will continue for much longer. One tidbit: The beginning of the year is the 'bleach box'. Chew on that. The future? The ‘eyes’. More chewing. 1602. I just returned from my meeting near the bar. Now I have cash from the last few weeks of work, plus a plan to work again for at least a day next week. Very good. This may help to facilitate the desktop system. The drive was uneventful but I was scanning like always. The search never ends. Now I have a Christmas movie on with none other than the lovely Autumn and her unique facial features. Damn it all, anyway. I have to see her for all the pain it may cause. I just have to see. Don’t ask about what I’m thinking when I see her leggings. Everything is bad these days. The Christmas movies shall rule the dial for the duration today. I’m going to feel like shit anyway; may as well gaze upon the genetic flukes of the world. Autumn is toward the top of the heap. Believe it or not, those I've mentioned here are far more beautiful than the tall models over whom I once obsessed as they gazelled along the runway. Crazy. I am so fucked up that the more I think about it, the more I sit here in complete disbelief. I’m not kidding. I fail to understand how the present has become such a fucking wreck as opposed to the past. I was not expecting this shit. Oh, there were thoughts inside due to the past, but not this bad. I mean... Jesus fucking Christ. Something has to happen, but what? Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? That’s what I thought. There is weather coming in again, possibly this evening. That means my Saturday will be spent indoors. Maybe I’ll watch these movies all day long and experience pieces of my brain fall away like wet cake as I sit completely helpless. What a wondrous idea. Oh, God... Autumn is something else. Those are the definition of ‘doe eyes’. Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I need to lick her lips. I'll stop right there. You don't want more. Anyway, I can work in the office a while and then do whatever else may seem appealing. I will wallow in the morning like always, rise and get ready to work on the routine with a fat glass of depressant, and then everything will become minimized and I’ll stand in the middle of the living room wondering what to do. That is a given. At some point I will grab this computer and type whatever I am feeling (most likely gushing about some actor on the fucking television and my inability to be where I need) and then try to move around and find something which needs attention. Splendid, eh? This is all so fucking stupid anymore. The titles don’t matter, the words all run together and repeat, and then I get up in the morning and do it all again. What’s the fucking point? I mentioned the weather. That doesn’t really matter, either. I will be exactly the same despite the fucking jetstream. And then there is Autumn again. She has no clue as to my sheer level of worship. In the long run she’s better off. No one needs to be affected by my distorted mind. Saturday morning, 0647. Holy crap it’s windy outside. I have to take care of the morning business shortly. Afterward I plan to sit here and contemplate everything. The housework will be as planned, too, because the weather is going to preclude any garage work unless the doors remain closed. I could go out there and draw the outline for my last mural, though. That needs to be done with the door down and lights on. We shall see how I feel. Also, I received notice that my chair delivery date moved up from Tuesday all the way to Saturday. That is very good. I’ll be able to set everything in motion. I need to clean the floor in there and then mount the power strip. I’ll move this machine into the office for some display testing. I am looking forward to operating my little computer empire once again. The table originally moved more than two years ago, I believe, so that is how long the desktop system has been down. My intention was to keep the editing mobile all the time just in case the shit hit the fan and I had to run. Well, that's not going to happen. I have to stay here. Running away and lavishing in the manner I need requires so much money that it may never take place again. Ugh. 0839. The wind outside is incredible. I keep looking at the big tree in the front yard and have been concerned about it coming down or fracturing for some time, probably ever since the neighbor’s tree across the street came out the other side of a storm leaning to the tune of thirty degrees. Not good. It was removed some days later due to blocking their walkway. I really hope the wind lets up soon because the tree to which I refer is actually a heritage, planted some seventy years ago. I’d hate to see it harmed. The weather is far beyond anyone’s control, though. Wait and see.
