Mors Cordis (Squished) Mature content No. 371 Published May 6th, 2023 11:11am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I don’t understand anymore. I was right there... Right fucking there, and on more than one occasion. I thought everything would be ok during those moments. Now what do I have? Moments? No, they are gone. Can I be there? Doubtful. Is anything on the horizon, maybe? I don’t see how. Off the rails. I am beginning to feel that I don’t want anyone listening, and such a thought can only stem from anger. All these years have had me in need of the correct type of understanding. I no longer believe such a thing exists. Too much time has passed and I’ve lost faith in the word ‘good’. There has been a change related to what I thought could have been a mistake the other day. I realized the possible error and was then pushed into a place requiring more understanding than I was capable at the time. Between last night and this morning I saw that the mistake was only in my head, and nothing in reality was as close as I had calculated. Well, I’ve made little mistakes before, so on the surface it is not a big deal. The underlying implication is far worse. The change is likely permanent and there is not one damned thing I can do about it. The last two days’ worth of visions tried to push me toward a situation I had thought to be real. And? I should have known in advance of all that shit that no good could come of any of it. Nothing good whatsoever. I am now sitting here under the full weight of the world being different than I had believed. I cannot be any clearer because my situation is now completely fucked. Close for a moment or two. Close. I could see some, but on the previous occasion I saw much more. Not as much as in the parking lot, though. In the parking lot I saw almost everything. But still... Close for a moment or two. Close, for sure. Right fucking there. My head painted pictures almost immediately. I wanted so much, and the desire caused me to be nearly nonsensical when speaking. I fell over my words as my eyes fell over themselves. I did not know how to react to the knowledge that is now destroying me a little at a time, and with each passing moment. I still don’t know how to react, nor can I compute a way of living through the days without going completely insane. I was close, but not for long. Nothing ever lasts. The moment in the parking lot was just that... Quick to pass. Everything goes away. When some of it returns, I know in advance that no only am I one moment closer to the ground, but there is less time to attempt to understand all this fucking shit. She was right there and I could not operate my brain very well. I needed so much – NEED so much – that the pain inside traveled from acute to chronic. I can’t do anything about anything because on too many occasions to list I gave away all my power along with any future potential. Close for a moment or two, and the power vacuum and transfer was painfully clear. The power is all gone. Close is meaningful, but it is also very bad for me. I need to be close, yet the only likely result is more pain. I’ve seen it; felt it. I do not want any more pain. Unfortunately, the effort of trying to avoid the damage is for naught. I cannot win this battle. At least I know such a fact. I was close. The change in the previous paragraph will soon be combined with whatever the fuck happened last year, and I fear I will not survive the composite. I am not made of aluminum. I am much softer now. Today is Saturday. I have some work around the house and then on the motorcycle. Everything went in reverse yesterday because he has a line on someone who can powder coat the frame, and that means all of the parts have to be removed, including the front end. Until now, that section has remained untouched. I dove into the project yesterday afternoon with some nice blackness flowing from the speakers and pulled as much as I could before quitting for the day. I believe by tomorrow I will have the frame stripped bare. Upon its return, I will build the entire bike once again, and hopefully that will be the last time. I am spent because of being too ‘nice’ a person in this life. People do not take advantage of me, though. I always volunteer and still do not know why. Whatever. Everything comes to an end. This, too, shall pass. My downhill slide has been increasing in velocity. I don’t see a way of slowing the process. This is not good. Every time there is some sort of change in my life, it is toward the negative. I can take little more of this. The cunt just took the stand in this trial on the display. Well, she is just one of many cunts. Right now I can’t find a harsher word. Eh... The show doesn’t matter. Let us recap some key words. Desperation. Desire. Derealization. Damned. Black. Darkher. Sin. Sinful. That’s plenty, methinks. The little MF can’t help me anymore and it is no longer funny. I used to be a person with a heart, yet the latter is dying. Loss. Lost. Close. I fail to understand why everything must be as it is. I just don’t fucking understand. Yesterday was a notch. I am hoping there will not be another for some time. The desperation has increased, as has the derealization. I am damned to the blackness of life. I will never find anything darkher than that which has already come to pass. My thoughts are full of sin. They are sinful. There you go. Sunday morning. The coffee is just what I needed today. Of all that I need, the coffee is the only thing available. I don’t believe the other aspects of life can be illuminated now or in the future. There were little ties; little links to which I clung for quite some time. They are gone. The reckless times are gone, too, and sometimes I feel as if I will not be able to breathe without some semblance of whatever the feeling was at the outset of those trips abroad. As far as needs go, the trips now stand as the only real escapes. Everything since – and yes, I mean in the last twelve years – has fallen short. I say twelve because my final flight to the goblet in search of whatever was this month in the year of eleven. That was also the last promise. I believe back then the trips did not feel as wondrous as they do now. My circumstances were quite different and I feared being held to the point of no options. Well, here it is... All those needs and zero options, and the entire cauldron of burning shit has resulted from my actions, inactions and decisions. And the best part? The mindset which guided those things, dating all the way back to aught-three when I ran into the arms of Juliette, was born of just two situations. They continue to grow in importance. I think about those periods every single day and wonder how my little world may have developed had neither of them come to pass. Half the need is due to one, the other half due to the second. Two and two. I don’t believe anything is out there awaiting me. I also don’t believe that the way my mind operates is based in reality. I have never felt so fucking alone. Sad. Defeated, too. I have not been playing a game, yet there is a space inside me that knows I’ve lost. No doubt. I don’t know what will happen today beyond the norm. Dry cleaning and a bit of laundry await my attention, and seeing that I will have some hours to myself, I can work on those items in and around my usual Sunday business. I will be overly sad the entire time, and during certain moments the sadness will turn to anger. The latter emotion will only last so long, however, because I will soon realize that there is nothing I can do about it. That is when the feeling of having been defeated will take over and I will return to rampant sadness. The work is but a distraction. I have no recourse whatsoever... In anything. Oh, I always have my favorite, comfortable media, something agreeable to eat or drink, and the familiarity of the house, yet none of it is enough. Some people would give much for this type of living condition, and I know that I must remain thankful for being here. Don’t worry, I am not one of those assholes who thinks the entire world is against me. There are many positives to this situation. Unfortunately, seeing them is often very difficult because I am heeled over so fucking far. I need to clean the windows again. Did I appreciate all that shit at the time? Did I think about it enough and realize I was in the middle of situations which may never return? I don’t know. I recall one huge dinner at the El Dorado (the Roxy Bistro restaurant, to be more specific) during which I had been motivated to speak to my partner regarding all those big, lavish dinners in Nevada when I was young. She then told me that since the kids were at the table, a good plan was to relay the stories and tell them that they were embarking on a wonderful journey, one in which every moment needed to be properly appreciated. We were seeing the change of an era, for lack of a better description, and the young people needed to learn. I hope I lived that evening as best I could. Right now, I just don’t know. The passage of time is beyond everything in life and often more powerful than any other force on earth. I remember the dinner (and many others), but not in much detail anymore. I will say that my position in life at the time appears pretty fucking wonderful compared to where I presently reside. My heart is being destroyed from the inside out. The same goes for memories of the goblet (and beyond) from those periods when I sought a very specific type of comfort just to stay alive. I needed a few things from the woman on my arm, and often. I cannot speak such terms here, but rest assured they have nothing to do with desire or any of that other shit. I need to recall the feeling of being where I felt most comfortable and keep those memories close to my dying heart. In the end, they may be all I have left in the world. 