February 28th, 2022 3:05pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Gral Vold read ( words) "Back when I had the hots for Julianne, there was an ill-found entry entitled 'The End of All Things and Julianne... Again'. Well, that was several years ago and I thought there was an end to be found. That essay may as well not exist. 1122 on the same Monday which closed the previous pile of shit. And the question again... Or is it more of a statement? The words at issue, 'He has no fuckin conception', and the response, 'He has no fuckin kids'. Ah, there we go again. Again. AGAIN. The defining crap of life all rolled into a simple sentence supporting the other. Yep. The world must be this way. Everything must be this way. Believe it. Whatever your past dictated or involved on the subject of family, there are only two ways to go, and both lead back to the same fucking idea, the rest of us be damned. 'Well, fuck him. He's dead and I'm blind'. Jesus, my fucking arm. 0648 on Tuesday now. Feeling pressure from people. Not good. I don't need anything else on my shoulders, although I must say the lack of full-time work does help me organize myself each day. I should be able to either deal with or push away those oft-formidable demands upon my time. 'Should'. Not one of my favorite words, either. If I have to push, it will be gentle for the time being. My problems are not their problems. Spunky Ned the bad attitude elf. 0752 and I'm beginning to daydream about that early part of the glow again. I worked at the carburetor shop while all morning long Jeff Blazy and Bob Lillie kept me company. Two locations. The older shop was fairly nice but too small. That was where I learned the operation. Eighty-nine. Everything was new. We were kind of new. I was at the same location for the first Christmas, I believe. Unless it was a year later. Maybe I'll try to build a timeline. I sure wish I had some of the photos from that period. Family, too. Anyway, Ned was one of the characters on the radio. Hilarious. I did not work at the shop for very long, though. If memory serves, I ended up back at the glass plant within a year or so. I'll tell you what... Leaving work during the holiday season to meet her and the sister was wonderful, heartwarming. I can only hope I appreciated it at the time. The fucking holidays ruled the roost back then, family or otherwise. Hmm... Maybe I'll get a wild hair and drive over the southern bridge to drown at the Jumper soon. That place did not exist in the south bay during the glow, but it did when I was at the big electronics store just a few years ago. The store was a destination at least three times a week. I still miss that goofy place, damn it. Nothing will ever resemble it in the future. Impossible. 1111 and the routine is finished. Laundry going. I have a few hours before meeting my boss at the bar for some money and a little powwow over upcoming work. I've been keeping track of reference points during the show for shooting images later. One of them just rolled on by, too. The camera is right next to me, but I have to move this machine and stand directly before the television for the process due to the fast lens. Right now I feel like resting after running around the house all morning. I'll get around to her soon enough. And speaking of images, you'll notice the Sea has returned here as a theme. I had four more large images of Viki prior to changing my mind. The bottom line is two aspects of including the standard four-image layout. First, I am fairly proud of many shots from the trip in ten, and second, I need to see more of a gorgeous model like I need a knife in my eye. I have to get away from that shit for a while. Everything generally boils down to either memories or feelings regarding desire. Both cause nothing more than heartache. The upside is I have several hundred more captures from the Sea and surrounding areas to share here, meaning no chance of running short. I even used one shot from a car show across the bay from a few years ago to splash the index. I have yet to publish it, though. Zero motivation. I fully intend to keep the curves the hell out of this content for a long while. I'm certain no one will miss them, not even yours truly. Bombay Beach is 552 miles from where I am sitting at this moment, but I would fill the tank and fucking drive there right now if there were no entanglements. I mean that. Something in that area of the state attached itself to my weakened heart more than eleven years ago and has not let go. Four years ago I revisited the same exact places around the Sea, as evidenced by some thoughts about the trip placed here not long after the fact. I honestly believe that trip was either much too late or very premature because I did not appreciate it enough at the time. Very few actuations of the shutter around the shore tell me that my head was not there. As much as I would love to visit again during my birthday month next year, the truth is I also need to branch out and follow the roads elsewhere, hence the tentative plan to drive all over central Nevada in either September or early next spring. There are two destinations pushing that idea ahead of many others, one being a stretch of highway and a small town I've been wanting to visit for a very long time. 0622 on Wednesday. Again with the arm. Coffee and my show. Yesterday went fine. Laundry, failure, routine, and a visit with the boss to catch up. I returned rather late but still prepared a nice dinner. Tonight will be much more comfortable because I'm not planning to go anywhere aside from a possible pick up from the cleaners. I'll avoid the market over there. The self preservation is again pushing me. I've had nothing in my eyes for days and wish to continue in this fashion. The only issues have been in my head. Smiles and closet doors. I remember too much and keep going back to the failing fantasy. Every day. The result is me remaining away from anything difficult. There is enough of that right here in the house. On top? Fifth season now, meaning I will be revving up the 17-35 and pointing it straight at the television throughout the next several hours. Good or bad no longer matters. I want to have a collection of her facial expressions on this machine. Oof it's cold for this area. Less than thirty above the roof this morning. Nothing compared to other places, but for me the temperature is down there a ways. Yikes. I'll have to remain vigilant about the house in this weather. The doors do not seal as well as they could. Today may be the day to add some stripping. Smiling faces haunting my every step. A blown kiss. A stare. More than one stare, actually. Cat eyes. 0809 and I have the house to myself for the remainder of the day. I fully intend to appreciate each second and care for my stuff at a relaxed pace, all the while following the stories and awaiting the next moments for grabbing her images from the television screen. In the house, all day. The garage is much too cold right now. 1208. Alcohol breeds suppression. Every day I am entering the same triangle, its sides closing as time passes. No matter what transpires or how I try to guide my thoughts and actions, the progression of that very same time brings the point of the triangle ever closer. There is nothing I can do. Eventually the point is reached, I fall flat on my face, only to once again see the clock's motion and the fucking triangle directly before me. I do not see a way out of this pattern, but one thing is certain... The morning cocktail shall remain. Triangles and circles. And as of this morning, I've shot more than twenty images of her on the television. I even went so far as to peruse a few online articles regarding capturing the screen with a DSLR. Marvelous. The basement is that much closer now. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:17am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 52mm, f5.6 1/125sec 1620. People are probably lighting up right now. Heh. The booze did its job today. This is critical to my survival. The routine was finished fairly early, leaving me plenty of time for going through a cabinet in the spare bedroom. I am going to clean and relocate it to the opposite side of its twin in the dining room. Looking through older stuff was very interesting, as well. I actually found all my old captive rings that I used to wear, meaning we likely have not been inside the cabinet for at least six or seven years. I'm actually wearing two of them right now. I've not had this type of jewelry in my ears since at least the time when we stored everything. 304LVM stainless, once again inside my body. Love. It. As for the cabinet, I need to await her arrival before proceeding further because most of the stuff belongs to her. That means I'll be able to finish the project tomorrow. 0648 on Thursday. Sixth season now. I plowed through the entire fifth season in just over twenty-five hours. Basket case. The sixth season means plenty of camera opportunities coming soon. By the third episode, if memory serves. This is without a doubt one of the most ridiculous activities I've ever attempted, although not surprising at all. Back to the Mojo Girl, January of zero nine in my house in the valley. I schlepped two different expensive pieces of video processing equipment from work -- borrowed using word of mouth and nothing more -- and went through holy hell trying to get her video off the damned digital recorder with cabling running from the living room to the office and back. I did my best to circumvent the content protocols and copy protection, but in the end failed for the most part. The audio was never a problem. All I could do was capture her in 720p rather than anything higher. It's better than nothing, though. Too bad I didn't have the D700 back then. The images I'm grabbing of Jamie are much improved over that little Sony. Whatever. The Mojo Girl is forever owned by me on this machine, the RAID setup, the site and YouTube itself. Five copies in total if you include the site backup which is next to the laptop. Jamie will soon be in the same category. 2052. Very unusual for me to be sitting at the IDE at this hour on any day. I have been preoccupied with the potential road trip all over central Nevada and not writing very much. I don't really care right now, either. Between the trip research and trying to capture Jamie on the television with the big camera, my mind is not here very often. The last four days my mind has been elsewhere. Far away. Hundreds of miles, but also right up there on the fucking screen. Pathetic, as always. 1427 on Friday the 25th. Not much to place here. I shot more images throughout the morning while working around the house. Some are decent, but honestly the best way to see her is simply watching the video. The resolution is not going to get much better. My camera is pretty awesome, too. The fact is the screen appears fluid and clear, but once the shutter is released a good portion of quality is lost. I will continue trying. As for all the other shit on the table here lately, I don't know what the hell to say anymore. For the foreseeable future, I will probably remain away from this for most of the time. I just don't see much reason to continue typing about problems without apparent solutions. Other subjects, like photography or the road trip may end up the lion's share. I have the routine finished and some dry cleaning rolling along. In roughly an hour I'm going to make a sweet and sour stew for dinner, leaving it to simmer for four hours. Aside from little details here and there, I'll have to clean the kitchen one more time so it's ready for the evening, but nothing else. My cabinet project is on hold until some items can be perused. Another project involves one of the Christmas light strings. I recently acquired several more lighted ornaments from four of the shows and need to make some modifications to a string in order for them to properly illuminate. I want to care for everything early so it's ready for next season. Not only do I have the original five ships, but additional models from the nineties. I sold mine in eleven when trying to amass resources and have missed them ever since. Now I have more than ever. Very nice. The tree will be pretty striking and hark back to the late glow. There is a chance we can attend the big spring auto show at the end of next month. If so, I'll have a prime chance to flex the big camera and capture detail. Last time, neither of us felt into the event and were up too late the night before, meaning we took off after only three hours and I didn't shoot much. Maybe thirty or so. Unacceptable. If this chance comes around, I plan to remain there at least half the day seeking all the detail possible. I need to get into the lens again, and this opportunity could be just what the doctor ordered since I have to wait for the road trip. 1653 and everything is finished. I did the prep work on the artichokes and have the stew simmering. It should reduce quite a bit before dinner, so I'll have to keep an eye on the liquid. I also finished cleaning out the cabinet so the next leg of that project can proceed in the morning. Right now the entire dining table is suspect because it has gathered everything which awaits the cabinet relocation. Once complete, I need to disassemble four of the models and box them like last summer. They will be stored, leaving the mattress in the old office the only obstacle remaining. I'll toss that to the wind and then move the dining table back into the office and set up the old table here. It seems ridiculous, but after realizing the value of the old table being back where it belongs, the next push was a massive amount of storage available in my garage. The only other part of today which has been interesting is the tree in the front yard. When we ventured out yesterday, I noticed a decent hole and crack near grade level. Not good. The tree is as old as the house -- just shy of seventy years -- and may be in danger of dying due to many factors. This morning I put in a call to the city and they sent a gentleman out to inspect the problem. He will be returning Monday with an arborist to judge whether or not the tree needs to go before coming down in a storm. The worst risk would be to people, second to the house itself (or my car which is often parked below). It is a heritage tree, meaning I cannot do anything permanent without permission from public works. At least I'll get more information in three days. I've been worried somewhat ever since the tree across the street was heeled thirty degrees by the wind. The first show. I gave up on the gangsters because I have been driving myself insane and agonizing over capturing images of you-know-who. Damn. Maybe my 'end of all things' bullshit was on the mark. This is going nowhere, like everything else. I'll have to remain focused upon the car show and road trip, lest I lose sight of anything bringing me joy anymore. 