She reminds me so much of Wendy
This morning has been difficult. I am tired of saying that. 1016. Failure. Strain. My chair arrived so I ventured to the garage – only the big door open due to the wind and rain – and assembled the whole thing with a cocktail and my friends in the background. I’ll tell you... Installing televisions in the kitchen and garage has been a Godsend. I can have my necessary comfort no matter where I may be working. And the chair? Fantastic. I’ll bring it in the house when the weather eases a bit. I have half the routine finished, as well. The kitchen sits idle. I will take care of it after a break. I needed to get off my feet for a little while. Wow, the weather is crazy right now. I sure miss the sunshine, although the entire state of California really needs the water. 1342 and I ran out of gas. The surge protector is mounted and I connected this laptop to one of the monitors to test everything. Success. That means once I acquire the desktop machine everything will be ready. Very nice. I also cut up and tossed the chair packaging into the recycle bin for tomorrow. Holy Jesus shit fuck... There she is with the huge, sweet eyes and hair framing the most beautiful face in the world. Damn it all. I may as well go back to the Christmas movies for a different type of strain. Both are so very bad. Anyway, after caring for the garage and office, I didn’t know what else to do, so here I sit for the fifth time today. Sunday morning. What does that mean? I don’t know. This entry went off the rails a couple of weeks ago. I guess I’m losing my way again because I have no idea of what to say. God damn does Candace have some legs. Whatever. Sunday morning is usually nice and quiet because there is no sound other than me until much later. I have uninterrupted time throughout the morning, the tree glowing to my right and a Christmas movie up there on the big television. I am hoping to remain a little bit positive after yesterday went to shit. Am I concerned? Somewhat. There is no way of altering my situation, meaning whatever takes place one day does not necessarily need to destroy me. I’ve been trying to keep my head on as straight as possible lately, nothing more. Bethany will be on the screen for the next two hours and is wearing an a-line dress. Damn. So, today... I will probably sit here for the next two-plus hours and then take care of the quick half of the routine. The kitchen will follow along with a cocktail. The early football game will be on, too. The important game is once again in the afternoon, so I can have everything finished prior to kickoff. There is an Asian hybrid girl in the background with amazing lips. Anyway, by the time the football is kicked, I will probably be half in the bag and a mental wreck. I don’t see possible improvement on the horizon. This is straining my relationship with life. This morning I recalled the fact that I never revealed the resemblance. I saw that woman for a few minutes and was slapped in the face by the connection, realized that the woman is ‘her’ for all intents and purposes, and then gushed about the event for a little while. I never added the name, though. Heh. You’re just going to have to live with my choice of keeping it to myself. I don’t want the information out there; not right now. There is enough strain inside without adding something which may invite comments. I’ll just have to leave it alone for the time being. Damn. Bethany’s dress... Now she is wearing a very short, leather skirt. In Winter? In the snow? Why do they costume actors in such a manner? She has lovely legs, but the scenery would dictate dressing warmer. I don’t even know why I’m trying to take issue with a Christmas movie. Ahh... Now the whole group is outside to look at decorations and Bethany is the only one not dressed warmer. Everyone else is bundled. So ridiculous. Or? Maybe the director is obsessed with lines like I am. Again... Commenting is not going to accomplish anything. The closet doors got me yesterday. They grabbed my psyche and did not let go until I felt like shit. Sometimes the imagery of the past will come along out of the clear, blue sky and slap me upside the face, other times the doors do it. Even rarer is hope for the future, although that one will not only slap me, it will irreparably alter my day’s trajectory to a continuous downward slide right straight into a pit of alcohol and very unpleasant music. The doors grab and let go fairly quickly, whereas the future will hang around until I am nearly ruined. I really don’t like it. I am going to do my best to avoid letting those closet doors punch me in the face today. I have my usual business and that will have to be enough. Holy shit, Bethany just slumped down on a chair, paired her knees, and then slid just enough to reveal a glimpse of her lovely lines. Fuck me in a stocking. She is not helping to keep the imagery at bay. Maybe I should change the channel. And as for the rest, all my strength will be required to avoid a bad situation today. I am already feeling very angry, so I’ll have to keep the effort up all morning. The Christmas movies are going to be short-lived today. All it takes is the right type of glimpse to allow the closet doors to enter my day and choke the life out of any ambition. I am fucking strained enough already. A couple of years ago I wanted to swallow that woman. Sometime later I was content to look at her beautiful eyes. Now? I don’t fucking know, but she is something to see, especially in the skirts with leggings. Gorgeous woman, that one. Let me get away from the gushing. Back to feeling the strain. Holy shit, she is thinner than I recalled earlier. Eh... Shut up. 0749. I am seeing the positive aspects of a Sunday at home. I will have the entertainment of my choice, work at whatever pace feels best, and accomplish everything necessary prior to game time. That thing I was talking about some months ago was on my mind yesterday as a result of feeling the pain of the past. I’ve seen it perhaps twice in my life, but did not think enough to really focus and try to figure it out prior to this year. Well, it may not be something of which I am capable, honestly. I have considered what took place in the past, and the only conclusion is that I did not know why such an occurrence grabbed my attention. Wow, the main character’s sister is a really unpleasant character sometimes. Maybe it’s the facial expressions. I don’t know. Where was I? Ah... Something I have yet to identify. The truth is I can’t figure out how or why such a situation comes along. I really can’t. I’ve thought about it until nearly driving myself nuts, too. Perhaps the best thing to do is just leave it alone right now. This will be difficult because it is a compelling subject and I’ve wondered for some time. Most days I don’t want to know anything about life or the world. All I’ve experienced as a result are periods of loneliness or yearning due to learning about something and then being removed from the possibility by force. The 'thing' to which I referred in this paragraph is very elusive and I don’t even know how to word it in order to find some helpful information. I suppose the suggestion of leaving the subject by the side of the road as often as possible is best. I seem to have zero options, anyway. Fuck it. Maybe I only brought it back to the site because I enjoy typing on this keyboard. I had the music blaring yesterday while cutting