0849. The morning is progressing more slowly than I would have guessed. That is fine. There are rarely enough hours in each day for me to truly find anything emotionally comfortable or mentally satisfying, so if the clock seems to be crawling, all the better. One more cup of coffee is on tap right now, and then... Whatever. I don’t feel well today at all. Sadness took over last night and has not let go of me yet. Maybe once I kick off the housework routine things will improve. I need the Rolodex in my head to cease its flipping. Those pictures will not fill the holes inside me. The other day immediately made me angry, yet within moments the feeling faded and I realized that I had no place to be upset at all. Sad, perhaps, but anything further would be unfair. I do not like to see doors closing – even those that are forever behind me – and I felt one do exactly that. There have been others in recent weeks, too. I can’t sit here and describe any of them, though, so you’ll just have to fucking live with it. The fact remains that another facet of my life has disappeared and, like everything else these days, there seems nothing I can fucking do about it. Anger over the situation is not going to help right now. It will creep in sometimes, however, so if I am to go about my days with any semblance of order and patience, I’ll have to come to terms with the emotion and let it fall away. As I have realized more and more lately that my feelings do not matter in the least, I tend to keep everything to myself and become very defensive whenever a situation does not go my way. In the interest of maintaining the peaceful nature of this home, if I do not communicate with anyone, no problems can arise. All the information remains inside me. No speaking equals no concern of rebuttal, and that in turn leads to quiet. Believing that my feelings do not matter in the grand scheme, there is a constant fight inside to either work on the issue or leave everything status quo, the latter being the more damaging option, of course. At least I am already accustomed to living like a human time bomb. Anger from the other day will likely fade and eventually leave me alone. This is tough, though, and I can’t even say why. More sadness. The anger will be replaced by sadness just like everything else. There is nothing I can do about it, nor is there anyone listening. Why am I still talking here? Is something going to come of this shit in the future? No. The only change can be an increase in the amount of data on the server(s). I don’t know what else to do with myself these days. This endeavor, my housework, and whatever other activities I have around the house pretty much make up my entire life lately. If I remove any one of them, I’ll have less reason to do anything. I have zero answers, as usual. Perhaps I am typing here because I have nothing better to do with my time. I was right there. I was there. Now I am here. Where? Nowhere. I was there... The memories are fresh. The fact that recalling the most important aspects of life seems to usurp activities better attacked is a part of the reason I am so down right now. Nothing seems to have enough power to pull me from the din and allow me to be more productive. Yes, the bike took much of my time, but I honestly believe I worked at it mostly to use my tools. I love hand tools because of the past. My dad had me helping with automotive work all the way back to the early seventies, and then I held three different jobs which required tools. Now I have a massive set and enjoy using them whenever the need arises. I suppose that is a good thing. Working with my tools does have the ability to push the sadness out for a while, although when it slams me again I feel worse. This is yet another example of the fact that I am dying inside. The most important needs and desires are most decidedly absent and have nothing to do with hand tools. Everything I do is to distract myself from reality, from the media to hobbies. I don’t know what the fuck else to do these days. Maybe I’ll continue on this slow decline until the grave. Just imagine what I might say at the end. I was right there. That’s one statement. Want another? Now I am nowhere... All but dead inside. The clock indicates 1109 and the time has come for a break. I took care of the earlier Sunday business and tossed a few things out of the refrigerator. Once my cocktail is gone, I’ll work on the dry cleaning and further prepare the garbage cans for tomorrow morning. The inside of my head is a rotating slide projector of images that have disappeared from life and may never return, the most prominent of which just happens to be the French girl. Yes, her again. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do my best not to gush as I have in the past because she is frozen in time and may as well reside in a separate universe. Everything along those lines is so fucking far away that I can barely understand this existence. Once again... I just don’t fucking understand. The clock pays no mind, ever. Time rolls over me like a locomotive bent upon my destruction, and that right soon. The French girl has a detrimental effect upon my psyche, yet still she has been included within this entry. Sometimes I have to see her. That is all. I don’t see this day becoming anything out of the ordinary. Early mornings often find me angling for something different. A few short hours later, however, I realize anything different may not exist. I live in a dream world. Dreams cannot be controlled. I am at a loss yet again. There is no way out of this situation. My heart is burning, and not in a romantic context. Burning. Inflamed. Monday morning. This is the 155th Monday morning since I left my job. Interesting. My head is flip-flopping from bad to good over and over today. I don’t believe this will last very long, though, because the difficult situations with regard to the house which have recently arisen seem to be ironing themselves out, meaning the bigger picture is stabilizing. That is not to say everything is peachy, though, because there are always issues which come out of the clear, blue sky. We just have to deal with them one at a time and make clear, positive plans. That is happening right now. It’s a good thing. My cart must remain upright and without interruption. I cannot survive otherwise. Monday. I need to keep myself organized today no matter where my mood may lead. I am concerned about the way I felt Friday and how it may affect my ability to work through the coming days. The situation was tough in the beginning. That much is certain. I seemed to have calmed down between Saturday and Sunday, too. This morning? I don’t know what to think. All I see are aspects of life disappearing one at a time, and I need to know where this process may lead. The anger went away. That is better than nothing. The quiet, alone time today could not possibly be more welcomed. Sometimes I desperately need the space to live my days however I see fit. Aside from much of eleven, this is the first time in my life that I’ve held so much control over time. That fact is another of which I must remain mindful. I really hope I can keep all of the disdain to the rear and move in a positive direction today. Nothing will be served by me flipping the fuck out. My last cup of coffee is next to me. Afterward I am going to tackle the typical weekday chores and some laundry. The motorcycle frame left the garage yesterday and will not return until the end of the week, at which time the project will continue. Between now and then, I will try to organize my stuff out there. I will probably spend some time here in the office to organize, as well. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by concern for the future, cleaning and straightening often help. I am pretty fucking sick of everything feeling either stagnant or impossible, the latter ruling my thoughts these days. This is one of those times in which I need to appreciate the existing positives and try to push the bad shit away. Otherwise my tiny world will go to hell very quickly. I can’t have that. Friday slammed me pretty good, too. Add that shit to the pile. There have been too many failures to accurately tally. Trust me. Plenty. I am beginning to look in that most negative of directions again, thinking that no matter where this set of rails may lead, I always have the option. The idea may also lead me to some very satisfying moments, albeit each one of them temporary. I’ll have to think about this crap before deciding on a possible switch. Considering something that had been (off and on) important has been ruined, I may need to look at the switch more carefully and with increased consideration prior to pointing my searchlight in such a direction. I don’t know right now. The topic is heavy enough to cause me to slow everything in life just for the space to think. Those parts of life which are impossible continue to nag me, as if to taunt me with the past and then pull back just as I fall down and become overly angry. I don’t like that sort of thing. Another disastrous morning, I see. Nothing helps; nothing has the power to alleviate those desperate feelings. I still try, though. Why? The honest answer is a distinct lack of options, nothing more. No options. I used to have resources and the vision to preserve my escape routes for when things became dire (or came to a head, really). The last several years have found me being slowly reduced by my own lack of good decisions and need to be comfortable now rather than making plans and sacrificing for the future. I did this... I placed myself in the position of having zero options, and when you combine that with all the other fucking difficulties and impossible dreams, one can see my dilemma (read: conundrum). This morning is but one of hundreds, you see. One of very many. This means not a damned thing has changed in many years, and may well NEVER fucking change. Isn’t that nice? I do not have any recourse. None. Tell me otherwise. I dare you. I don’t know how many more of these days I can endure before smashing a ‘gnat with a wrecking bar’. Laugh it up. None of this is enjoyable. 1036. What a crappy morning. That is not to say there have been problems in reality, but only inside my head. Everything seems to be catching up to me after many years. The bottom line is that I never chose a direction and merely bounced from one situation to the next and sought comfort at each step, rather like the past three years. Unlike many people, I did not have a career in mind at an early age. I had no clue as to what I wanted to do. As a result, I did not do anything. The last bastion was more than a decade back when I attempted to switch careers via enrolling in an online degree program. Well, that went bad because it became too difficult and too much of an intrusion upon my precious cozy life. Prior to that period, the only glimmer was many years earlier when I made a local connection that could have paved the way to the film industry. A lateral move during that time was impossible due to a lack of experience, and the thought of beginning such a journey felt as if I would not have arrived where I needed to be within a reasonable amount of time, nor would I have been embarking upon a career with short-term rewards. I saw a long journey requiring many years of study to rise from the floor of the industry, and felt that by the time my involvement in said industry became truly rewarding I would have been too old to deal with many aspects of the same. I’ve gone over this before. The point is I am seeing the fruits of my inactions. I am a hole in the world, possibly something worse. I am not certain, but the feeling today is that the time for anything aside from what I’ve been doing for many years is over. Gone. The truck, my drawings, those ideas of beautiful or stirring places to live... None of them will advance. Of all the difficulties in life which resulted from those two shit situations and being routed by others, this one is literally all mine. Along those lines, the other people in my life have offered only encouragement and support with regard to a career. I cannot hold one fucking atom of life responsible for where I reside at this very moment. This is yet another real, nice clambake. I did this and am not happy or proud of the path I have taken in life. I never did anything, so now I have nothing. Just a matter of time. Thank you again, CC. I hope this day doesn’t go sideways. No one needs to hear my shit. I am not angry with many people right now, either. My name is at the top of the list. I am still a good person with many qualities, so imagine how I feel toward those who have helped to shape me into this ball of disdain. The routing, bullshit, and lies. The mail carrier placed the items in my garage atop a set of filthy ratchet ties. I do not like anyone entering the garage without being invited, nor do I appreciate the mail sitting on greasy items. The situation is akin to a ‘double slap’, and the next time I see the same carrier, I will be sure to express my mood. I have enough nails being driven into my head without added shit from people with whom I am unfamiliar. My garage is off fucking limits to everyone save for a precious few. On the upside, I received a tentative first-time wave from the morsel who works as an au pair for the couple two doors up the street. What I wouldn’t give to demonstrate my overwhelming, latent desire for that little beauty. Eh... Nothing good is on my horizon. Nothing. I have become a caricature of myself. Laugh it up. Tuesday. I did not work in the office yesterday because I lost direction at some point. Oh, Plenty of work was completed, but underneath it all was a feeling that not only have I gone nowhere, I already reside in the same. Moving into the office may have brought up memories, however. I should try today. There is a feeling when I work in this room which goes back several years to a time when I still had an inkling of possibility inside. I should embrace the memories and take care of some things here after the routine. This is one of those mornings in which I am thankful to have hours of peace and quiet. The time cannot be overstated. 1036. Half of my daily routine is finished. I need to wait a little while for one cat to vacate the spare bedroom before doing the rest. I don’t want to disturb him. The cats are royalty in this house. If you think that is odd, either you have never had pets or you need to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. And? You have been a part of the problem with this world all along and you should do everyone a favor and commit suicide. Animals are superior to humans. They do not fuck each other over for a Goddamned percentage. 1200 straight up. I went to the smoke shop. Very exciting. Wednesday. Coffee. Dragons. I feel a little further down with each passing day. The format of the site has gone back to the earlier configuration (as you have likely already noticed) with two columns and the larger title image. The change means all included images are now smaller, although the main content should be easier to follow thanks to shorter line lengths. I suppose I became bored with the appearance. Whatever. The master pages make sitewide alterations fairly simple. At the top of this entry, I mentioned that I do not understand. That statement has become the largest issue inside me. I do not understand. To combine the shit situations with my current condition adds up, however. They led me to this lack of reasoning and dire feeling. Each day I am a little bit lower on the ladder of life and still searching. I’m in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Very bad. Each morning I see possibilities, housework and whatever else I need to do for maintaining quality of life here at home, yet within a few hours, I lose direction and contemplate all that is gone. I won’t even get into the missing pieces which have left gaping holes inside me... Problems piled upon problems. I am still rising from bed every morning and doing the minimum, but at what point does my brain disallow anything further? When do I sit down and decide to never get up again? The little enjoyments, peace and quiet are still holding their ground, for now. When I watch my shows, I think of the film industry and the way it shined years ago. When I work on the bike or my little truck, I recall the RF and aerospace research industries and the knowledge I gained during those years. What the fuck have I done in the last three years? Nothing. I’ve gone through the motions. I don’t know how to break out of this din, nor do I see a path to understanding in the future. And the morning has been a disaster. Splendid. Marvelous. Today is just another fucking clambake. 