0647 on Saturday. Today is the 26th of the month. Tomorrow would be my thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, had things not unraveled so many years ago, although that unraveling led to my buddy and I heading out to the big mall often enough for me to notice that girl in the jewelry store. Upon asking her to dinner, the glow began to form. The other relationship going to pieces was a step in a good direction. The following four years had a few bumps, yet still was the ____ period of my life. I miss it every day. At least the ornaments brought some memories of the show back then being new and exciting, each of those four holiday seasons feeling as if I had never really experienced anything prior. It was wonderful. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:22am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f6.3 1/160sec Today I'll have the morning and then my quiet time will be over. Tomorrow, about the same thing only later in the afternoon. I really need the time, too. There is enough in my head to force me backwards if I can't keep my brain out of the shit. The camera and my little projects will have to keep me occupied of I am to remain upright while alone. I need to create my own distractions. They shall begin forsooth. The biggest eyes of the series have been all over the screen since yesterday morning. I can't rev up the camera this early, though, because clear thinking is required to capture the best exposure. This forces a recollection from twenty years back... One of the experimenters at our facility within NASA was quite the wing nut in every day life, yet brilliant underneath. Among his many talents, he used a medium-format Mamiya for photographing landscapes and such. Much of his work was in Alaska, alone. He had a sailboat tied up not far from where I now live and would head out completely alone each summer to sail north in search of ice. Not up the coast, mind you, but more than six hundred miles due straight west to get away from everything, then north. He would be out there for weeks at a time. Upon returning during early fall, he often shared some large prints of whatever he was able to pull into the lens. I'm referring to poster-size prints of his own work. My boss was also an enthusiast with his camera. In fact, he upgraded to one hell of a digital body while we worked there. Anyway, upon seeing the huge prints, I was floored by the quality of his photography and a while later my boss informed me that the researcher had previously been a photographer for National Geographic magazine. Unbelievable. According to what I was told, he did not find the work satisfying enough to usurp his degreed work in biology and geophysics, so he left the magazine to focus full-time on the science. I had the unreal fortune of working with him for several years before he flew the coop for a long while. And that is another story. The point of this was being reminded of Jerry because of my digital camera. He and I worked very closely because I often had to set up some extremely sensitive and complex electronic systems for his research. We talked often as I found him and what he had been trying to accomplish fascinating from the word go. Each week he reserved for experiments ended up being a huge mess due to the sheer number of cables running all over the room, a multitude of test equipment connected to the impact chamber, and tons (literally) of liquid nitrogen for cooling each target before testing. The entire gun room was cluttered with everything. I can't recall how many times he had weeks scheduled each year while I was there, but I'd have to say throughout my time at the range he visited on perhaps twelve occasions. The last week of research we performed for him seemed typical but soon became a major point of contention. Jerry rolled into my boss' office one morning to ask about the upcoming schedule, after which my boss called for a meeting with our facilities manager. Jerry ended up with his name on a week a few months into the future. The research came and went, and he left his target assembly in our building with the promise that he would soon return to disassemble it and cart the stuff back to his building. The week of research was very good for his theories and he was pleased with the results. So much so, in fact, that he gathered all of the data and notes very quickly upon us firing the final shot for the week. Very interesting. The testing was as complex as ever. Several weeks later, and after many calls to his office about the target assembly STILL taking up space in our gun room, we received a visit from Jerry's branch chief. That is when everything went to hell and made us laugh at the same time. We soon learned why he had been so specific in picking a date for the research, too. His boss informed us that he visited to be put on the schedule without a single word to anyone on the center. We were not normally in the loop of finance or anything much to do with scheduling, so we just assumed everything would play out as it had in the past. Apparently, Jerry had been under pressure for some definitive results of a type the organization wanted, and that data was quite different than his own wishes. He had a strong desire to prove his own theories and they did not wish to support his own vision, only that of the branch. So, Jerry -- being brilliant and reclusive throughout his entire life -- trotted to our building, secured a week for running his experiments, and grabbed the data as quickly as possible. The time of year had been chosen so he could dash away with the information, hop on his sailboat, and leave the country. His plan worked perfectly. All anyone could do was bow to his intelligence and ambition. After forty years working within NASA on some of the most eccentric research, Jerry had performed one final experiment on someone else's tab and disappeared. His boss informed us that he was in trouble, but honestly not THAT much trouble. The man was a legend. His only issue upon finally returning many months later was the agency gently requesting that retiring would be in his best interest. I sure do miss that guy. Wait a minute... I brought up Jerry and his amazing photography for a reason, and the story above is not it. Years before his magical deception (about which I still laugh on occasion), I had been perusing some very large prints of the coast of Alaska when I asked about his camera equipment. All of it was quite old. He then told me something I would never forget... 'Don't go digital', he stated with a smile, 'It's just a fad.' Heh. If he only knew. The man was a film purist; something I continue to respect. This entry is a mess. Stories, daily activities, whatever. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Sixth season eyes with hair tied back. Jesus fuck, anyway. I nearly can't deal with seeing her. Let the dream continue, unimpeded and ever-expanding. One day this will become the worst life interference imaginable. 0842 and I have my usual routine ahead once the coffee is gone. The cabinet plan will continue now that I have definitive thoughts regarding what to keep and store. I'll begin to go outside the norm once my chores are finished. Perhaps some laundry, too. In and around all that stuff I will be right here either writing about some stupid shit or performing more research for the (hopefully) upcoming road trip. I am becoming more excited with each passing day, and the camera is a good portion of that feeling. After using such a powerful imaging device to capture a woman on the television screen for days, I simply MUST go out in the world and do some real shooting. The basement is right there but I don't want to head in just yet. These guys on the show are so fucking homophobic that I think they may have set a record. Believable, considering such a way of life, yet unbelievable to hear sometimes. 'You don't have to do that, but you're sweet.' Really? HE is sweet? Consider what you just did, my dear. And don't even get me started on the 'sweetness', damn it. I'll run around the world completely out of control before reining in my thoughts and getting back to whatever may be normal. I cannot say enough, plus I cannot make it clear. Fucking hell, anyway. I can't fucking stand typographical errors on this site but just ran across one from more than a year back. Most people don't give a crap as long as they can understand the context, but I fucking hate them. 0909 and almost time to rise and take care of some stuff. This is going nowhere anyway. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:24am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec Ooh-fa, the images bring back memories of the first big camera more than eleven years ago. I splurged on the body and zoom lens as brand new, setting me back nearly $3500 in one shot, and with zero accessories to get going. I really had to scramble in order to have everything ready for the trip you see on this page. Damn, but that was a lot of money. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be forced to sell the entire outfit. Ugh. Years later I acquired the same body and lens, only to build my outfit once again. Now I have literally everything necessary for almost any type of shooting. I will not part ways with this camera regardless of what comes along in the future. And now a story... The zoom lens mounted to the camera right now is a 17-35mm f2.8. One of the best lenses Nikon ever made, both highly regarded and highly expensive, garnering nearly 2k for a new one. I bought it from a photographer via an auction two years ago for just over $700. Excellent deal. I immediately ran some experiments and found that the speed was amazing. Not long after, I was straightening the old office and fumbled the camera to the floor. It landed on the lens objective. I panicked, turned on the camera, and saw that there was a lens error. Neither the zoom or focus rings would rotate at all. The lens took the brunt of the impact but protected the body. I sent it to a shop in the Midwest for repair. It returned some three weeks later, nearly new again, but to the tune of $650. Ouch. Big lesson there. The upside is it's in near-perfect condition and still several hundred dollars beneath a new one. Had I dropped a full-price lens, the repair would have crippled me. The story is not real funny, but considering how much I baby that camera, I can still giggle a bit. 1228. Same day. I finished some of the organization left over from the cabinet but have yet to move the thing into the dining room. My head is all preoccupied with trying to find peace and consideration of the trip. My ambition to get into the lens again is very high right now. I love the camera more than I can put into words. Much of my time spent behind the viewfinder is more important than the quality of the images. It's a feeling, and one nearly impossible to describe. There is a different world inside that camera... A world over which I hold complete control. The closing sequence of the last episode combined with the early scenes of the next are bringing me the hell down in a bad way. Watching has become a compulsion. These two are like a two-pronged fork stuck in my heart. There is a finite amount of enjoyment or respect. A good portion of those are gone for me. Gone. I did not have a chance, and the one observation rising above all others comes from the gangsters of the fifties, 'you can always take comfort in the fact that you never had a choice.' True. Everything was beyond my control. Still, I have been viewed as very 'off' due to such facts. Jaded; opinionated; often very unpleasant as a result. I cannot disagree. I keep watching the series over and over and over, though. Why? Because I don't know what else to put on the television sometimes. Whenever I branch out, shit goes downhill due to me apparently being the only fucking human being alive who has some sensitivity about things. All alone there, assholes. Anyway, the closing scene leading to the next episode is really beautiful to watch. Unfortunately, anything I truly find beauty in these days always seems to have a gun pointed at my head to ensure I forget nothing. 0642 on garbage day. I am glad to be in the morning quiet today because yesterday I became too preoccupied for thinking straight. I also had to dash to the market earlier for two items, one of which will be heading to the city later. The other is in my coffee. The trips to the market or cleaners are the only reasons for leaving this house recently. I have little desire to go anywhere else. Each little tidbit pushes me to want to head across Nevada again, too. That may seem odd, but there is a huge difference between heading out the door to run errands and running into the middle of the high desert to feel both free of everything and connected to it at the same time. Last night was a bit of a turning point on that front, too. I began to plan an elaborate road trip six years ago and was usurped soon after. We ended up on the ship to Alaska instead. At the beginning of the plan for that cruise, I felt as if my road trip idea was squashed without feeling. By the time we took the trip, I felt the opposite. Now? I've been working on this route through central Nevada and the idea of a cruise came up again last night. I cannot disagree due to my first two cruise vacations being absolutely fantastic. Time will tell if we can make it work for next year. Ah... More reinforcement. The lines go through my head and combine with an inability to know what is actually happening on the other side of the equation. I can never know, trust, ask... NOTHING. All I can do is sit here and soak up the worry while venting in some manner so as to render me able to go through life with a smidgen of comfort from time to time. I have stated that I 'already know what is going on in there', but the truth is that does not relate to this crap. The reinforcement is rampant these days. The other side is just that, something over which I have zero control and often no way to understand or have any influence upon the jading which results from years within this overpowering machine. At long last in this latest entry, the title has finally come into play... Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived. But don't worry yourself. Everything remains inside me. Gral vold. Gral valen. The wall of life against which there can be no violence, unfortunately. I need to go into the middle of the Silver State and embrace the fucking desert. Every time I see that scene (just one of many, but it stands out due to some related conversation after the fact), my head goes all the way around every fucking possibility and each situation related to what I have revealed and/or discussed with 'them'. I'm really fucking sick of this continuing to railroad my thinking no matter what show or reference comes to mind, but there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. Look at the fucking breasts on the woman behind the piano. Jesus fuck... Their shape. Anyway, I'm pissed off all the time nowadays. No matter what I may be seeing, hearing or doing, something will eventually come along and send me into the ground again. Every time. The fact that I've seen this series through so many times means I already know what to expect, and I forgive some of it due to the characters and storyline. This one is deep in my heart, too, so I'm biased from the beginning. Other media? Fuck that. I may be a walking, talking oxymoron, but I feel what I feel and will never apologize for it. Plus, I'm the first to admit that much of the manner in which I live life is dead wrong, so shut the fuck up. I am stuck midway between deep appreciation for what plays out and feeling acute emotional pain due to the subject matter. And then something else comes along and brings me to tears. Pattern, you say? Oh, fuck yes. And remember... I know quite a bit of what is going on inside. Nearly 0800. Today will be spent doing the usual chores and garbage work along with my continuing efforts in switching the big tables around and moving that damned cabinet. I need to create some space here. Hopefully I can shove the bad shit behind me and be productive today. The weather is forecasted to be warmer -- which I can already feel somewhat -- so the garbage and work outside may be easier than last week at this time. Only 0835 so far, too. Lots of hours ahead, some will be spent alone. The cruise ship idea is lingering, and that brings a thought from the previous trip... Throughout that ten-day cruise, there was a blonde woman I spied from time to time who was gorgeous and seemed very goofy. Lots of drinking. She was always clad in some sort of cocktail dress while aboard ship, too. Very slinky, as if each day was a night out on the town. We ran across her and her partner here and there, usually walking in the opposite direction. There were more than two thousand people on that ship, so running into anyone more than once was actually not typical, but me being me meant my eyes were always searching for something. Anyway, the morning of disembarkation had us with just the carry items and in a bit of a line strolling through the promenade toward our waiting area. The couple was directly in front of us, her glass of champagne bouncing along while the guy tried to keep her in line. It was a funny sight because there we were at roughly ten in the morning and the stunning blonde was mostly drunk, giggling, and spilling the booze from one step to the next. At first I saw her form and face and was floored by the beauty, but in the end I saw some of her personality (maybe) and only wished to remain at a distance. One can never know about what is going on in another person's head or life. I still laugh about watching her waddle along with the glass, though. Super cute. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:25am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f8 1/250sec Almost time to rise and work. My coffee is waning. 1232 on the same Sunday. Work in progress... Garbage, laundry, the rest is finished. I may have to scrub the shower when I get in there. It's overdue. Exciting, eh? At least I never run out of chores. Plenty of life's aspects are decidedly absent, but not the chores. 0743 and here I am for the day. Yesterday went from not knowing what to do all the way into very productive territory. I don't know what took place, either. Something, though. Maybe my desire to maximize the garbage cans. Whatever. Today is wide open like most. And back to last fall and one massive error in judgment which led to much of the reasoning behind me now living the way I do... Murderous rage... Impulses. Disdain is not enough of a descriptor any longer. The problem here is that I understand. I really do. There is no blame because what occurred at that time has also been taking place inside my head for many years; all the way back to the car dealer. Wow, actually, to the eighties, honestly. I recall being on the cusp of the eighty-eight Tahoe trip and lunging toward an individual close by. A person better avoided, yet I did not put forth the effort. I gave in quickly and reaped the rewards. A woman who resembled Lizzy in many ways. There was too strong a pull there. So, months ago was a simple event which could have been shoved aside and forgotten, yet my weak nature instead expanded out of control and buried me in the soil. Too bad, because now I am fairly angry about it. No control there. None. And this whole thing is my problem as it has grown for decades. The genesis was unavoidable, yet still I could have reacted and taken the affair off my typical highway with no exits. Understand? Probably not. 1051 and the routine is finished. Warmer weather helps. On Friday the guy from public works visited and is scheduled to return sometime today, meaning I can't leave the house until the meeting. It's important. I can't have any risk there. Too dangerous. as for the remainder of the day, I plan to fortify a bit and ensure that our emergency supplies are in good order. The shit show in eastern Europe is pretty much the most dramatic military activity around the globe since that horrible day in zero one. The likelihood of anything spreading in our direction is minimal, yet the idea of being prepared cannot be overstated. While outside I can hear the ocean waves. I am hoping to hear nothing else. Both of us have backgrounds in the military, meaning we are always in mind of what can develop quickly out of the smallest skirmish, and being ready just in case the shit hits the fan -- and I'm not referring to a shortage of toilet tissue -- is more important now than in many years. Little steps here and there can help. Second show all morning. No gangsters right now because I've been reminiscing about where I was in life when these episodes first aired. The current one premiered on 30 January of 1988. Wow. The first episode of the third season is very meaningful even though I was not watching at the time. It aired ONE DAY after first meeting the woman with whom I was in a relationship during the glow. Ugh. This program is so deeply embedded in my heart that I cannot find enough words to express the love. The characters have kept me company for so long that I can no longer live without them. In fact, they spawned that heartfelt message reaching out to anyone who felt the same. Unfortunately, my story was misinterpreted from the outset and I was flattened. I may go into it again, too. Not right now, however. 1213 and I've had the national news on through lunch. The situation is such that I am mostly worried for those in the area, but not so much here as of yet. Still, my head moves toward fortification. I can't help it. The only downside to broadcast news is the fact that the commercials take up a huge portion of time. It's pathetic, yet I know money drives the planet. So sad. The weather is much warmer than last week. I still can't find a specific direction, though. Everything feels trivial when compared to world events. The house must continue to operate normally, yet thinking of what people are dealing with over there makes cleaning the kitchen seem unimportant. I suppose that's normal. If shit begins to escalate, my activities around this house will follow suit. Again, it's the military training kicking in when the global mood turns south. At least I don't have my head in the sand. 'Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived.' Unfortunately, I have no authority over anything these days. Just the kitchen. My control is limited to this little house. The other side of the world is a different story right now, unfortunately. I wish I could govern the actions of a few key assholes so the bulk of the people could remain safe. Another notch. 'Close your eyes, look deep in your soul; step outside yourself and let your mind go. Frozen eyes stare deep in your mind as you die. Close your eyes and forget your name; step outside yourself and let your thoughts drain. As you go insane... Go insane.' 1432. Laundry going. Not much else may take place today due to my ongoing preoccupation with the turmoil in the east. I'd like that fuckhead to spend some time in my garage with the music and colored lighting this evening. The visit wouldn't end well for him, however. The wrecking bar is always at hand. Shovel, too. I doubt anyone would miss him. Anyway... Wow, the weather is warm. I did not expect it to rise quite so much this quickly. It's nice. Almost enough, in fact, to improve my mood. I wish that was funny. The steps I've taken toward switching the tables and relocating the cabinet have advanced, yet not enough to get into the heavier aspects. I really need to rid the house of the spare mattress, too. That will open many doors. Don't expect much here anymore. I don't have the first clue as to where the site's purpose has gone. Her." 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February 28th, 2022 3:05pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Gral Vold read ( words) "Back when I had the hots for Julianne, there was an ill-found entry entitled 'The End of All Things and Julianne... Again'. Well, that was several years ago and I thought there was an end to be found. That essay may as well not exist. 1122 on the same Monday which closed the previous pile of shit. And the question again... Or is it more of a statement? The words at issue, 'He has no fuckin conception', and the response, 'He has no fuckin kids'. Ah, there we go again. Again. AGAIN. The defining crap of life all rolled into a simple sentence supporting the other. Yep. The world must be this way. Everything must be this way. Believe it. Whatever your past dictated or involved on the subject of family, there are only two ways to go, and both lead back to the same fucking idea, the rest of us be damned. 'Well, fuck him. He's dead and I'm blind'. Jesus, my fucking arm. 0648 on Tuesday now. Feeling pressure from people. Not good. I don't need anything else on my shoulders, although I must say the lack of full-time work does help me organize myself each day. I should be able to either deal with or push away those oft-formidable demands upon my time. 'Should'. Not one of my favorite words, either. If I have to push, it will be gentle for the time being. My problems are not their problems. Spunky Ned the bad attitude elf. 0752 and I'm beginning to daydream about that early part of the glow again. I worked at the carburetor shop while all morning long Jeff Blazy and Bob Lillie kept me company. Two locations. The older shop was fairly nice but too small. That was where I learned the operation. Eighty-nine. Everything was new. We were kind of new. I was at the same location for the first Christmas, I believe. Unless it was a year later. Maybe I'll try to build a timeline. I sure wish I had some of the photos from that period. Family, too. Anyway, Ned was one of the characters on the radio. Hilarious. I did not work at the shop for very long, though. If memory serves, I ended up back at the glass plant within a year or so. I'll tell you what... Leaving work during the holiday season to meet her and the sister was wonderful, heartwarming. I can only hope I appreciated it at the time. The fucking holidays ruled the roost back then, family or otherwise. Hmm... Maybe I'll get a wild hair and drive over the southern bridge to drown at the Jumper soon. That place did not exist in the south bay during the glow, but it did when I was at the big electronics store just a few years ago. The store was a destination at least three times a week. I still miss that goofy place, damn it. Nothing will ever resemble it in the future. Impossible. 