up the cardboard. Nothing unpleasant, though. Just some old progressive rock for a little while (the funny part is I only listened to four songs, and due to their penchant for lengthy compositions, those four comprised nearly forty minutes). I wasn’t really feeling the anger as much as I had earlier in the morning. The crushing blow that hit me mid-morning did not want to let go for quite a while and I had to push back. Eventually, I felt a little better, which is to say less shitty and strained. Sometimes Bethany’s facial expressions are super cute, while other times I can catch a glimpse of what she may display while in a bad mood, and it’s pretty fucking scary. ‘Run the other way’ seems to ring in my head when she is close to looking frightening. Heh. Anyway, the music is generally an indication that I am feeling either frustrated or experiencing a lack of control. I built that big system out there so I could lash, and believe me it works well. The control I seem to possess while lashing is, of course, not real. All I am doing is playing music at a high level, nothing more. And it is short-lived, too. Some time after moving out there and blasting, I begin to feel empty because lashing does not change anything. The fucking sad truth is I hold sway over very little in this life, the more important items being far from my grasp. This tiny house and my attitude cannot add up to shit, really. When I become all angry and begin to feel rebellious, nothing happens. I am small, and like those other issues, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The music can keep others away, that’s it. Eventually, I close the doors and move back inside to realize that all I did was waste hours with nothing to show for the time. There is very little I do in life that isn’t fucking stupid. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I must say this brand of Italian roast is not very tasty. At least it was cheap. Is there anything I failed to cover in this long-ass entry? A better question may be, has anything been solved? Nope. All the same crap in different order, or maybe using different terms. I don’t know. What I do know is how I feel and the necessity of avoiding certain thoughts being spelled out. I am completely strained lately. Completely. Fucking. Strained. Between the shit at the job a few weeks ago, those on the street and the others on the television, I am feeling more strained than ever. Pushed. Shoved. Graded aside like so much dirt. Life is enormous and I am realizing that my effectiveness with regard to others is fucking tiny. I matter very little right now, hence all my shit about trying to lash. I don’t have any other avenues through which to express my dissatisfaction. Yes, I realize this is an expression, but why don’t you come knock on my door and explain to me just how much difference this stupid fucking site has made? Do I seem better off than seven years ago when I nearly threw my life into the fucking shitter for the lines? I thought so. I believe that is the reason for my endless, repeating commentary on the related topics of beauty and such. It just never fucking ends. One up, two down. Two up, and dead. Give me two up and I’ll try. There’s an old one for you. Nothing has made a damned bit of difference. Sometimes I see the cycle... Sitting here in the morning and finding enough weakness to describe some woman on the television (meaningless), and then feeling weak and desperate enough to become angry and full of desire, and then moving to the garage and standing there staring at my handiwork while realizing there is no point to my trying to affect change. And then back into the house so my mood can force me back to this machine and the IDE to spew more words (also meaningless). I am seeing the futility of it all, and such a fact is very bad for those who know me personally. I have very little reason to live from day to day. If one of those reasons disappears, I will be one step closer to residing in the soil with the worms. And yes, I keep coming back to that kind of thinking because I have no reason to avoid it. The end may be the only REAL line in my life -- one which is actually possible -- unlike everything else. I have to move away from this right now. I want to lick Bethany’s fucking thighs. My tongue would come out of her nose. Desperate? Yearning? Neither of those matter. I don’t matter. Madder. Fuck you. Shut up. Leave me alone. Fucking stupid bullshit, anyway. This entry reminds me of Tony shouting, ‘I HATE THIS FUCKING SHIT!’, although I am not in a similar situation as that guy. Can you see how everything might lead to anger? Frustration? My inability to affect change in even the tiniest measure is creating a very negative space lately, as if everyone with whom I’ve had contact has done nothing more than placate me for their own benefit. That is not good. I’d say that they should heed my warnings and listen to my words, but what do the words matter? If I speak, will my words make any difference? I think too much time has passed since first addressing this shit five years ago. Too much. Those years have only served to solidify my stance and reinforce the idea that I may honestly be paying for the past. I can’t be certain, of course, because at this point in time I couldn’t think straight if I had ten fucking brains. I’m just so pissed off right now... Nothing is going to sound reasonable. I removed some of the stories from my past. You know, those trips all over the place and the stark descriptions of my activities with a few very special people. Gone. I don’t want to see the titles and I no longer want anyone to read of my fucking gallivanting and stupidity. The train series has been assembled as one long page, too. Unfortunately, that one is even more personal and will not likely return here, ever. The gallivanting is bad enough, honestly. The train? Yikes. I just can’t have eyes on that shit anymore. I probably should not have published it in the first place. All it takes is some enterprising young fuck to do a copy/paste and then my shit is gone forever. I need control over the content. 1122 in the morning. My routine is finished and the garbage work is in process. I decided to take a break and mention that not only is Taylor the goddess in this movie, but also the other woman with the diverging lines on display while wearing JEANS, for Christ’s sake. Unbelievable. That view is so fucking rare that I can’t even begin to describe the obsessive slam which is holding me hostage. Bad enough is Taylor’s face and those Goddamned pants. This day is going to be tough, for sure. And there were the lines just a few seconds ago. Right fucking there. Splendid, but I did make the decision to turn on the movie. My fault. The only other option right now is Molly and her fucking indescribable cuteness. I cannot hear a word she utters while cooking because my attention is glued to where her lines meet. Oh God, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes of... Way too cute for one human being. Jesus. I don’t know what the remainder of this day will hold for me aside from the standard desperation and obsessive gawking combined with a sprinkle of anger, but I have work to do anyway. Part of the garbage is done already. I need to do some organization in the garage before finalizing everything so the cans can be rolled out. I should take care of that stuff prior to the return of the rain, honestly.