1019 is what I see on the clock and I already finished the daily routine. The cocktail is next to me, as always. I still have dry cleaning to do at some point today. I would also like to work in the office for a little while. Whenever I feel very down, throwing things into the trash helps. What was of great importance many years ago is now less valuable. I am seeing my peace of mind as more important than some possessions. Obviously, I have some very pricey items which will remain with me for the duration, such as a few watches, my camera and computers. The truck, as well, and my tools. I’ve already tossed much into the trash this year, donated other items, and plan to do additional organization. All I need is motivation, yet no matter how dire some chores seem, I can’t always move in a productive direction. It is damned rare, actually. At the very least right now, I have a good plan for lunch. There is a positive... I’ve been working with what we have in the house rather than spending money by ordering meals. Once lunch is out of the way, I have no clue as to how the remainder of this day will progress. Nothing has the power to stop me from thinking. Good God, Charlotte’s fucking face is a wonderland of unique beauty. I could live on her chin. Shut up. Desperation and desire are perpetual, and my thoughts are nowhere near dangerous. Just... Shut up. Leave me alone. I might love that woman. A little bit, anyway. She is not the only one, either. I suppose from here on in, I shall have lunch and then do my remaining housework. Ah... The au pair just walked by again. Interesting. Anyway, as long as I can keep my head up long enough to reach the close of business hours, everything will be fine today. Too often does the afternoon find me sans ambition. I can’t have that shit right now because it may lead to more dire thinking in the coming weeks. Thursday morning, fairly early. I have some time before the morning business. The show is still running despite my becoming annoyed with it at times. I may opt to switch later today. Right now, I need the familiarity to go with my coffee. Today has to be more productive than yesterday. Some items can only be put off for so long before shit comes to a head, and the time has come for me to push further this week. The plan is to have everything out of the way prior to lunch because I need to feel better than I have for quite a while. Weeks of this, perhaps. Moreover, the motorcycle frame should be returning either today or tomorrow and I’d like to have everything around the house organized so assembly can begin. Once my coffee is gone, I’ll shower, take care of half the routine and then drive to the market for a few things. Upon returning, the day will appear brighter than it does right now. 0851. The morning business is out of the way. There was a tiny flash yesterday and I must put it out of my head if I am to proceed as outlined above. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond my life and the effort in shoving it away is nearly insurmountable most days. I am beginning to feel the same type of desperation as the summer of ninety-four when I saw pictures of a life I can never lead. The flash was similar. I believe if I can stick to my plan for this morning, the nature of being busy for a while will help my mind tremendously. I see 1107 on the clock and my day is moving along as well as I had hoped. The routine is finished, I went to the market, and the single load of dry cleaning is running. The reward? A nice, big glass of depressant here on the table. There were a dozen pairs of black yoga pants at the store and every single one of them was frightening in one way or another. A cute face was in the parking lot as I exited, nothing more. She is already gone. I am pleased to have so much out of the way already, too. Now the relaxation this evening can feel well-deserved. As for the remaining hours, I will probably work on a combination of organization and ridding myself of items that are no longer necessary. Most of that will be in the garage. My neighbor and one of his club members are next door working on the Street Glide this morning. I’ll probably pop over there from time to time and see if I can lend a hand. Many years ago I became quite educated with regard to audio wiring and such. I have a long history of building audio systems and solving issues within the same. I may have helpful information if it becomes necessary. For the time being, however, the plan is to relax and stay off my feet for a little while. Help granny make the bed. Cut it; punch it; gun it. Those were coined forty years ago and I still remember the wonder of driving up the mountain to what was very likely my favorite destination of my life. Help granny make the bed. And then I stood there in the old lobby – this was prior to the remodel and expansion of the hotel – and locked eyes with a prostitute. She was similar to the bevy of cocktail servers that roamed all four of the major resorts back then. My eyes were wide in those days, especially when something stirring was nearby. Nevada and my upbringing have effectively shaped me into much of what I am at this very moment. Help granny make the bed, indeed... I won’t even touch the combination of Nevada and the glowing years. I don’t have the fucking words. Punch it; gun it; cut it. Do it... NOW. Picture a 1979 Ford Ranchero GT rolling and winding through the snowy trees as my head anticipated the unequaled comfort of being absorbed into the very adult nature of the wondrous gaming culture. Once you see it, help granny make the bed. I am more than happy to lose my fucking mind because what will remain of it shall reside when the world was better. Friday and all is not well. Yesterday went fine. I spent some time going outside the norm, too. The bed is unmade, however, meaning someone needs to fix everything. Do it, please. For all our sakes. I am worsening by the day, the anger is still building and being suppressed – rather like the inherent compression inside a stick of trinitrotoluene, but with increasing layers – and at some point everything is going to go sideways for the last time. I can only live like this for so long. If the past is any indication of my processes, the most likely outcome will be me reaching a point in which I become unwilling to continue in this vein without at least one dire need forced into position, and such an operation is generally accepted as a self-fulfilling prophecy. One desperate act; no forgiveness of self. That will be that. I don’t know when, of course. I also do not see another possibility for the future. The fact remains that I am becoming less and less capable of holding my life together, the little enjoyments be damned. There is far too much missing for me to expect any material things to fill the voids. I am doing nothing more than watching the calendar roll by, hence my heart dying a little at a time, one day at a time. I believe too many years have been burned away for me to expect anything positive to come along and save me. My thoughts continue to decline each morning. Yesterday was a complete disaster for two reasons, so I suppose today is better (so far). But I can’t stop dreaming and thinking that the wonder of the world is gone forever. Not good. The process which turned yesterday into a disaster was due to the future appearing black, yet no matter how bad things become, I still sit here and write, as well as going through the motions every day. I have no idea of why, unless there truly is a glimmer inside (somewhere) that a bit of good can come along. I cannot know for sure, though. I can only suspect. There has to be something, and I suppose such an idea is not unusual. All of this trouble is beginning to feel unfair, to be honest. That’s a tough one, too. I have to be careful with my use of that word because I am physically pretty damned comfortable in this house and the world can hardly be responsible for whatever may be taking place inside my heart. I just don’t fucking know of the proper wording anymore. Maybe the pain inside is driving me to reach. Whatever. Nothing will fucking change, anyway, so perhaps my words don’t matter in the least. One optimum path may be to stop waiting. 