1111 and the routine is finished. Laundry going. I have a few hours before meeting my boss at the bar for some money and a little powwow over upcoming work. I've been keeping track of reference points during the show for shooting images later. One of them just rolled on by, too. The camera is right next to me, but I have to move this machine and stand directly before the television for the process due to the fast lens. Right now I feel like resting after running around the house all morning. I'll get around to her soon enough. And speaking of images, you'll notice the Sea has returned here as a theme. I had four more large images of Viki prior to changing my mind. The bottom line is two aspects of including the standard four-image layout. First, I am fairly proud of many shots from the trip in ten, and second, I need to see more of a gorgeous model like I need a knife in my eye. I have to get away from that shit for a while. Everything generally boils down to either memories or feelings regarding desire. Both cause nothing more than heartache. The upside is I have several hundred more captures from the Sea and surrounding areas to share here, meaning no chance of running short. I even used one shot from a car show across the bay from a few years ago to splash the index. I have yet to publish it, though. Zero motivation. I fully intend to keep the curves the hell out of this content for a long while. I'm certain no one will miss them, not even yours truly. Bombay Beach is 552 miles from where I am sitting at this moment, but I would fill the tank and fucking drive there right now if there were no entanglements. I mean that. Something in that area of the state attached itself to my weakened heart more than eleven years ago and has not let go. Four years ago I revisited the same exact places around the Sea, as evidenced by some thoughts about the trip placed here not long after the fact. I honestly believe that trip was either much too late or very premature because I did not appreciate it enough at the time. Very few actuations of the shutter around the shore tell me that my head was not there. As much as I would love to visit again during my birthday month next year, the truth is I also need to branch out and follow the roads elsewhere, hence the tentative plan to drive all over central Nevada in either September or early next spring. There are two destinations pushing that idea ahead of many others, one being a stretch of highway and a small town I've been wanting to visit for a very long time. 0622 on Wednesday. Again with the arm. Coffee and my show. Yesterday went fine. Laundry, failure, routine, and a visit with the boss to catch up. I returned rather late but still prepared a nice dinner. Tonight will be much more comfortable because I'm not planning to go anywhere aside from a possible pick up from the cleaners. I'll avoid the market over there. The self preservation is again pushing me. I've had nothing in my eyes for days and wish to continue in this fashion. The only issues have been in my head. Smiles and closet doors. I remember too much and keep going back to the failing fantasy. Every day. The result is me remaining away from anything difficult. There is enough of that right here in the house. On top? Fifth season now, meaning I will be revving up the 17-35 and pointing it straight at the television throughout the next several hours. Good or bad no longer matters. I want to have a collection of her facial expressions on this machine. Oof it's cold for this area. Less than thirty above the roof this morning. Nothing compared to other places, but for me the temperature is down there a ways. Yikes. I'll have to remain vigilant about the house in this weather. The doors do not seal as well as they could. Today may be the day to add some stripping. Smiling faces haunting my every step. A blown kiss. A stare. More than one stare, actually. Cat eyes. 0809 and I have the house to myself for the remainder of the day. I fully intend to appreciate each second and care for my stuff at a relaxed pace, all the while following the stories and awaiting the next moments for grabbing her images from the television screen. In the house, all day. The garage is much too cold right now. 1208. Alcohol breeds suppression. Every day I am entering the same triangle, its sides closing as time passes. No matter what transpires or how I try to guide my thoughts and actions, the progression of that very same time brings the point of the triangle ever closer. There is nothing I can do. Eventually the point is reached, I fall flat on my face, only to once again see the clock's motion and the fucking triangle directly before me. I do not see a way out of this pattern, but one thing is certain... The morning cocktail shall remain. Triangles and circles. And as of this morning, I've shot more than twenty images of her on the television. I even went so far as to peruse a few online articles regarding capturing the screen with a DSLR. Marvelous. The basement is that much closer now. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:17am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 52mm, f5.6 1/125sec 1620. People are probably lighting up right now. Heh. The booze did its job today. This is critical to my survival. The routine was finished fairly early, leaving me plenty of time for going through a cabinet in the spare bedroom. I am going to clean and relocate it to the opposite side of its twin in the dining room. Looking through older stuff was very interesting, as well. I actually found all my old captive rings that I used to wear, meaning we likely have not been inside the cabinet for at least six or seven years. I'm actually wearing two of them right now. I've not had this type of jewelry in my ears since at least the time when we stored everything. 304LVM stainless, once again inside my body. Love. It. As for the cabinet, I need to await her arrival before proceeding further because most of the stuff belongs to her. That means I'll be able to finish the project tomorrow. 0648 on Thursday. Sixth season now. I plowed through the entire fifth season in just over twenty-five hours. Basket case. The sixth season means plenty of camera opportunities coming soon. By the third episode, if memory serves. This is without a doubt one of the most ridiculous activities I've ever attempted, although not surprising at all. Back to the Mojo Girl, January of zero nine in my house in the valley. I schlepped two different expensive pieces of video processing equipment from work -- borrowed using word of mouth and nothing more -- and went through holy hell trying to get her video off the damned digital recorder with cabling running from the living room to the office and back. I did my best to circumvent the content protocols and copy protection, but in the end failed for the most part. The audio was never a problem. All I could do was capture her in 720p rather than anything higher. It's better than nothing, though. Too bad I didn't have the D700 back then. The images I'm grabbing of Jamie are much improved over that little Sony. Whatever. The Mojo Girl is forever owned by me on this machine, the RAID setup, the site and YouTube itself. Five copies in total if you include the site backup which is next to the laptop. Jamie will soon be in the same category. 2052. Very unusual for me to be sitting at the IDE at this hour on any day. I have been preoccupied with the potential road trip all over central Nevada and not writing very much. I don't really care right now, either. Between the trip research and trying to capture Jamie on the television with the big camera, my mind is not here very often. The last four days my mind has been elsewhere. Far away. Hundreds of miles, but also right up there on the fucking screen. Pathetic, as always. 1427 on Friday the 25th. Not much to place here. I shot more images throughout the morning while working around the house. Some are decent, but honestly the best way to see her is simply watching the video. The resolution is not going to get much better. My camera is pretty awesome, too. The fact is the screen appears fluid and clear, but once the shutter is released a good portion of quality is lost. I will continue trying. As for all the other shit on the table here lately, I don't know what the hell to say anymore. For the foreseeable future, I will probably remain away from this for most of the time. I just don't see much reason to continue typing about problems without apparent solutions. Other subjects, like photography or the road trip may end up the lion's share. I have the routine finished and some dry cleaning rolling along. In roughly an hour I'm going to make a sweet and sour stew for dinner, leaving it to simmer for four hours. Aside from little details here and there, I'll have to clean the kitchen one more time so it's ready for the evening, but nothing else. My cabinet project is on hold until some items can be perused. Another project involves one of the Christmas light strings. I recently acquired several more lighted ornaments from four of the shows and need to make some modifications to a string in order for them to properly illuminate. I want to care for everything early so it's ready for next season. Not only do I have the original five ships, but additional models from the nineties. I sold mine in eleven when trying to amass resources and have missed them ever since. Now I have more than ever. Very nice. The tree will be pretty striking and hark back to the late glow. There is a chance we can attend the big spring auto show at the end of next month. If so, I'll have a prime chance to flex the big camera and capture detail. Last time, neither of us felt into the event and were up too late the night before, meaning we took off after only three hours and I didn't shoot much. Maybe thirty or so. Unacceptable. If this chance comes around, I plan to remain there at least half the day seeking all the detail possible. I need to get into the lens again, and this opportunity could be just what the doctor ordered since I have to wait for the road trip. 1653 and everything is finished. I did the prep work on the artichokes and have the stew simmering. It should reduce quite a bit before dinner, so I'll have to keep an eye on the liquid. I also finished cleaning out the cabinet so the next leg of that project can proceed in the morning. Right now the entire dining table is suspect because it has gathered everything which awaits the cabinet relocation. Once complete, I need to disassemble four of the models and box them like last summer. They will be stored, leaving the mattress in the old office the only obstacle remaining. I'll toss that to the wind and then move the dining table back into the office and set up the old table here. It seems ridiculous, but after realizing the value of the old table being back where it belongs, the next push was a massive amount of storage available in my garage. The only other part of today which has been interesting is the tree in the front yard. When we ventured out yesterday, I noticed a decent hole and crack near grade level. Not good. The tree is as old as the house -- just shy of seventy years -- and may be in danger of dying due to many factors. This morning I put in a call to the city and they sent a gentleman out to inspect the problem. He will be returning Monday with an arborist to judge whether or not the tree needs to go before coming down in a storm. The worst risk would be to people, second to the house itself (or my car which is often parked below). It is a heritage tree, meaning I cannot do anything permanent without permission from public works. At least I'll get more information in three days. I've been worried somewhat ever since the tree across the street was heeled thirty degrees by the wind. The first show. I gave up on the gangsters because I have been driving myself insane and agonizing over capturing images of you-know-who. Damn. Maybe my 'end of all things' bullshit was on the mark. This is going nowhere, like everything else. I'll have to remain focused upon the car show and road trip, lest I lose sight of anything bringing me joy anymore. 0647 on Saturday. Today is the 26th of the month. Tomorrow would be my thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, had things not unraveled so many years ago, although that unraveling led to my buddy and I heading out to the big mall often enough for me to notice that girl in the jewelry store. Upon asking her to dinner, the glow began to form. The other relationship going to pieces was a step in a good direction. The following four years had a few bumps, yet still was the ____ period of my life. I miss it every day. At least the ornaments brought some memories of the show back then being new and exciting, each of those four holiday seasons feeling as if I had never really experienced anything prior. It was wonderful. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:22am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f6.3 1/160sec Today I'll have the morning and then my quiet time will be over. Tomorrow, about the same thing only later in the afternoon. I really need the time, too. There is enough in my head to force me backwards if I can't keep my brain out of the shit. The camera and my little projects will have to keep me occupied of I am to remain upright while alone. I need to create my own distractions. They shall begin forsooth. The biggest eyes of the series have been all over the screen since yesterday morning. I can't rev up the camera this early, though, because clear thinking is required to capture the best exposure. This forces a recollection from twenty years back... One of the experimenters at our facility within NASA was quite the wing nut in every day life, yet brilliant underneath. Among his many talents, he used a medium-format Mamiya for photographing landscapes and such. Much of his work was in Alaska, alone. He had a sailboat tied up not far from where I now live and would head out completely alone each summer to sail north in search of ice. Not up the coast, mind you, but more than six hundred miles due straight west to get away from everything, then north. He would be out there for weeks at a time. Upon returning during early fall, he often shared some large prints of whatever he was able to pull into the lens. I'm referring to poster-size prints of his own work. My boss was also an enthusiast with his camera. In fact, he upgraded to one hell of a digital body while we worked there. Anyway, upon seeing the huge prints, I was floored by the quality of his photography and a while later my boss informed me that the researcher had previously been a photographer for National Geographic magazine. Unbelievable. According to what I was told, he did not find the work satisfying enough to usurp his degreed work in biology and geophysics, so he left the magazine to focus full-time on the science. I had the unreal fortune of working with him for several years before he flew the coop for a long while. And that is another story. The point of this was being reminded of Jerry because of my digital camera. He and I worked very closely because I often had to set up some extremely sensitive and complex electronic systems for his research. We talked often as I found him and what he had been trying to