I’ll have to get off my rear pretty soon. I don’t like Sunday business dragging on. Pause. 1315. Almost game time. I took care of the garbage and showered. My head has been blown wide open by all of the imagery and memories, unfortunately. I will have to expend great effort to relax and watch the fucking football game. My level of anger has increased steadily from waking to this very moment, leading me to the idea of slamming the fucking garage with unpleasant music with the game only on video. I just don’t care right now. The debilitating thought regarding such a stance today is the idea that no matter how angry or frustrated I may become, nothing will fucking change. I will do whatever I feel and then come out the other side exactly the same. Isn’t that just a fucking peachy situation? Remember... Those people responsible for the root causes of my issues are fucking DEAD. 0819 on Monday morning, December the twelfth. Garbage trucks have been up and down the street for the last hour. Very nice. I don’t know what this day has in store, but I will state that being home in the quiet with my little comforts is just what I need right now. The last few days have caused more distress than I care to admit. I haven’t a clue as to what I can do about this, either. I’ve mentioned that there is anger just beneath the surface. It is not fading. Only the weather and my need to take care of the house have kept me from throwing a fit in the garage. Preoccupied with business, to the last. At least I’m not losing track of the work. The sum of all the above shit is not good. And there is much I cannot reveal here or I’ll be the target of some comments and judgments which are even worse than what I have already considered. This situation is placing so much strain on me that the little comforts have become more important than ever. I will need to embrace them today, for sure, lest my day head into the two-cocktail territory. That is a very dangerous situation which can lead to something much worse and is generally on a hair-trigger, for sure. Just a little touch and I tip over like a sleeping cow. Boom. That would be the end of that. So, this morning I will maintain pace here until this entry is complete, afterward moving on to the business of the day. Too much time spent in any one part of the morning will send me down the rabbit hole. I’ll have to move around. The last few days have made me very uncomfortable, pretty damned angry with myself (for a change), and I need to figure out a way to get the fuck out of this situation before everything is destroyed. I do not like looking back and finding myself dissatisfied with my own actions, no matter the source or level. Today will have to be the day of rising above my dissatisfaction and finding a path in some other direction. There is too much that I need to grade aside, and that means this is not the time to be connected to people. Strained. Pushed. But the worst? Going against my own convictions. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. I’ll have to pull back on the reins and try to find comfort for a while. 0944. Gangsters are gracing the television, including that fucking prime vision from the fourth season about whom I have written much. When I saw the vision yesterday, it actually increased after all these years. I always know when it will come along due to my familiarity with the series, yet each occasion still floors me. I can’t help it. You want to talk about dreaming of turning a person into a machine? Holy shit... The plans I’ve made. I have recently come to realize there is no other way. The sun is shining today. Cool air, though. Hopefully the wind doesn’t pick up or I’ll be freezing my baguettes off again. Yikes. I pulled the cans back up the driveway but have yet to do anything else. I may need to visit the market for a few items that will help upcoming dinners. Not the goddess market, the other one. I should probably fill the car with fuel, too. Other than that crap and my usual routine, I don’t have plans for the remainder of my hours alone. Well, some of this shit will be penned, like every day. Ooh-fa, this episode holds one of the worst events of the entire eighty-six hour series. I can’t stand it. One part of the sequence is not entirely necessary for advancing the story, and I believe that is the reason for my excessive disdain for the writing. The scene is a part of the overall arc, however. Just that one bit was completely unnecessary and it makes me angry that they went to such lengths for the sole purpose of manipulating the audience. I don’t have many issues with this program, yet here and there are very uncomfortable moments sprinkled in because they had carte blanche in creating the tale and the manner in which it was displayed. Is it realistic? I suppose. Gratuitous? Definitely. I must take the bad with the good if I am to follow along. Fact of life, and all that shit. I am considering removing the images of Lyndsy and replacing them with something else; not beauty, though. Abstract? Hmm. 'C'mon. Ease up, ease up.' And there went the sun. Crap. I was hoping the house would benefit from sunshine on the roof. Oh, well. The weather is beyond anyone’s control. Today I may be in the right mood to begin the big mural on the inside of my garage door. It is going to take much time and planning even for the outline. There may be enough paint left for the whole thing, too. Maybe I will take care of the routine and then move out there with my drink. I can close both doors and blast some cold music for a while, or at least until the temperature bites too much. I want to see it finished but do not need to be in a hurry. My mood continues to diminish, meaning something which allows me to flex my feelings could be helpful after a shitty morning. Lorraine’s blouse is a beautiful shade of red. Looks like silk, too. Her character is a psychiatrist so she can probably afford nice clothes. Heh. So much strain on my head and heart. It is nearly too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know how I made it this far without blowing up. I have those little bouts of anger which lead me to the garage, but afterward I am no different, nor do I feel any better about this period. My tirades lead nowhere at all, yet I still feel compelled at times to swing the hammer. I don’t know what it all means. I’ve been reading about common dream devices