0859. I have the last of the coffee next to me. Today feels a tad different than those throughout the past several months. Sadness seems to be in a battle with anger. The bottom line of the anger is generally depression, anyway, so maybe this is not so unexpected. The more I think of where I have been, the further away happiness seems to reside. The gradient between the past and present continues to widen, meaning those years now appear better than mere weeks ago. I have found myself reminiscing more often during the evenings than I had at the outset of this year. This is not good because I feel the passage of time more acutely and its effect upon me deepening. Nathalie’s shoulders are a world in and of themselves. No equal. None. Damn it. There are two distinct root causes of my current condition and I can’t detail either of them here. Another clambake. Oh, I’ve gleaned plenty, yet there is no way anyone can understand what I am saying much of the time. Housework? Yeah. Shopping? Yep... That, too. The feelings and ideas inside my head? Never. This shit has become so convoluted that sometimes when I go back a few entries even I have no clue as to what I was trying to say. Clambake. Dying heart. Nothing helps. I will be moving away from this and into my housework very soon. I will also switch from coffee to a cocktail in order to relax the drama inside my brain. I’ve lost too much to remain upright and stable, the latest of which is really hurting. I don’t know of another way to live my life these days. To be perfectly honest, I am trying to get through the hours and days in such a manner so as to avoid becoming overly angry. I know in advance that anger will not solve anything, although I can admit that sometimes I am so weak that there is no stopping such a process. Frustration, desperation, sadness... They all end up leading to anger and I have found that no matter what may be taking place on a given day, there will always be a straw. Remaining mindful of the result prior to the fashion could help me think. So, here I sit at 1034 with the usual stuff finished. Well, everything except the fat glass of whiskey sitting here on the table. The booze and the housework partially squared off my brain for a little while. I suppose that’s all I can ask anymore because when everything slams me at once, I can’t easily handle the resulting mood. Not only that, but the level of caring inside me with regard to the house begins to diminish. I am in a cycle and do not know how to escape it. Ugh... She is talking through her teeth again. All the respect in the world for Lena, however. She is fantastic. The character? I don’t believe I wished more heavily for anyone on this show to die. Anyway, the day is going to progress as it will. Rather like the universe, as some may say. They have faith that the universe will unfold as it should. For myself, the faith is not so straightforward. I see a crooked line leading to pitfalls aplenty. The day will move along because there is no stopping the passage of time. I have no clue as to how I will emerge from the railroading of the clock. The sinful realm is forcing me to see just how skewed my thinking has become. Justification is an uphill battle; rationalization a daily process. Ah, fuck... There she is... The relational analysis made flesh. What I wouldn’t give to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Whatever. I am not slated to be happy in this life. And where was I? Ah... My brain and the way it has grown to put desperation and fulfillment into perspective. This is bad. And I just learned that one of the actors portraying a key interest within this series was but nineteen years old when she first appeared. I had no idea. Such talent at that young an age. Wow. Back to the topic sentence, shall we? The sinful dreams and thinking have turned my life on its ear, to be honest. I was not expecting to be slammed by so much in a very short period of time. In the beginning, everything was pointed toward sheer physical desire, whereas the last few months – most of this year, actually – have forced me to realize that my heart became involved and is dying as a result of such depth of emotion. I should not be feeling this strongly about her or any of the others. I don’t like to use the word ‘should’, yet sometimes there is no other operator with adequate power for conveying the depth of my despair. And believe me... I am in despair every fucking moment of every fucking day. If someone had told me years ago that I would be conjuring imagery related to the damaging dreams (or worse), in no way would I have trusted in such thinking. No fucking way. But now? I am deep into the cause, and the cause is damned. I don’t know where to go from here, either. My heart is black and burned as a result of far more than I can lay out on the fucking site. Ah... Christ. I really don’t need to see Charlotte and her amazing fucking facial structure right now. Worship is unhealthy, yet what I actually, truly worship is a set of traits, not the individual examples of the same. Charlotte just happens to be on the screen at this very moment. Um, the other worship? I can’t talk about it, nor can I be clearer than the previous paragraph. I have no wish to be labeled or slighted. Think what you will. I don’t fucking care because other people do not affect my stance, nor can they have any effect upon my future. And? I have a deep-seated need to be in gentle contact with some of Charlotte for the purpose of conveying my appreciation for her as a woman. When I say things like that, the indication is that I am far out of balance. Well, I am. If you don’t like the occasional gushing about the nether regions of certain actors, go read someone else’s detritus and leave me the fuck alone. All I really want is the right type of beauty to tell me everything will be ok. And yes, I realize she probably does not exist and never will. So be it. Nothing good is on my horizon. 1111. I can feel the push of the anger from deep inside my being. Some of that is the result of my mind loosening due to alcohol, but at least I know as much. I often go back in time within my head because those situations felt more open. The future seemed not necessarily bright, but full of possibilities at the very least. There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to see, and tons of projects. I had thought there was plenty of time for everything. When I move back in time, I can see myself doing whatever the hell I was doing, and I don’t see the same cloud that resides above me right now. I did not heed anyone’s apparent wisdom supposedly gained through age. That is natural and likely still takes place today. I can recall those garage and driveway gatherings interspersed with young people dating back many years (while I’ve lived in this house). I have always been regarded as very intelligent and knowledgeable, and the resulting conversation generally led me to convey the following sentiment to those of my junior: Do this; don’t do that’ don’t end up like me. None of that ever went anywhere, though, because the light in which I bathed did not appear as negative to other people. There is a subject that has been swirling around inside my brain for months and I can’t bring it up here. Not in detail, anyway. Trust me when I say that the subject in question is something which can cause me to commit suicide within moments of considering the ramifications of my lifestyle throughout the last three years. And there is another fucking slap within the same topic. Unfortunately, I can’t go into that one, either. It is all too sensitive and I only bring this up because as a human being on earth, I know that I affect and have affected other people, some of which are beautiful souls deserving of happiness and fulfillment. I cannot say more. I brought up this difficulty because I have to remain mindful of everything just in case shit comes to a head. Context is everything. Saturday morning, 0706. Coffee, whatever. Today is the first day of a show I attended faithfully many years ago. We will not be attending, though. I haven’t been to that type of show for many years and would probably not have an easy time visiting again, although I am not opposed to the possibility. I simply feel that life has changed so much that nothing will ever be as relaxing, interesting or enjoyable as in the past. During the late nineties and early aughts, the whole world appeared vastly different than it does today. The feeling of walking into the first tent during Winter and smelling the propane heat is akin to the scent of the air conditioning inside the massive dark rides at Disneyland. Two such situations which stirred my heart unlike anything before or since. When I think about the show going on without me, the idea makes me sad because of all the changes. The other type of show comes along a few times per year and we’ve attended some in the past. Those are different memories and very different emotions. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to attend the type of event which began today (the bigger one is in January, too). I just don’t see it. Yesterday I cleared off my bench and cleaned everything so it looks much better. I also cleaned the tools. I need to ensure that my work areas out there remain free of clutter. The frame will return at some point and I’ll be ready for assembly. I may venture out there again today in order to continue gathering crap that can head into the trash. Maybe I can fit my fucking head in the can, too. Other than my typical daily routine and the organization, I don’t know what this day has in store. Though I may come across at times as if things are ok and I am working through the days just fine, inside me is the same shit – worsening by the minute, actually – and none of it has a snowball’s chance in hell of being alleviated. All I am trying to accomplish is sort of a rounding of my daily activities so as to break up the heavier information. The girl does not leave my brain. The others do once in a while, yet usually when they fade something else comes along (such as the other day in the fucking parking lot) and sends me flying off the path to which I try to adhere. The key words never stop influencing my life. They have been slicing off little pieces of me for so long that I don’t know of another way to live anymore. My garage work is but a distraction. It is necessary, but not so much that I can’t put it off or do the bare minimum instead. Nothing is so important these days. I’ll be out there later and daydreaming of everything that I can’t have or those things missing for years. I will not slack off on the housework. There were dreams during the night but I can barely remember them. Nothing bad, though. Just some weird places, perhaps. I have not dreamed like last year for some months. I suppose that is a good thing. Missing her is not good, however. The visions grip me from time to time (I cannot describe them for reasons of good form) and I always lose my way when they come along, so dreaming is often better than seeing. At least in the dreams I feel understood. Ugh... My least favorite character again, rife with smugness. Double ugh, maybe. So, dreaming once in a while is fine, and I typically can’t recall the imagery by morning. Those frames I do remember have caused more damage than most of what has actually taken place in reality. They have altered the way I see myself, and worse, the manner in which I view society. Not good. When I dream of strange places or difficult situations, awakening afterward helps me realize that I am honestly ok in this life. I am fairly comfortable. The damaging dreams have had little effect upon that feeling when I awaken from strange imagery. Seeing the light of the morning still feels good. I seem to be basking in it right now. The shit will eventually creep in and darken my day, so I will try to hold on to the comfort as long as I am able. Every day is ruined at some point. There seems to be nothing I can do to avoid one type of disaster or another. I can already feel disaster on the horizon this morning and the time is merely 0806. Not good. This is not going to be good for the rest of my day. I will have to be careful and disallow the anger from taking over. Part of the reason my heart is in such disarray is due to the manner in which I’ve been ‘squished’ in the past, not to mention the same taking place more recently; a situation rather surprising at my age, although people are still fucked in the head regardless of the passage of time. Squished. That is a term coined during the eighties. ‘Walked-upon’ might be better. Taking advantage of someone else? I don’t believe that is adequate for conveying the feelings inside me. It’s off just enough to not fit. There was a case of something similar during the glow (believe it or not), and I did my best to get the point across that I would greatly appreciate people taking me seriously. [As an aside, I will say that at present there are a few key individuals who have been made aware of the depth of such a statement.] The period was slightly difficult at times but worked itself out by the end of the glowing years. Being squished is not the same, however. Just trust me... The term may have been born of a very different part of life, but it is the only word which seems to cover the way I feel about certain people. There are plenty of tertiary descriptors that I could glean here, too. I don’t want to do that because revealing some information is very dangerous. I’ve been squished quite enough in this life, and during the late glow it made me smile. Now the same situation makes me angry because I have developed into a powerless mass bent upon everything impossible. There you go. I am not an easy person with which to deal when things become difficult, but being squished is completely unfair. Shoot me. Well, if you even know what the fuck I’ve been saying, that is. I wish I could understand the reasoning behind the rampant squishing because the lack makes me angry. 0831. One more cup of coffee, I guess. The morning has eased its pressure from my head. My lack of understanding why this period must be as it is does not help matters, although I can still work with what I have. That is a good thing. My life has been slowly falling apart for a year and I do not see anything slowing the process unless I can find something inside me with the power to push beyond this shit. I believe at some point I will run out of time and be forced to make some serious changes. I believe I am capable of improving one aspect of myself which until now has not been very pleasant to consider. The fact is that the issues press me every day and I rarely see a way to alter my path in life. I’ve been worsening inside, meaning if I can rise and improve myself on the outside, one may help to offset the other, even if only slightly. I do not wish to completely unravel before my time. No one is going to help me, either. They can all fuck off in whatever way is necessary for leaving me the hell alone. I’ll do what I need to do and must be left without interference... Or else. I can take small steps today and see how I feel after the business is done. I wish someone was there to listen. 0910. The last of the coffee is right here by my keyboard. The show has been paused due to serious thinking on my part, and that is a situation which does not come along very often. My brain becomes so fucking preoccupied with loss, desire and desperation that everything else in life is graded aside with a lot of force. The power of the desire is going to be my largest hurdle. I need a left turn to wherever, and unlike those I’ve taken in the past. Help granny make the bed, indeed. When my coffee is gone, I’ll have to look around and work on whatever seems best right now. I don’t know what that is yet. A part of me is dying and I don’t know how to stop the process. Maybe I truly do need others for such a thing. Too bad. I could have turned out better than this if a few key periods had not unfolded as they did. What a fucking waste of talent. Maybe I’ll work on the idea of empty space again. That was good last week, and since tomorrow is garbage day, I can get some things together this afternoon and maximize the process. There is too much crap in this house (as well as my garage) and I have been feeling less of a connection with my possessions than in the past. I don’t need that many material representations of my memories. I have enough in my brain. I remember when I first switched to the laptop and tossed the other desktop machine a few years ago. I had been trying to simplify my shit just in case I had to flee everything. Well, I’ve come to realize that I won’t be going anywhere because I’ve put myself in a shitty position. So, I can keep this machine and whatever else is closest to my heart because the rest of my life will undoubtedly be spent right here in this little house. I have no real reasoning to mobilize my things just to plan an escape. To what would I be escaping, anyway? That’s right... Nothing. The bliss and comfort in life are both gone for good. All I can hope for are the little enjoyments, should they hold up, that is. Fuck it. I don’t care. I always have the option. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I will see what can be eliminated. My mood is on the edge of anger right now. I need to push it away. The coffee is nearly gone now. So is any genuine ambition. I am just limping along with a dying heart. I can’t even begin to describe how unhappy this period is. I really can’t. I suppose if I am going to be severely depressed and often angry at the same time, I may as well appreciate the fact that I do live in this house. An apartment would be fucked right now. The space is just enough for me to find relaxation sometimes and embrace the separate nature of this tract. Elbow room? I suppose that’s appropriate. Mental elbow room would be better, though. This house provides plenty of distractions in the form of cleaning, maintenance and such. Moreover, the motorcycle project has helped me to shove some moments of crippling desire and obsession away to better concentrate upon the technicality of the work. This would not be possible without the house. Eh... Maybe I am overstating it a bit, but whatever. I don’t fucking care. I’m reaching because I am sad and angry all the fucking time. Today marks 131 days since I’ve been to the bar. In addition, the group that created the quarterly ‘gentleman’s’ dinner last year (of which I attended the first) have an occasion this evening. I didn’t even respond to the group conversation regarding reservations and such. For all they know, I am gone. That may be the only power I have, and it is very unfriendly. What do you think? Am I being cold toward society? You’re damned right. Sometimes the best play in life is to force people to realize they have a massive lack of information. I believe I will continue in this vein, shopping and whatnot to support the house, and when my time runs out I will be right here in the house. I am unhappy and fucking depressed as all hell, but I’d be worse anywhere else. I have zero desire to socialize with anyone except my damned-few neighbors. We are a tight group, anyway. My behavior is in response to the bad things that have come in my direction for no good fucking reason, and believe me... I can become far worse than I am right now. Ah, shit... The dinner is next Saturday. Whatever. I can’t remember much anymore. I created Jaime the ‘machine’. I dreamed of others, too, out of the most powerful need I’ve ever felt. The fiction was a part of her creation, as I had been dreaming of a place and time without issues; a situation that could be fulfilling. There seemed no way in reality, so hence the story. There was danger and confusion; sex and suicide. Beauty, too. Oh, and my self-conscious nature creeped in a little, along with what I used to call issue number two, the threat of life. I wrote that shit for good reason. I wanted to see if anything could help me deal with inner turmoil as it related to others. There is no machine. Jaime is fictional. Even those images I shot in San Diego (when I felt love for a girl I never knew) were meaningless. I had them printed, by the way. I’ve been stepping outside the real world for years and searching for that elusive understanding which I can’t even describe here. I’ve been looking for someone to ‘save’ me. Last year everything went aslant due to those fucking damaging dreams, and the related feelings are many times stronger right now than they were at the outset of this fucked-up period. Everything I need is unreal because reality has ruined me. One of these days, the dreams are going to fall flat. This is a bad time, and this sentence is the 129th occurrence of such a phrase. 1104. I do not feel well right now. Shit will come to a head soon, I know it. I fucking know it. And yes, I’ve been saying that for years. Just know that eventually the situation shall become too much for me to handle. Know that much, at least. I can only do this for so long before I must force a change. This may be opposite thinking – a la Star Trek – but the cocktail sitting to my left helps. There is a combination of need (addiction) and memories of better times wrapped up in that glass of alcohol. The time has come for me to see where this day will lead. My routine is finished, thanks in part to my friends and family keeping me company on two televisions, and partially due to my need for maintaining stability in this little house. I do not wish for anyone to know just how dire my circumstances have become." 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Mors Cordis (Squished) Mature content No. 371 Published May 6th, 2023 11:11am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I don’t understand anymore. I was right there... Right fucking there, and on more than one occasion. I thought everything would be ok during those moments. Now what do I have? Moments? No, they are gone. Can I be there? Doubtful. Is anything on the horizon, maybe? I don’t see how. Off the rails. I am beginning to feel that I don’t want anyone listening, and such a thought can only stem from anger. All these years have had me in need of the correct type of understanding. I no longer believe such a thing exists. Too much time has passed and I’ve lost faith in the word ‘good’. There has been a change related to what I thought could have been a mistake the other day. I realized the possible error and was then pushed into a place requiring more understanding than I was capable at the time. Between last night and this morning I saw that the mistake was only in my head, and nothing in reality was as close as I had calculated. Well, I’ve made little mistakes before, so on the surface it is not a big deal. The underlying implication is far worse. The change is likely permanent and there is not one damned thing I can do about it. The last two days’ worth of visions tried to push me toward a situation I had thought to be real. And? I should have known in advance of all that shit that no good could come of any of it. Nothing good whatsoever. I am now sitting here under the full weight of the world being different than I had believed. I cannot be any clearer because my situation is now completely fucked. Close for a moment or two. Close. I could see some, but on the previous occasion I saw much more. Not as much as in the parking lot, though. In the parking lot I saw almost everything. But still... Close for a moment or two. Close, for sure. Right fucking there. My head painted pictures almost immediately. I wanted so much, and the desire caused me to be nearly nonsensical when speaking. I fell over my words as my eyes fell over themselves. I did not know how to react to the knowledge that is now destroying me a little at a time, and with each passing moment. I still don’t know how to react, nor can I compute a way of living through the days without going completely insane. I was close, but not for long. Nothing ever lasts. The moment in the parking lot was just that... Quick to pass. Everything goes away. When some of it returns, I know in advance that no only am I one moment closer to the ground, but there is less time to attempt to understand all this fucking shit. She was right there and I could not operate my brain very well. I needed so much – NEED so much – that the pain inside traveled from acute to chronic. I can’t do anything about anything because on too many occasions to list I gave away all my power along with any future potential. Close for a moment or two, and the power vacuum and transfer was painfully clear. The power is all gone. Close is meaningful, but it is also very bad for me. I need to be close, yet the only likely result is more pain. I’ve seen it; felt it. I do not want any more pain. Unfortunately, the effort of trying to avoid the damage is for naught. I cannot win this battle. At least I know such a fact. I was close. The change in the previous paragraph will soon be combined with whatever the fuck happened last year, and I fear I will not survive the composite. I am not made of aluminum. I am much softer now. Today is Saturday. I have some work around the house and then on the motorcycle. Everything went in reverse yesterday because he has a line on someone who can powder coat the frame, and that means all of the parts have to be removed, including the front end. Until now, that section has remained untouched. I dove into the project yesterday afternoon with some nice blackness flowing from the speakers and pulled as much as I could before quitting for the day. I believe by tomorrow I will have the frame stripped bare. Upon its return, I will build the entire bike once again, and hopefully that will be the last time. I am spent because of being too ‘nice’ a person in this life. People do not take advantage of me, though. I always volunteer and still do not know why. Whatever. Everything comes to an end. This, too, shall pass. My downhill slide has been increasing in velocity. I don’t see a way of slowing the process. This is not good. Every time there is some sort of change in my life, it is toward the negative. I can take little more of this. The cunt just took the stand in this trial on the display. Well, she is just one of many