accomplish fascinating from the word go. Each week he reserved for experiments ended up being a huge mess due to the sheer number of cables running all over the room, a multitude of test equipment connected to the impact chamber, and tons (literally) of liquid nitrogen for cooling each target before testing. The entire gun room was cluttered with everything. I can't recall how many times he had weeks scheduled each year while I was there, but I'd have to say throughout my time at the range he visited on perhaps twelve occasions. The last week of research we performed for him seemed typical but soon became a major point of contention. Jerry rolled into my boss' office one morning to ask about the upcoming schedule, after which my boss called for a meeting with our facilities manager. Jerry ended up with his name on a week a few months into the future. The research came and went, and he left his target assembly in our building with the promise that he would soon return to disassemble it and cart the stuff back to his building. The week of research was very good for his theories and he was pleased with the results. So much so, in fact, that he gathered all of the data and notes very quickly upon us firing the final shot for the week. Very interesting. The testing was as complex as ever. Several weeks later, and after many calls to his office about the target assembly STILL taking up space in our gun room, we received a visit from Jerry's branch chief. That is when everything went to hell and made us laugh at the same time. We soon learned why he had been so specific in picking a date for the research, too. His boss informed us that he visited to be put on the schedule without a single word to anyone on the center. We were not normally in the loop of finance or anything much to do with scheduling, so we just assumed everything would play out as it had in the past. Apparently, Jerry had been under pressure for some definitive results of a type the organization wanted, and that data was quite different than his own wishes. He had a strong desire to prove his own theories and they did not wish to support his own vision, only that of the branch. So, Jerry -- being brilliant and reclusive throughout his entire life -- trotted to our building, secured a week for running his experiments, and grabbed the data as quickly as possible. The time of year had been chosen so he could dash away with the information, hop on his sailboat, and leave the country. His plan worked perfectly. All anyone could do was bow to his intelligence and ambition. After forty years working within NASA on some of the most eccentric research, Jerry had performed one final experiment on someone else's tab and disappeared. His boss informed us that he was in trouble, but honestly not THAT much trouble. The man was a legend. His only issue upon finally returning many months later was the agency gently requesting that retiring would be in his best interest. I sure do miss that guy. Wait a minute... I brought up Jerry and his amazing photography for a reason, and the story above is not it. Years before his magical deception (about which I still laugh on occasion), I had been perusing some very large prints of the coast of Alaska when I asked about his camera equipment. All of it was quite old. He then told me something I would never forget... 'Don't go digital', he stated with a smile, 'It's just a fad.' Heh. If he only knew. The man was a film purist; something I continue to respect. This entry is a mess. Stories, daily activities, whatever. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Sixth season eyes with hair tied back. Jesus fuck, anyway. I nearly can't deal with seeing her. Let the dream continue, unimpeded and ever-expanding. One day this will become the worst life interference imaginable. 0842 and I have my usual routine ahead once the coffee is gone. The cabinet plan will continue now that I have definitive thoughts regarding what to keep and store. I'll begin to go outside the norm once my chores are finished. Perhaps some laundry, too. In and around all that stuff I will be right here either writing about some stupid shit or performing more research for the (hopefully) upcoming road trip. I am becoming more excited with each passing day, and the camera is a good portion of that feeling. After using such a powerful imaging device to capture a woman on the television screen for days, I simply MUST go out in the world and do some real shooting. The basement is right there but I don't want to head in just yet. These guys on the show are so fucking homophobic that I think they may have set a record. Believable, considering such a way of life, yet unbelievable to hear sometimes. 'You don't have to do that, but you're sweet.' Really? HE is sweet? Consider what you just did, my dear. And don't even get me started on the 'sweetness', damn it. I'll run around the world completely out of control before reining in my thoughts and getting back to whatever may be normal. I cannot say enough, plus I cannot make it clear. Fucking hell, anyway. I can't fucking stand typographical errors on this site but just ran across one from more than a year back. Most people don't give a crap as long as they can understand the context, but I fucking hate them. 0909 and almost time to rise and take care of some stuff. This is going nowhere anyway. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:24am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec Ooh-fa, the images bring back memories of the first big camera more than eleven years ago. I splurged on the body and zoom lens as brand new, setting me back nearly $3500 in one shot, and with zero accessories to get going. I really had to scramble in order to have everything ready for the trip you see on this page. Damn, but that was a lot of money. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be forced to sell the entire outfit. Ugh. Years later I acquired the same body and lens, only to build my outfit once again. Now I have literally everything necessary for almost any type of shooting. I will not part ways with this camera regardless of what comes along in the future. And now a story... The zoom lens mounted to the camera right now is a 17-35mm f2.8. One of the best lenses Nikon ever made, both highly regarded and highly expensive, garnering nearly 2k for a new one. I bought it from a photographer via an auction two years ago for just over $700. Excellent deal. I immediately ran some experiments and found that the speed was amazing. Not long after, I was straightening the old office and fumbled the camera to the floor. It landed on the lens objective. I panicked, turned on the camera, and saw that there was a lens error. Neither the zoom or focus rings would rotate at all. The lens took the brunt of the impact but protected the body. I sent it to a shop in the Midwest for repair. It returned some three weeks later, nearly new again, but to the tune of $650. Ouch. Big lesson there. The upside is it's in near-perfect condition and still several hundred dollars beneath a new one. Had I dropped a full-price lens, the repair would have crippled me. The story is not real funny, but considering how much I baby that camera, I can still giggle a bit. 1228. Same day. I finished some of the organization left over from the cabinet but have yet to move the thing into the dining room. My head is all preoccupied with trying to find peace and consideration of the trip. My ambition to get into the lens again is very high right now. I love the camera more than I can put into words. Much of my time spent behind the viewfinder is more important than the quality of the images. It's a feeling, and one nearly impossible to describe. There is a different world inside that camera... A world over which I hold complete control. The closing sequence of the last episode combined with the early scenes of the next are bringing me the hell down in a bad way. Watching has become a compulsion. These two are like a two-pronged fork stuck in my heart. There is a finite amount of enjoyment or respect. A good portion of those are gone for me. Gone. I did not have a chance, and the one observation rising above all others comes from the gangsters of the fifties, 'you can always take comfort in the fact that you never had a choice.' True. Everything was beyond my control. Still, I have been viewed as very 'off' due to such facts. Jaded; opinionated; often very unpleasant as a result. I cannot disagree. I keep watching the series over and over and over, though. Why? Because I don't know what else to put on the television sometimes. Whenever I branch out, shit goes downhill due to me apparently being the only fucking human being alive who has some sensitivity about things. All alone there, assholes. Anyway, the closing scene leading to the next episode is really beautiful to watch. Unfortunately, anything I truly find beauty in these days always seems to have a gun pointed at my head to ensure I forget nothing. 0642 on garbage day. I am glad to be in the morning quiet today because yesterday I became too preoccupied for thinking straight. I also had to dash to the market earlier for two items, one of which will be heading to the city later. The other is in my coffee. The trips to the market or cleaners are the only reasons for leaving this house recently. I have little desire to go anywhere else. Each little tidbit pushes me to want to head across Nevada again, too. That may seem odd, but there is a huge difference between heading out the door to run errands and running into the middle of the high desert to feel both free of everything and connected to it at the same time. Last night was a bit of a turning point on that front, too. I began to plan an elaborate road trip six years ago and was usurped soon after. We ended up on the ship to Alaska instead. At the beginning of the plan for that cruise, I felt as if my road trip idea was squashed without feeling. By the time we took the trip, I felt the opposite. Now? I've been working on this route through central Nevada and the idea of a cruise came up again last night. I cannot disagree due to my first two cruise vacations being absolutely fantastic. Time will tell if we can make it work for next year. Ah... More reinforcement. The lines go through my head and combine with an inability to know what is actually happening on the other side of the equation. I can never know, trust, ask... NOTHING. All I can do is sit here and soak up the worry while venting in some manner so as to render me able to go through life with a smidgen of comfort from time to time. I have stated that I 'already know what is going on in there', but the truth is that does not relate to this crap. The reinforcement is rampant these days. The other side is just that, something over which I have zero control and often no way to understand or have any influence upon the jading which results from years within this overpowering machine. At long last in this latest entry, the title has finally come into play... Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived. But don't worry yourself. Everything remains inside me. Gral vold. Gral valen. The wall of life against which there can be no violence, unfortunately. I need to go into the middle of the Silver State and embrace the fucking desert. Every time I see that scene (just one of many, but it stands out due to some related conversation after the fact), my head goes all the way around every fucking possibility and each situation related to what I have revealed and/or discussed with 'them'. I'm really fucking sick of this continuing to railroad my thinking no matter what show or reference comes to mind, but there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. Look at the fucking breasts on the woman behind the piano. Jesus fuck... Their shape. Anyway, I'm pissed off all the time nowadays. No matter what I may be seeing, hearing or doing, something will eventually come along and send me into the ground again. Every time. The fact that I've seen this series through so many times means I already know what to expect, and I forgive some of it due to the characters and storyline. This one is deep in my heart, too, so I'm biased from the beginning. Other media? Fuck that. I may be a walking, talking oxymoron, but I feel what I feel and will never apologize for it. Plus, I'm the first to admit that much of the manner in which I live life is dead wrong, so shut the fuck up. I am stuck midway between deep appreciation for what plays out and feeling acute emotional pain due to the subject matter. And then something else comes along and brings me to tears. Pattern, you say? Oh, fuck yes. And remember... I know quite a bit of what is going on inside. Nearly 0800. Today will be spent doing the usual chores and garbage work along with my continuing efforts in switching the big tables around and moving that damned cabinet. I need to create some space here. Hopefully I can shove the bad shit behind me and be productive today. The weather is forecasted to be warmer -- which I can already feel somewhat -- so the garbage and work outside may be easier than last week at this time. Only 0835 so far, too. Lots of hours ahead, some will be spent alone. The cruise ship idea is lingering, and that brings a thought from the previous trip... Throughout that ten-day cruise, there was a blonde woman I spied from time to time who was gorgeous and seemed very goofy. Lots of drinking. She was always clad in some sort of cocktail dress while aboard ship, too. Very slinky, as if each day was a night out on the town. We ran across her and her partner here and there, usually walking in the opposite direction. There were more than two thousand people on that ship, so running into anyone more than once was actually not typical, but me being me meant my eyes were always searching for something. Anyway, the morning of disembarkation had us with just the carry items and in a bit of a line strolling through the promenade toward our waiting area. The couple was directly in front of us, her glass of champagne bouncing along while the guy tried to keep her in line. It was a funny sight because there we were at roughly ten in the morning and the stunning blonde was mostly drunk, giggling, and spilling the booze from one step to the next. At first I saw her form and face and was floored by the beauty, but in the end I saw some of her personality (maybe) and only wished to remain at a distance. One can never know about what is going on in another person's head or life. I still laugh about watching her waddle along with the glass, though. Super cute. Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:25am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f8 1/250sec Almost time to rise and work. My coffee is waning. 1232 on the same Sunday. Work in progress... Garbage, laundry, the rest is finished. I may have to scrub the shower when I get in there. It's overdue. Exciting, eh? At least I never run out of chores. Plenty of life's aspects are decidedly absent, but not the chores. 0743 and here I am for the day. Yesterday went from not knowing what to do all the way into very productive territory. I don't know what took place, either. Something, though. Maybe my desire to maximize the garbage cans. Whatever. Today is wide open like most. And back to last fall and one massive error in judgment which led to much of the reasoning behind me now living the way I do... Murderous rage... Impulses. Disdain is not enough of a descriptor any longer. The problem here is that I understand. I really do. There is no blame because what occurred at that time has also been taking place inside my head for many years; all the way back to the car dealer. Wow, actually, to the eighties, honestly. I recall being on the cusp of the eighty-eight Tahoe trip and lunging toward an individual close by. A person better avoided, yet I did not put forth the effort. I gave in quickly and reaped the rewards. A woman who resembled Lizzy in many ways. There was too strong a pull there. So, months ago was a simple event which could have been shoved aside and forgotten, yet my weak nature instead expanded out of control and buried me in the soil. Too bad, because now I am fairly angry about it. No control there. None. And this whole thing is my problem as it has grown for decades. The genesis was unavoidable, yet still I could have reacted and taken the affair off my typical highway with no exits. Understand? Probably not. 1051 and the routine is finished. Warmer weather helps. On Friday the guy from public works visited and is scheduled to return sometime today, meaning I can't leave the house until the meeting. It's important. I can't have any risk there. Too dangerous. as for the remainder of the day, I plan to fortify a bit and ensure that our emergency supplies are in good order. The shit show in eastern Europe is pretty much the most dramatic military activity around the globe since that horrible day in zero one. The likelihood of anything spreading in our direction is minimal, yet the idea of being prepared cannot be overstated. While outside I can hear the ocean waves. I am hoping to hear nothing else. Both of us have backgrounds in the military, meaning we are always in mind of what can develop quickly out of the smallest skirmish, and being ready just in case the shit hits the fan -- and I'm not referring to a shortage of toilet tissue -- is more important now than in many years. Little steps here and there can help. Second show all morning. No gangsters right now because I've been reminiscing about where I was in life when these episodes first aired. The current one premiered on 30 January of 1988. Wow. The first episode of the third season is very meaningful even though I was not watching at the time. It aired ONE DAY after first meeting the woman with whom I was in a relationship during the glow. Ugh. This program is so deeply embedded in my heart that I cannot find enough words to express the love. The characters have kept me company for so long that I can no longer live without them. In fact, they spawned that heartfelt message reaching out to anyone who felt the same. Unfortunately, my story was misinterpreted from the outset and I was flattened. I may go into it again, too. Not right now, however. 1213 and I've had the national news on through lunch. The situation is such that I am mostly worried for those in the area, but not so much here as of yet. Still, my head moves toward fortification. I can't help it. The only downside to broadcast news is the fact that the commercials take up a huge portion of time. It's pathetic, yet I know money drives the planet. So sad. The weather is much warmer than last week. I still can't find a specific direction, though. Everything feels trivial when compared to world events. The house must continue to operate normally, yet thinking of what people are dealing with over there makes cleaning the kitchen seem unimportant. I suppose that's normal. If shit begins to escalate, my activities around this house will follow suit. Again, it's the military training kicking in when the global mood turns south. At least I don't have my head in the sand. 'Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived.' Unfortunately, I have no authority over anything these days. Just the kitchen. My control is limited to this little house. The other side of the world is a different story right now, unfortunately. I wish I could govern the actions of a few key assholes so the bulk of the people could remain safe. Another notch. 'Close your eyes, look deep in your soul; step outside yourself and let your mind go. Frozen eyes stare deep in your mind as you die. Close your eyes and forget your name; step outside yourself and let your thoughts drain. As you go insane... Go insane.' 1432. Laundry going. Not much else may take place today due to my ongoing preoccupation with the turmoil in the east. I'd like that fuckhead to spend some time in my garage with the music and colored lighting this evening. The visit wouldn't end well for him, however. The wrecking bar is always at hand. Shovel, too. I doubt anyone would miss him. Anyway... Wow, the weather is warm. I did not expect it to rise quite so much this quickly. It's nice. Almost enough, in fact, to improve my mood. I wish that was funny. The steps I've taken toward switching the tables and relocating the cabinet have advanced, yet not enough to get into the heavier aspects. I really need to rid the house of the spare mattress, too. That will open many doors. Don't expect much here anymore. I don't have the first clue as to where the site's purpose has gone. Her."
February 28th, 2022 3:05pm pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Gral Vold
read ( words)
"Back when I had the hots for Julianne, there was an ill-found entry entitled 'The End of All Things and Julianne... Again'. Well, that was several years ago and I thought there was an end to be found. That essay may as well not exist. 1122 on the same Monday which closed the previous pile of shit. And the question again... Or is it more of a statement? The words at issue, 'He has no fuckin conception', and the response, 'He has no fuckin kids'. Ah, there we go again. Again. AGAIN. The defining crap of life all rolled into a simple sentence supporting the other. Yep. The world must be this way. Everything must be this way. Believe it. Whatever your past dictated or involved on the subject of family, there are only two ways to go, and both lead back to the same fucking idea, the rest of us be damned. 'Well, fuck him. He's dead and I'm blind'. Jesus, my fucking arm. 0648 on Tuesday now. Feeling pressure from people. Not good. I don't need anything else on my shoulders, although I must say the lack of full-time work does help me organize myself each day. I should be able to either deal with or push away those oft-formidable demands upon my time. 'Should'. Not one of my favorite words, either. If I have to push, it will be gentle for the time being. My problems are not their problems. Spunky Ned the bad attitude elf. 0752 and I'm beginning to daydream about that early part of the glow again. I worked at the carburetor shop while all morning long Jeff Blazy and Bob Lillie kept me company. Two locations. The older shop was fairly nice but too small. That was where I learned the operation. Eighty-nine. Everything was new. We were kind of new. I was at the same location for the first Christmas, I believe. Unless it was a year later. Maybe I'll try to build a timeline. I sure wish I had some of the photos from that period. Family, too. Anyway, Ned was one of the characters on the radio. Hilarious. I did not work at the shop for very long, though. If memory serves, I ended up back at the glass plant within a year or so. I'll tell you what... Leaving work during the holiday season to meet her and the sister was wonderful, heartwarming. I can only hope I appreciated it at the time. The fucking holidays ruled the roost back then, family or otherwise. Hmm... Maybe I'll get a wild hair and drive over the southern bridge to drown at the Jumper soon. That place did not exist in the south bay during the glow, but it did when I was at the big electronics store just a few years ago. The store was a destination at least three times a week. I still miss that goofy place, damn it. Nothing will ever resemble it in the future. Impossible. 1111 and the routine is finished. Laundry going. I have a few hours before meeting my boss at the bar for some money and a little powwow over upcoming work. I've been keeping track of reference points during the show for shooting images later. One of them just rolled on by, too. The camera is right next to me, but I have to move this machine and stand directly before the television for the process due to the fast lens. Right now I feel like resting after running around the house all morning. I'll get around to her soon enough. And speaking of images, you'll notice the Sea has returned here as a theme. I had four more large images of Viki prior to changing my mind. The bottom line is two aspects of including the standard four-image layout. First, I am fairly proud of many shots from the trip in ten, and second, I need to see more of a gorgeous model like I need a knife in my eye. I have to get away from that shit for a while. Everything generally boils down to either memories or feelings regarding desire. Both cause nothing more than heartache. The upside is I have several hundred more captures from the Sea and surrounding areas to share here, meaning no chance of running short. I even used one shot from a car show across the bay from a few years ago to splash the index. I have yet to publish it, though. Zero motivation. I fully intend to keep the curves the hell out of this content for a long while. I'm certain no one will miss them, not even yours truly. Bombay Beach is 552 miles from where I am sitting at this moment, but I would fill the tank and fucking drive there right now if there were no entanglements. I mean that. Something in that area of the state attached itself to my weakened heart more than eleven years ago and has not let go. Four years ago I revisited the same exact places around the Sea, as evidenced by some thoughts about the trip placed here not long after the fact. I honestly believe that trip was either much too late or very premature because I did not appreciate it enough at the time. Very few actuations of the shutter around the shore tell me that my head was not there. As much as I would love to visit again during my birthday month next year, the truth is I also need to branch out and follow the roads elsewhere, hence the tentative plan to drive all over central Nevada in either September or early next spring. There are two destinations pushing that idea ahead of many others, one being a stretch of highway and a small town I've been wanting to visit for a very long time. 0622 on Wednesday. Again with the arm. Coffee and my show. Yesterday went fine. Laundry, failure, routine, and a visit with the boss to catch up. I returned rather late but still prepared a nice dinner. Tonight will be much more comfortable because I'm not planning to go anywhere aside from a possible pick up from the cleaners. I'll avoid the market over there. The self preservation is again pushing me. I've had nothing in my eyes for days and wish to continue in this fashion. The only issues have been in my head. Smiles and closet doors. I remember too much and keep going back to the failing fantasy. Every day. The result is me remaining away from anything difficult. There is enough of that right here in the house. On top? Fifth season now, meaning I will be revving up the 17-35 and pointing it straight at the television throughout the next several hours. Good or bad no longer matters. I want to have a collection of her facial expressions on this machine. Oof it's cold for this area. Less than thirty above the roof this morning. Nothing compared to other places, but for me the temperature is down there a ways. Yikes. I'll have to remain vigilant about the house in this weather. The doors do not seal as well as they could. Today may be the day to add some stripping. Smiling faces haunting my every step. A blown kiss. A stare. More than one stare, actually. Cat eyes. 0809 and I have the house to myself for the remainder of the day. I fully intend to appreciate each second and care for my stuff at a relaxed pace, all the while following the stories and awaiting the next moments for grabbing her images from the television screen. In the house, all day. The garage is much too cold right now. 1208. Alcohol breeds suppression. Every day I am entering the same triangle, its sides closing as time passes. No matter what transpires or how I try to guide my thoughts and actions, the progression of that very same time brings the point of the triangle ever closer. There is nothing I can do. Eventually the point is reached, I fall flat on my face, only to once again see the clock's motion and the fucking triangle directly before me. I do not see a way out of this pattern, but one thing is certain... The morning cocktail shall remain. Triangles and circles. And as of this morning, I've shot more than twenty images of her on the television. I even went so far as to peruse a few online articles regarding capturing the screen with a DSLR. Marvelous. The basement is that much closer now.
Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:17am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 52mm, f5.6 1/125sec
1620. People are probably lighting up right now. Heh. The booze did its job today. This is critical to my survival. The routine was finished fairly early, leaving me plenty of time for going through a cabinet in the spare bedroom. I am going to clean and relocate it to the opposite side of its twin in the dining room. Looking through older stuff was very interesting, as well. I actually found all my old captive rings that I used to wear, meaning we likely have not been inside the cabinet for at least six or seven years. I'm actually wearing two of them right now. I've not had this type of jewelry in my ears since at least the time when we stored everything. 304LVM stainless, once again inside my body. Love. It. As for the cabinet, I need to await her arrival before proceeding further because most of the stuff belongs to her. That means I'll be able to finish the project tomorrow. 0648 on Thursday. Sixth season now. I plowed through the entire fifth season in just over twenty-five hours. Basket case. The sixth season means plenty of camera opportunities coming soon. By the third episode, if memory serves. This is without a doubt one of the most ridiculous activities I've ever attempted, although not surprising at all. Back to the Mojo Girl, January of zero nine in my house in the valley. I schlepped two different expensive pieces of video processing equipment from work -- borrowed using word of mouth and nothing more -- and went through holy hell trying to get her video off the damned digital recorder with cabling running from the living room to the office and back. I did my best to circumvent the content protocols and copy protection, but in the end failed for the most part. The audio was never a problem. All I could do was capture her in 720p rather than anything higher. It's better than nothing, though. Too bad I didn't have the D700 back then. The images I'm grabbing of Jamie are much improved over that little Sony. Whatever. The Mojo Girl is forever owned by me on this machine, the RAID setup, the site and YouTube itself. Five copies in total if you include the site backup which is next to the laptop. Jamie will soon be in the same category. 2052. Very unusual for me to be sitting at the IDE at this hour on any day. I have been preoccupied with the potential road trip all over central Nevada and not writing very much. I don't really care right now, either. Between the trip research and trying to capture Jamie on the television with the big camera, my mind is not here very often. The last four days my mind has been elsewhere. Far away. Hundreds of miles, but also right up there on the fucking screen. Pathetic, as always. 1427 on Friday the 25th. Not much to place here. I shot more images throughout the morning while working around the house. Some are decent, but honestly the best way to see her is simply watching the video. The resolution is not going to get much better. My camera is pretty awesome, too. The fact is the screen appears fluid and clear, but once the shutter is released a good portion of quality is lost. I will continue trying. As for all the other shit on the table here lately, I don't know what the hell to say anymore. For the foreseeable future, I will probably remain away from this for most of the time. I just don't see much reason to continue typing about problems without apparent solutions. Other subjects, like photography or the road trip may end up the lion's share. I have the routine finished and some dry cleaning rolling along. In roughly an hour I'm going to make a sweet and sour stew for dinner, leaving it to simmer for four hours. Aside from little details here and there, I'll have to clean the kitchen one more time so it's ready for the evening, but nothing else. My cabinet project is on hold until some items can be perused. Another project involves one of the Christmas light strings. I recently acquired several more lighted ornaments from four of the shows and need to make some modifications to a string in order for them to properly illuminate. I want to care for everything early so it's ready for next season. Not only do I have the original five ships, but additional models from the nineties. I sold mine in eleven when trying to amass resources and have missed them ever since. Now I have more than ever. Very nice. The tree will be pretty striking and hark back to the late glow. There is a chance we can attend the big spring auto show at the end of next month. If so, I'll have a prime chance to flex the big camera and capture detail. Last time, neither of us felt into the event and were up too late the night before, meaning we took off after only three hours and I didn't shoot much. Maybe thirty or so. Unacceptable. If this chance comes around, I plan to remain there at least half the day seeking all the detail possible. I need to get into the lens again, and this opportunity could be just what the doctor ordered since I have to wait for the road trip. 1653 and everything is finished. I did the prep work on the artichokes and have the stew simmering. It should reduce quite a bit before dinner, so I'll have to keep an eye on the liquid. I also finished cleaning out the cabinet so the next leg of that project can proceed in the morning. Right now the entire dining table is suspect because it has gathered everything which awaits the cabinet relocation. Once complete, I need to disassemble four of the models and box them like last summer. They will be stored, leaving the mattress in the old office the only obstacle remaining. I'll toss that to the wind and then move the dining table back into the office and set up the old table here. It seems ridiculous, but after realizing the value of the old table being back where it belongs, the next push was a massive amount of storage available in my garage. The only other part of today which has been interesting is the tree in the front yard. When we ventured out yesterday, I noticed a decent hole and crack near grade level. Not good. The tree is as old as the house -- just shy of seventy years -- and may be in danger of dying due to many factors. This morning I put in a call to the city and they sent a gentleman out to inspect the problem. He will be returning Monday with an arborist to judge whether or not the tree needs to go before coming down in a storm. The worst risk would be to people, second to the house itself (or my car which is often parked below). It is a heritage tree, meaning I cannot do anything permanent without permission from public works. At least I'll get more information in three days. I've been worried somewhat ever since the tree across the street was heeled thirty degrees by the wind. The first show. I gave up on the gangsters because I have been driving myself insane and agonizing over capturing images of you-know-who. Damn. Maybe my 'end of all things' bullshit was on the mark. This is going nowhere, like everything else. I'll have to remain focused upon the car show and road trip, lest I lose sight of anything bringing me joy anymore. 0647 on Saturday. Today is the 26th of the month. Tomorrow would be my thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, had things not unraveled so many years ago, although that unraveling led to my buddy and I heading out to the big mall often enough for me to notice that girl in the jewelry store. Upon asking her to dinner, the glow began to form. The other relationship going to pieces was a step in a good direction. The following four years had a few bumps, yet still was the ____ period of my life. I miss it every day. At least the ornaments brought some memories of the show back then being new and exciting, each of those four holiday seasons feeling as if I had never really experienced anything prior. It was wonderful.
Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:22am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f6.3 1/160sec
Today I'll have the morning and then my quiet time will be over. Tomorrow, about the same thing only later in the afternoon. I really need the time, too. There is enough in my head to force me backwards if I can't keep my brain out of the shit. The camera and my little projects will have to keep me occupied of I am to remain upright while alone. I need to create my own distractions. They shall begin forsooth. The biggest eyes of the series have been all over the screen since yesterday morning. I can't rev up the camera this early, though, because clear thinking is required to capture the best exposure. This forces a recollection from twenty years back... One of the experimenters at our facility within NASA was quite the wing nut in every day life, yet brilliant underneath. Among his many talents, he used a medium-format Mamiya for photographing landscapes and such. Much of his work was in Alaska, alone. He had a sailboat tied up not far from where I now live and would head out completely alone each summer to sail north in search of ice. Not up the coast, mind you, but more than six hundred miles due straight west to get away from everything, then north. He would be out there for weeks at a time. Upon returning during early fall, he often shared some large prints of whatever he was able to pull into the lens. I'm referring to poster-size prints of his own work. My boss was also an enthusiast with his camera. In fact, he upgraded to one hell of a digital body while we worked there. Anyway, upon seeing the huge prints, I was floored by the quality of his photography and a while later my boss informed me that the researcher had previously been a photographer for National Geographic magazine. Unbelievable. According to what I was told, he did not find the work satisfying enough to usurp his degreed work in biology and geophysics, so he left the magazine to focus full-time on the science. I had the unreal fortune of working with him for several years before he flew the coop for a long while. And that is another story. The point of this was being reminded of Jerry because of my digital camera. He and I worked very closely because I often had to set up some extremely sensitive and complex electronic systems for his research. We talked often as I found him and what he had been trying to accomplish fascinating from the word go. Each week he reserved for experiments ended up being a huge mess due to the sheer number of cables running all over the room, a multitude of test equipment connected to the impact chamber, and tons (literally) of liquid nitrogen for cooling each target before testing. The entire gun room was cluttered with everything. I can't recall how many times he had weeks scheduled each year while I was there, but I'd have to say throughout my time at the range he visited on perhaps twelve occasions. The last week of research we performed for him seemed typical but soon became a major point of contention. Jerry rolled into my boss' office one morning to ask about the upcoming schedule, after which my boss called for a meeting with our facilities manager. Jerry ended up with his name on a week a few months into the future. The research came and went, and he left his target assembly in our building with the promise that he would soon return to disassemble it and cart the stuff back to his building. The week of research was very good for his theories and he was pleased with the results. So much so, in fact, that he gathered all of the data and notes very quickly upon us firing the final shot for the week. Very interesting. The testing was as complex as ever. Several weeks later, and after many calls to his office about the target assembly STILL taking up space in our gun room, we received a visit from Jerry's branch chief. That is when everything went to hell and made us laugh at the same time. We soon learned why he had been so specific in picking a date for the research, too. His boss informed us that he visited to be put on the schedule without a single word to anyone on the center. We were not normally in the loop of finance or anything much to do with scheduling, so we just assumed everything would play out as it had in the past. Apparently, Jerry had been under pressure for some definitive results of a type the organization wanted, and that data was quite different than his own wishes. He had a strong desire to prove his own theories and they did not wish to support his own vision, only that of the branch. So, Jerry -- being brilliant and reclusive throughout his entire life -- trotted to our building, secured a week for running his experiments, and grabbed the data as quickly as possible. The time of year had been chosen so he could dash away with the information, hop on his sailboat, and leave the country. His plan worked perfectly. All anyone could do was bow to his intelligence and ambition. After forty years working within NASA on some of the most eccentric research, Jerry had performed one final experiment on someone else's tab and disappeared. His boss informed us that he was in trouble, but honestly not THAT much trouble. The man was a legend. His only issue upon finally returning many months later was the agency gently requesting that retiring would be in his best interest. I sure do miss that guy. Wait a minute... I brought up Jerry and his amazing photography for a reason, and the story above is not it. Years before his magical deception (about which I still laugh on occasion), I had been perusing some very large prints of the coast of Alaska when I asked about his camera equipment. All of it was quite old. He then told me something I would never forget... 'Don't go digital', he stated with a smile, 'It's just a fad.' Heh. If he only knew. The man was a film purist; something I continue to respect. This entry is a mess. Stories, daily activities, whatever. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Sixth season eyes with hair tied back. Jesus fuck, anyway. I nearly can't deal with seeing her. Let the dream continue, unimpeded and ever-expanding. One day this will become the worst life interference imaginable. 0842 and I have my usual routine ahead once the coffee is gone. The cabinet plan will continue now that I have definitive thoughts regarding what to keep and store. I'll begin to go outside the norm once my chores are finished. Perhaps some laundry, too. In and around all that stuff I will be right here either writing about some stupid shit or performing more research for the (hopefully) upcoming road trip. I am becoming more excited with each passing day, and the camera is a good portion of that feeling. After using such a powerful imaging device to capture a woman on the television screen for days, I simply MUST go out in the world and do some real shooting. The basement is right there but I don't want to head in just yet. These guys on the show are so fucking homophobic that I think they may have set a record. Believable, considering such a way of life, yet unbelievable to hear sometimes. 'You don't have to do that, but you're sweet.' Really? HE is sweet? Consider what you just did, my dear. And don't even get me started on the 'sweetness', damn it. I'll run around the world completely out of control before reining in my thoughts and getting back to whatever may be normal. I cannot say enough, plus I cannot make it clear. Fucking hell, anyway. I can't fucking stand typographical errors on this site but just ran across one from more than a year back. Most people don't give a crap as long as they can understand the context, but I fucking hate them. 0909 and almost time to rise and take care of some stuff. This is going nowhere anyway.
Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:24am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec
Ooh-fa, the images bring back memories of the first big camera more than eleven years ago. I splurged on the body and zoom lens as brand new, setting me back nearly $3500 in one shot, and with zero accessories to get going. I really had to scramble in order to have everything ready for the trip you see on this page. Damn, but that was a lot of money. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be forced to sell the entire outfit. Ugh. Years later I acquired the same body and lens, only to build my outfit once again. Now I have literally everything necessary for almost any type of shooting. I will not part ways with this camera regardless of what comes along in the future. And now a story... The zoom lens mounted to the camera right now is a 17-35mm f2.8. One of the best lenses Nikon ever made, both highly regarded and highly expensive, garnering nearly 2k for a new one. I bought it from a photographer via an auction two years ago for just over $700. Excellent deal. I immediately ran some experiments and found that the speed was amazing. Not long after, I was straightening the old office and fumbled the camera to the floor. It landed on the lens objective. I panicked, turned on the camera, and saw that there was a lens error. Neither the zoom or focus rings would rotate at all. The lens took the brunt of the impact but protected the body. I sent it to a shop in the Midwest for repair. It returned some three weeks later, nearly new again, but to the tune of $650. Ouch. Big lesson there. The upside is it's in near-perfect condition and still several hundred dollars beneath a new one. Had I dropped a full-price lens, the repair would have crippled me. The story is not real funny, but considering how much I baby that camera, I can still giggle a bit. 1228. Same day. I finished some of the organization left over from the cabinet but have yet to move the thing into the dining room. My head is all preoccupied with trying to find peace and consideration of the trip. My ambition to get into the lens again is very high right now. I love the camera more than I can put into words. Much of my time spent behind the viewfinder is more important than the quality of the images. It's a feeling, and one nearly impossible to describe. There is a different world inside that camera... A world over which I hold complete control. The closing sequence of the last episode combined with the early scenes of the next are bringing me the hell down in a bad way. Watching has become a compulsion. These two are like a two-pronged fork stuck in my heart. There is a finite amount of enjoyment or respect. A good portion of those are gone for me. Gone. I did not have a chance, and the one observation rising above all others comes from the gangsters of the fifties, 'you can always take comfort in the fact that you never had a choice.' True. Everything was beyond my control. Still, I have been viewed as very 'off' due to such facts. Jaded; opinionated; often very unpleasant as a result. I cannot disagree. I keep watching the series over and over and over, though. Why? Because I don't know what else to put on the television sometimes. Whenever I branch out, shit goes downhill due to me apparently being the only fucking human being alive who has some sensitivity about things. All alone there, assholes. Anyway, the closing scene leading to the next episode is really beautiful to watch. Unfortunately, anything I truly find beauty in these days always seems to have a gun pointed at my head to ensure I forget nothing. 0642 on garbage day. I am glad to be in the morning quiet today because yesterday I became too preoccupied for thinking straight. I also had to dash to the market earlier for two items, one of which will be heading to the city later. The other is in my coffee. The trips to the market or cleaners are the only reasons for leaving this house recently. I have little desire to go anywhere else. Each little tidbit pushes me to want to head across Nevada again, too. That may seem odd, but there is a huge difference between heading out the door to run errands and running into the middle of the high desert to feel both free of everything and connected to it at the same time. Last night was a bit of a turning point on that front, too. I began to plan an elaborate road trip six years ago and was usurped soon after. We ended up on the ship to Alaska instead. At the beginning of the plan for that cruise, I felt as if my road trip idea was squashed without feeling. By the time we took the trip, I felt the opposite. Now? I've been working on this route through central Nevada and the idea of a cruise came up again last night. I cannot disagree due to my first two cruise vacations being absolutely fantastic. Time will tell if we can make it work for next year. Ah... More reinforcement. The lines go through my head and combine with an inability to know what is actually happening on the other side of the equation. I can never know, trust, ask... NOTHING. All I can do is sit here and soak up the worry while venting in some manner so as to render me able to go through life with a smidgen of comfort from time to time. I have stated that I 'already know what is going on in there', but the truth is that does not relate to this crap. The reinforcement is rampant these days. The other side is just that, something over which I have zero control and often no way to understand or have any influence upon the jading which results from years within this overpowering machine. At long last in this latest entry, the title has finally come into play... Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived. But don't worry yourself. Everything remains inside me. Gral vold. Gral valen. The wall of life against which there can be no violence, unfortunately. I need to go into the middle of the Silver State and embrace the fucking desert. Every time I see that scene (just one of many, but it stands out due to some related conversation after the fact), my head goes all the way around every fucking possibility and each situation related to what I have revealed and/or discussed with 'them'. I'm really fucking sick of this continuing to railroad my thinking no matter what show or reference comes to mind, but there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. Look at the fucking breasts on the woman behind the piano. Jesus fuck... Their shape. Anyway, I'm pissed off all the time nowadays. No matter what I may be seeing, hearing or doing, something will eventually come along and send me into the ground again. Every time. The fact that I've seen this series through so many times means I already know what to expect, and I forgive some of it due to the characters and storyline. This one is deep in my heart, too, so I'm biased from the beginning. Other media? Fuck that. I may be a walking, talking oxymoron, but I feel what I feel and will never apologize for it. Plus, I'm the first to admit that much of the manner in which I live life is dead wrong, so shut the fuck up. I am stuck midway between deep appreciation for what plays out and feeling acute emotional pain due to the subject matter. And then something else comes along and brings me to tears. Pattern, you say? Oh, fuck yes. And remember... I know quite a bit of what is going on inside. Nearly 0800. Today will be spent doing the usual chores and garbage work along with my continuing efforts in switching the big tables around and moving that damned cabinet. I need to create some space here. Hopefully I can shove the bad shit behind me and be productive today. The weather is forecasted to be warmer -- which I can already feel somewhat -- so the garbage and work outside may be easier than last week at this time. Only 0835 so far, too. Lots of hours ahead, some will be spent alone. The cruise ship idea is lingering, and that brings a thought from the previous trip... Throughout that ten-day cruise, there was a blonde woman I spied from time to time who was gorgeous and seemed very goofy. Lots of drinking. She was always clad in some sort of cocktail dress while aboard ship, too. Very slinky, as if each day was a night out on the town. We ran across her and her partner here and there, usually walking in the opposite direction. There were more than two thousand people on that ship, so running into anyone more than once was actually not typical, but me being me meant my eyes were always searching for something. Anyway, the morning of disembarkation had us with just the carry items and in a bit of a line strolling through the promenade toward our waiting area. The couple was directly in front of us, her glass of champagne bouncing along while the guy tried to keep her in line. It was a funny sight because there we were at roughly ten in the morning and the stunning blonde was mostly drunk, giggling, and spilling the booze from one step to the next. At first I saw her form and face and was floored by the beauty, but in the end I saw some of her personality (maybe) and only wished to remain at a distance. One can never know about what is going on in another person's head or life. I still laugh about watching her waddle along with the glass, though. Super cute.
Bombay Beach, California, 12-15-10 7:25am Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f8 1/250sec
Almost time to rise and work. My coffee is waning. 1232 on the same Sunday. Work in progress... Garbage, laundry, the rest is finished. I may have to scrub the shower when I get in there. It's overdue. Exciting, eh? At least I never run out of chores. Plenty of life's aspects are decidedly absent, but not the chores. 0743 and here I am for the day. Yesterday went from not knowing what to do all the way into very productive territory. I don't know what took place, either. Something, though. Maybe my desire to maximize the garbage cans. Whatever. Today is wide open like most. And back to last fall and one massive error in judgment which led to much of the reasoning behind me now living the way I do... Murderous rage... Impulses. Disdain is not enough of a descriptor any longer. The problem here is that I understand. I really do. There is no blame because what occurred at that time has also been taking place inside my head for many years; all the way back to the car dealer. Wow, actually, to the eighties, honestly. I recall being on the cusp of the eighty-eight Tahoe trip and lunging toward an individual close by. A person better avoided, yet I did not put forth the effort. I gave in quickly and reaped the rewards. A woman who resembled Lizzy in many ways. There was too strong a pull there. So, months ago was a simple event which could have been shoved aside and forgotten, yet my weak nature instead expanded out of control and buried me in the soil. Too bad, because now I am fairly angry about it. No control there. None. And this whole thing is my problem as it has grown for decades. The genesis was unavoidable, yet still I could have reacted and taken the affair off my typical highway with no exits. Understand? Probably not. 1051 and the routine is finished. Warmer weather helps. On Friday the guy from public works visited and is scheduled to return sometime today, meaning I can't leave the house until the meeting. It's important. I can't have any risk there. Too dangerous. as for the remainder of the day, I plan to fortify a bit and ensure that our emergency supplies are in good order. The shit show in eastern Europe is pretty much the most dramatic military activity around the globe since that horrible day in zero one. The likelihood of anything spreading in our direction is minimal, yet the idea of being prepared cannot be overstated. While outside I can hear the ocean waves. I am hoping to hear nothing else. Both of us have backgrounds in the military, meaning we are always in mind of what can develop quickly out of the smallest skirmish, and being ready just in case the shit hits the fan -- and I'm not referring to a shortage of toilet tissue -- is more important now than in many years. Little steps here and there can help. Second show all morning. No gangsters right now because I've been reminiscing about where I was in life when these episodes first aired. The current one premiered on 30 January of 1988. Wow. The first episode of the third season is very meaningful even though I was not watching at the time. It aired ONE DAY after first meeting the woman with whom I was in a relationship during the glow. Ugh. This program is so deeply embedded in my heart that I cannot find enough words to express the love. The characters have kept me company for so long that I can no longer live without them. In fact, they spawned that heartfelt message reaching out to anyone who felt the same. Unfortunately, my story was misinterpreted from the outset and I was flattened. I may go into it again, too. Not right now, however. 1213 and I've had the national news on through lunch. The situation is such that I am mostly worried for those in the area, but not so much here as of yet. Still, my head moves toward fortification. I can't help it. The only downside to broadcast news is the fact that the commercials take up a huge portion of time. It's pathetic, yet I know money drives the planet. So sad. The weather is much warmer than last week. I still can't find a specific direction, though. Everything feels trivial when compared to world events. The house must continue to operate normally, yet thinking of what people are dealing with over there makes cleaning the kitchen seem unimportant. I suppose that's normal. If shit begins to escalate, my activities around this house will follow suit. Again, it's the military training kicking in when the global mood turns south. At least I don't have my head in the sand. 'Violence. The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived.' Unfortunately, I have no authority over anything these days. Just the kitchen. My control is limited to this little house. The other side of the world is a different story right now, unfortunately. I wish I could govern the actions of a few key assholes so the bulk of the people could remain safe. Another notch.
'Close your eyes, look deep in your soul; step outside yourself and let your mind go. Frozen eyes stare deep in your mind as you die. Close your eyes and forget your name; step outside yourself and let your thoughts drain. As you go insane... Go insane.'
1432. Laundry going. Not much else may take place today due to my ongoing preoccupation with the turmoil in the east. I'd like that fuckhead to spend some time in my garage with the music and colored lighting this evening. The visit wouldn't end well for him, however. The wrecking bar is always at hand. Shovel, too. I doubt anyone would miss him. Anyway... Wow, the weather is warm. I did not expect it to rise quite so much this quickly. It's nice. Almost enough, in fact, to improve my mood. I wish that was funny. The steps I've taken toward switching the tables and relocating the cabinet have advanced, yet not enough to get into the heavier aspects. I really need to rid the house of the spare mattress, too. That will open many doors. Don't expect much here anymore. I don't have the first clue as to where the site's purpose has gone. Her."
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