that many people experience and then wish to understand, and that has led me to reflect upon some of the more memorable moments I’ve experienced. I actually learned a few things, and dealing with anger is one of them, although it still has the power to take over my psyche and push me to lash out at the world. Fortunately, when I do exhibit such behavior, no one is affected but me. The whole thing is becoming stupid, really. Ugh... Here is the sequence to which I was referring. It is a pile of shit. Anyway, feeling the way I have since a few days ago means I will probably end up in the garage later with my tools and a scale drawing of the mural. Have pencil, will travel. Here I sit again at 1156. My usual stuff is finished and I am sans direction. Figures. I can’t move the clock backwards. The idea to work on the mural outline may be best. The sun is still shining. Hopefully, that means the garage will warm a bit. I don’t know what else to do. For whatever reason, when I am angry or upset in some way, heading into the garage and blasting music seems empowering somehow. Maybe it is having control over the material and volume. I don’t know, but I can work on the outline and hopefully feel a bit better. I need it right now. Everything else is gray like this font. Anger will take over very soon, I’m sure. Sitting here at noon trying to write about how I am feeling is fucking stupid. This is going to be the last entry I publish for a long time. There is no longer value in placing my thoughts on the Internet. I changed some of the images to other actors. 1629. I finished the outline of the mural and then moved back into the house. I’m going to make pasta sauce, meaning I need to start early so it can simmer for a while. Ashley is on the television looking tall and amazing, all huge eyes and gorgeous smile. The Christmas movies shall rule the roost for the remainder of this evening, good or bad. I would give everything except one eye to see Ashley’s lines. Ugh. Whatever. Basket case. Curious, she exhibits that squared jawline and I don’t care. It actually adds to the allure of her pretty face, whereas on others it seems too much. Mallory is the same and I don’t know why. Not a fucking clue. Now that I think about it, I believe Ashley the first also has a bit of a squared jawline. I will never figure this out. Today has not been good at all. Yes, I did housework and the outline, but the background continues to cut me to ribbons. Everything... From the lines to the issues to the future. Whatever I may be doing at a given moment seems fruitless, including the outline. I’ve wanted to draw that big mural for over a year, and now that it is finished I honestly couldn’t care less. Nothing blows up my skirt when the pressing issues remain. And they are pressing like never before. My brain is in a vise. Not one of those shitty, imported iron castings, either. I am talking about a precision machine vise. Billet steel. The genuine article. The jaws do a first-class job of crushing pretty much anything. Tuesday morning, just like the store. My early business is finished and I fully intend to sit here for the duration. Last night I had to watch two hours of Erin, and on the heels of daydreaming about her this morning, none other than Meghan is going to be on the screen in a little while. Tired of hearing about the Christmas movie actors? Just wait until a specific face is up there. I will go out of my mind. This endeavor may be completely worthless anymore, but at least it’s mine and I can spout whatever I feel (some of what I have spouted has been removed, however). Ownership can only be retreaded so much before even I don’t like it. I have to keep such a thought in mind all the time. For reasons of good form, I will do my best to avoid going on a long tirade about Meghan or anyone else for the remainder of this entry. Sometimes I tire of the words because they continue to resonate and then I fall down and can’t calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Not only does the gushing look bad here, but inside me it chews on my ability to get through the average day. Circumstances have shoved me into a small space within which there is no way to avoid desperate thinking. The weather is going to preclude me from doing any painting in the garage, sunshine or not. At least the outline is there. Better than nothing. I felt pretty good about creating the whole thing but now it doesn’t seem to matter at all. Perhaps I’ll look at it differently when it’s painted. Topic change... Dreams can be wishes or represent repressed urges. The damaging dreams seem to be both. I wish for that every day, nearly more than anything else. I still can’t believe the feelings that have grown so much in the last few months. The most recent strike against me was mere days ago and drove me fucking insane. In-fucking-sane may be a better way to put it. Either spelling is fine because nothing I can say here will get the point across. I become so focused upon that image sometimes that to be near the real thing is fucking painful as hell. My insides feel as if they are burning me alive during those moments and there is nothing I can say or do to make it go away. The passage of time is the only fading point, yet still the visions and wishes are right there at the ready every damned day. Sometimes I want her so bad that I can’t fucking function. Right now I seem to be fine, though. I am thankful for any day that the dreams don’t completely derail me and send my head straight to hell. Believe me, at this point in my life, nothing has more power over me. NOTHING. That is a mouthful considering everything I’ve said here for seven fucking years. Just believe it. Oh, and I can’t talk about it. Not a word. I am once again residing in the center of an impossible conundrum. In the beginning it felt like a dilemma, as in a solvable situation. Now? Impossible, right down to the ground. This just fucking sucks out loud. The very idea is above all things right now. All things. Think about that. As I’ve stated in the past, the entire situation came out of left field and was only brought to my attention through the first dream. It caught me upside the head and altered the manner in which I look at society, not to mention creating a mass of desire completely out of left field; likely the most desire to grasp at me in years. The only minuscule positive is that I have a touch of control over what takes place from here on in. That is very good. The alternative? Probably the worst possible circumstance imaginable. Believe it. Moving on... I need to do something else soon. The routine awaits, as does some laundry. The weather will once again restrict me to closing the doors if I decide to do any work in the garage. I could remain in the house, too. Or maybe I’ll put some gas in the car and roll over the hill to inquire about what a new desktop computer may cost with the specifications I need. The funny thing here is the train. Did you notice the word is not in the title anymore? Well, you never saw it anyway, so that doesn’t matter. The point is I was heading in one direction and then made several sharp turns only to end up with this mess. The dreams ruined my ability to maintain a line of thinking beyond a few minutes. I can't stop seeing her, nor can I cease dreaming about planting my lips and tongue to her... God help me. 1120 and the gangsters are still gracing my big television. I saved the ultimate Christmas movie this morning, meaning I can see Meghan whenever I wish. Another plus is losing the imagery as I cleaned the kitchen and reorganized the freezer (I don’t know what happens in there, but sometimes everything goes awry and the door won’t close properly). I feel that the situation inside my head has been eased a bit. Part of that could be the massive glass of whiskey that’s been following me for the last two hours. Ugh. What else can I do? I’ll be working all day tomorrow so more cash can be secured for the computer, meaning I need to have everything in order today, just in case. Thursday will be blissful after being out of the house during business hours. This is the time when I can think, although being busy with work may shove it all away for a while. I am anticipating seeing some things at the job because I’ve worked there in the past and am familiar with the homeowner. Those things may cause the damaging dreams to flare, unfortunately, and if so, the vision will return and I’ll become very distracted and almost completely worthless. I hope nothing goes bad. When I think of the dreams and what they held, my mind wanders into the reality that I am already too far gone to be a productive member of society. I am out of my mind. I believe tomorrow may present a problem, but I cannot say what it is or why. I was on that job some five years ago or more, meaning I am familiar with the area and the layout. The problem? I’ve already run into a bit of one before, and this time I can either let it devour me or try to get through the day and dash back home. Once I become preoccupied, though, there may be no getting around the problem. I guess I’ll wait and see. I don’t know if I can watch that movie now. Seeing her smile is very difficult and conjures all manner of impossibilities inside. The future, the present, and Christ knows what else will come to mind and shove me into a box again. The woman is one of the most striking examples of unique visage in human fucking history. Believe me when I say that I have searched for years. Maybe it’s best if the media just sits there on the device for the time being. I’ll have lots of trouble seeing her smile again. She reminds me of Juliette, Andrea, and I can’t even count the rest. Very tough to see that girl these days. Her face is a wonderland of love and everything else. Second only to Jamie.
1300 straight up and here I am again. One of the smiling faces has been absolutely plaguing me all morning. That face just kills me sometimes. Such a pleasant, caring smile, too. I switched from the gangsters back to one of the Christmas movie channels. I need some positivity right now, and the fifth season of the gangsters is not the way to find it. The one huge, glaring upside to these movies is they always end on a happy note. In addition, they are all rated ‘G’ for television, meaning the entertainment is wholesome. There is nothing wrong with that, especially with the world so fucked up these days. Danica is in this one, so no worries. She’s more like a sister than anything else. 0600, Wednesday morning. Very cool outside so far today. The weather was the same last night, yet I was being kept warm by thoughts of the woman on the television for two hours. I can’t even say what had been going through my head. I’ve said it, but not again. Jesus. Two hours. There were moments when I thought I would finally lose the rest of my mind. The woman is a list of features all rolled up and stunningly unique. Unreal, honestly. Sometimes she appears artificial. I should not have volunteered to work today. I changed my mind yesterday but still committed to the one-day job. I even made lunch for us. But now? I wish I hadn’t. Not lunch, the work. This day is going to be more difficult due to last night’s dreaming while awake. I’ve already pointed out a potential problem over there, too. The free time today would have been nice. On the other hand, every time I arrive home after working, there is a good feeling, as in secure and comforting. That will happen later today, plus I will have the rest of the week and beyond to reflect upon everything. This is a bad time, let me tell you. Last night was plenty difficult enough for a week all crammed into two hours. Once again I am on the cusp of saying something that I shouldn’t. I have less than an hour before I need to leave. Maybe afterward I will find enough distraction to keep my head up after returning home. Right now, I really can’t say what will happen, nor can I stop seeing her smile from last night. Two hours after making the decision to watch that movie, I realized that the memory of seeing her on the screen for the last few years has made more of an impact than originally thought. She has a vast amount of power over me yet nothing whatsoever to do with my life. Wonderful. Just... Peachy. Her smile is in my brain at this very moment and the thoughts may soon drive me insane. Damn. I would love to remain home and alone in the quiet all day. What a mistake. I need some time to reflect on all this shit. Lots of time. Well, it’s only one day. I can make it through and then come out the other side better off. I never realized Taylor is five-nine. Wow. I went goo-ga over Brooke, too, and she is the same height. Not surprising, I guess. Maybe at some point I turned into a height-whore. 0802, Thursday morning after the early business. I am overjoyed to be home right now, especially after needing my comfort so badly yesterday and then running out the door. I knew in advance that this morning would be very rewarding and that thought kept me going yesterday during work. Plus? I’ll have a little cash in the pocket soon. The work actually pays pretty well. And the issue with which I thought I would have to contend was not present. I spoke to the client for a little bit because she recalled years ago when the same group remodeled her master bath. The situation back then was very sad, however. There had been a loss in her family which resonates right into the present. I am always nice to her. Thankfully, the problem I suspected never materialized. Upon returning home in the afternoon, I was so happy to get into my little routine and then relax for a while before dinner. And now a change. One change, but it is plenty difficult. I should not have been hurt or concerned at the time, yet the feelings took over within seconds. Hours later? I still heard the words bouncing back and forth between my ears. The inside of my head had engaged in a massive manufacturing routine in which my entire being became slowly buried under piles of difficulties stemming from buildings filled with memories and regrets. I felt the acute pain and then moved along through the day with the weight of my own troubles sitting on top of my head. And it continues to this very second. I believe the words were uttered last year or possibly a bit further back, yet I can still hear them and see the expression as I sit on this sofa. That moment continues to cut me and relate to anything I am trying to watch on the television. There seems to be nothing I can do about it. And then something else... Something unexpected, but no matter how much I try to rationalize and consider the nature of such a subjective topic, my head fails. I can’t do anything about it and the subject is going to remain right behind my eyes for the rest of my days. This is unchangeable, and as such, it forces me to realize that my desires in life are going to either fall on deaf ears or disappear entirely. This is a very bad situation and unlike anything with which I’ve had to contend in the past. Plus? I didn’t fucking cause this. Some very insensitive people unleashed their waves of shit and scarred me on the inside. I wish I had some fucking power. I can’t stop thinking about the subject or get it out of my head. Those moments when I am feeling most vulnerable are when the memories attack and I look on with a combination of disdain and fear, leaving me with the icy knowledge that a very big part of my life is over. No matter where I look or what I may be doing at a given time, the dragon will raise its mighty head and burn me alive. From eleven years ago to more recently, and from a tiny sting to a massive explosion, I am seeing the black future of a person who can no longer connect with others. I never should have placed myself in two of those situations. After a very short time, I knew where they were heading. Very early, that thought. Some conversation seemed to help, but I can never truly know of the processes at work inside, especially when topics end up surfacing through sheer weakness. The cuts don’t heal. All they accomplish is to greatly exacerbate the issue and push my mental state into a place of hiding. The moments of comfort end up shadowed by dark clouds. They still take place, yet the overpowering nature of the cuts disallow true comfort, even for short periods. Well, fuck me. That is all gone now, anyway. My new path is to do nothing more than sit here and fucking think about everything over and over. I can’t DO anything. I thought the circumstances of two shit situations from the past were all I had to plow in this life. Right now I am well into a third. More anger, more strain, more of everything negative. No power. Only strain. I’ve been strained to the point of breaking in half. There is nothing I can do except sit here and think about it over and over; miserable, darkened thoughts that leave me unhappy, frightened, and full of hatred. I don’t see improvement on the horizon, nor can I find a way around this shit. The smiling face is going to kill me and I don’t even know her. 0927. The routine will not take long today. 0629 on Friday morning. My Thursday was waylaid by the need to return to the job from the day before. Something went wrong with one of the shower valves and I had to go help. That was right in the center of my comfortable time, too. I went and fixed it and then returned without going anywhere else. At least the car is full of gas now, so maybe I can go out shopping later. I don’t know. This morning will be spent almost entirely in front of the computer, though. I need some time to organize my thoughts and deal with something I had hoped would not come along... Another damaging dream with a smiling face. Yep. Laura Osnes on the television this morning. She is so lovely. The dream? Something entirely different. The smile grabbed me immediately and did not let go until I awakened. And then? My head manufactured a few impossible scenarios which I can still see right now. The smile was too much and led me to believe that everything was going to be ok. No bra strap, no bicycle, nor anything from the other dreams. This one was just two individuals, one of which is driving me insane lately. I definitely need to figure out a few things today. Those dreams have me creating thoughts that I can never discuss with anyone, plus my head conjures images that soon derail whatever I may be attempting to do on a given day. Today may be ideal for fleshing out the situation. I have coffee and quiet, Christmas movies and gangsters. I had been trying to work on this crap yesterday, but as I said, dashing out the door pretty much goofed up my quiet time. I was only gone less than two hours, yet in that time my flow of thinking was disrupted enough for me to lose my way completely. I need to get back into the process later this morning and embrace the solitude for a while. I keep seeing the smile over and over and it’s driving me crazy because nothing can ever come of it. She is not even a machine. Just a person. Wow, sometimes Laura is stunning. Her skin alone is worth the price of admission. God damn would I love to... The prospect of having this entire day to myself is wonderful right now. I need it. Pause for the cause. 0809 and I have the morning business finished and the day to myself. I still don’t know what to do, but the space to think is critical right now so I don’t lose my mind. Sometimes I want her so bad that there is nothing with the power to distract me from the vision of her all over me, smiling and gorgeous. This morning I can see those visions, too, meaning I’ll have to push hard to get myself on track very soon. Going out the door for a while may help. Or maybe nothing will. She is in there pretty fucking deep right now. Since I don’t need any more of that shit this morning, I switched the programming on the television. The title needs to change again... Done. 1636 and I have no idea what became of this day. I took care of the usual stuff and went to the store. Otherwise, not much. I am in a rut and could not avoid such a feeling earlier, hence sitting here now after being encapsulated in sadness rather than looking forward to the evening and some nice dinner. Faces in my dreams, faces on the television, and faces out there in society, some right close and others at a distance. Visage all down the page, too. I don’t know what all this means, but it gripped me earlier and would not let go. I believe that whatever seemed to be wrong for several years is actually much worse than I had thought. Sunday morning with coffee and a Christmas movie. This is the one with Mallory and her incredible pencil skirt. Damn. Yesterday seemed to fly by, maybe due to three football games in a row along with my usual work. I don’t know. I was daydreaming on and off throughout the routine and afterward. Thankfully, when we went to the restaurant nothing became a problem. Everything showed up this morning. I keep thinking about ceasing this work on the site, too. I’ll have to decide whether or not I feel that maintaining a journal is worth my time. There will always be something to say. I also have to figure out this squared-jaw thing. I pretty much summed everything yesterday but felt that an epilogue of sorts might help. According to the analytics, there have been less than ten visitors here between the last two weeks of November and three days ago. This is not conducive to my feeling that the effort is worthwhile. For myself, the words are fine. Yes, I retread all sorts of shit all the time and repeat myself almost verbatim several times per week, but still the questions plague me enough to continue asking. I just don’t feel that anyone else should be a part of whatever fucking processes I am going through, good or bad. My time is not spent here for other people, period. I have the usual stuff to do today and the garbage. I’ll have some hours alone, too. That will be nice. I was horribly preoccupied for much of yesterday and do not wish to repeat it, although to date I have not been able to easily push the dreams out of my head and move in some other direction. Maybe watching Mallory right now is a bad idea, too. She will only push desire-filled imagery into my head and lead back to what happened yesterday. Black pants? Yep... Black fucking pants. Everything is on display, hence my troubling mindset. I need to lick those pants, and that thought is nothing compared to the mass of feelings in my head right now. Long essay. Not much said here, but lots of lines and words. I don’t know why I did not break this up into smaller parts. Eh... Who cares? I probably haven’t said much of anything, anyway. I don’t know what I am doing here these days. Talking about things does not make them go away. That is something I learned a very long time ago and it still holds true to this very second. I have much experience in trying to express myself to another person and listen to coping methods and strategies along with ideas regarding the origin of some negative feelings toward myself as well as other people. I will not head in such a direction any longer. None of that shit is worth it, believe me. I already know I’ll be in a worse condition coming out the other side. This keyboard is the only listener in my future. Well, the new keyboard in the office, too. No people. I cannot begin to count the number of references here regarding my abandoning this endeavor. I really can’t. Oh, I could run a detailed search, but would it make any difference? Nope. Nothing will. This process used to be very sparse; the entries barely numbered in the teens for some years. Now I write every day and feel worse than I did when the site changed direction in fifteen. Could this have had a hand in my downfall? Continually describing such vast beauty? And all those days of typing descriptions of my activities? What did that accomplish? I will rest my case very soon. The problems have mounted for too long. There are three on the television right now. One face and two of something else. A pair, if you will. They remind me of the first and third damaging dreams. A face accompanied one of them. Everything I place here spins circles inside my head and I become desperate to see more. The Christmas movies are probably the biggest catalyst of them all, too. But I keep watching, searching, staring. Why? I don’t know, but one certainty is the idea that continuing to describe what I see and feel on this site will not do anyone any good. None of it. I’m quite sure that my modus operandi is well known by now. No good is coming of this work, nor did it ever. This entire entry has been a waste of time and effort. I am much worse off inside than when it began some weeks ago, and for years I have known that the work is futile. I keep seeing impossible situations, yearning for the past, searching for a savior, dreaming of images I should be avoiding, and then sitting here complaining about all of it. Nothing is going to change. I will not find someone on the side of the road or in a grocery store. No one will darken my doorstep. I cannot stop dreams. The damage has already been done. The time has come for me to tighten my grip on everything which can invite more issues, and this process is at the top of the list. What a fucking galactic waste of time. I will never reveal the correlation that took place weeks ago, nor will I speak either name. The worst of it? Knowing 'her'. I am wracked by her visage."
This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
legal
about
clodmaster
archive
home