cunts. Right now I can’t find a harsher word. Eh... The show doesn’t matter. Let us recap some key words. Desperation. Desire. Derealization. Damned. Black. Darkher. Sin. Sinful. That’s plenty, methinks. The little MF can’t help me anymore and it is no longer funny. I used to be a person with a heart, yet the latter is dying. Loss. Lost. Close. I fail to understand why everything must be as it is. I just don’t fucking understand. Yesterday was a notch. I am hoping there will not be another for some time. The desperation has increased, as has the derealization. I am damned to the blackness of life. I will never find anything darkher than that which has already come to pass. My thoughts are full of sin. They are sinful. There you go. Sunday morning. The coffee is just what I needed today. Of all that I need, the coffee is the only thing available. I don’t believe the other aspects of life can be illuminated now or in the future. There were little ties; little links to which I clung for quite some time. They are gone. The reckless times are gone, too, and sometimes I feel as if I will not be able to breathe without some semblance of whatever the feeling was at the outset of those trips abroad. As far as needs go, the trips now stand as the only real escapes. Everything since – and yes, I mean in the last twelve years – has fallen short. I say twelve because my final flight to the goblet in search of whatever was this month in the year of eleven. That was also the last promise. I believe back then the trips did not feel as wondrous as they do now. My circumstances were quite different and I feared being held to the point of no options. Well, here it is... All those needs and zero options, and the entire cauldron of burning shit has resulted from my actions, inactions and decisions. And the best part? The mindset which guided those things, dating all the way back to aught-three when I ran into the arms of Juliette, was born of just two situations. They continue to grow in importance. I think about those periods every single day and wonder how my little world may have developed had neither of them come to pass. Half the need is due to one, the other half due to the second. Two and two. I don’t believe anything is out there awaiting me. I also don’t believe that the way my mind operates is based in reality. I have never felt so fucking alone. Sad. Defeated, too. I have not been playing a game, yet there is a space inside me that knows I’ve lost. No doubt. I don’t know what will happen today beyond the norm. Dry cleaning and a bit of laundry await my attention, and seeing that I will have some hours to myself, I can work on those items in and around my usual Sunday business. I will be overly sad the entire time, and during certain moments the sadness will turn to anger. The latter emotion will only last so long, however, because I will soon realize that there is nothing I can do about it. That is when the feeling of having been defeated will take over and I will return to rampant sadness. The work is but a distraction. I have no recourse whatsoever... In anything. Oh, I always have my favorite, comfortable media, something agreeable to eat or drink, and the familiarity of the house, yet none of it is enough. Some people would give much for this type of living condition, and I know that I must remain thankful for being here. Don’t worry, I am not one of those assholes who thinks the entire world is against me. There are many positives to this situation. Unfortunately, seeing them is often very difficult because I am heeled over so fucking far. I need to clean the windows again. Did I appreciate all that shit at the time? Did I think about it enough and realize I was in the middle of situations which may never return? I don’t know. I recall one huge dinner at the El Dorado (the Roxy Bistro restaurant, to be more specific) during which I had been motivated to speak to my partner regarding all those big, lavish dinners in Nevada when I was young. She then told me that since the kids were at the table, a good plan was to relay the stories and tell them that they were embarking on a wonderful journey, one in which every moment needed to be properly appreciated. We were seeing the change of an era, for lack of a better description, and the young people needed to learn. I hope I lived that evening as best I could. Right now, I just don’t know. The passage of time is beyond everything in life and often more powerful than any other force on earth. I remember the dinner (and many others), but not in much detail anymore. I will say that my position in life at the time appears pretty fucking wonderful compared to where I presently reside. My heart is being destroyed from the inside out. The same goes for memories of the goblet (and beyond) from those periods when I sought a very specific type of comfort just to stay alive. I needed a few things from the woman on my arm, and often. I cannot speak such terms here, but rest assured they have nothing to do with desire or any of that other shit. I need to recall the feeling of being where I felt most comfortable and keep those memories close to my dying heart. In the end, they may be all I have left in the world. 0849. The morning is progressing more slowly than I would have guessed. That is fine. There are rarely enough hours in each day for me to truly find anything emotionally comfortable or mentally satisfying, so if the clock seems to be crawling, all the better. One more cup of coffee is on tap right now, and then... Whatever. I don’t feel well today at all. Sadness took over last night and has not let go of me yet. Maybe once I kick off the housework routine things will improve. I need the Rolodex in my head to cease its flipping. Those pictures will not fill the holes inside me. The other day immediately made me angry, yet within moments the feeling faded and I realized that I had no place to be upset at all. Sad, perhaps, but anything further would be unfair. I do not like to see doors closing – even those that are forever behind me – and I felt one do exactly that. There have been others in recent weeks, too. I can’t sit here and describe any of them, though, so you’ll just have to fucking live with it. The fact remains that another facet of my life has disappeared and, like everything else these days, there seems nothing I can fucking do about it. Anger over the situation is not going to help right now. It will creep in sometimes, however, so if I am to go about my days with any semblance of order and patience, I’ll have to come to terms with the emotion and let it fall away. As I have realized more and more lately that my feelings do not matter in the least, I tend to keep everything to myself and become very defensive whenever a situation does not go my way. In the interest of maintaining the peaceful nature of this home, if I do not communicate with anyone, no problems can arise. All the information remains inside me. No speaking equals no concern of rebuttal, and that in turn leads to quiet. Believing that my feelings do not matter in the grand scheme, there is a constant fight inside to either work on the issue or leave everything status quo, the latter being the more damaging option, of course. At least I am already accustomed to living like a human time bomb. Anger from the other day will likely fade and eventually leave me alone. This is tough, though, and I can’t even say why. More sadness. The anger will be replaced by sadness just like everything else. There is nothing I can do about it, nor is there anyone listening. Why am I still talking here? Is something going to come of this shit in the future? No. The only change can be an increase in the amount of data on the server(s). I don’t know what else to do with myself these days. This endeavor, my housework, and whatever other activities I have around the house pretty much make up my entire life lately. If I remove any one of them, I’ll have less reason to do anything. I have zero answers, as usual. Perhaps I am typing here because I have nothing better to do with my time. I was right there. I was there. Now I am here. Where? Nowhere. I was there... The memories are fresh. The fact that recalling the most important aspects of life seems to usurp activities better attacked is a part of the reason I am so down right now. Nothing seems to have enough power to pull me from the din and allow me to be more productive. Yes, the bike took much of my time, but I honestly believe I worked at it mostly to use my tools. I love hand tools because of the past. My dad had me helping with automotive work all the way back to the early seventies, and then I held three different jobs which required tools. Now I have a massive set and enjoy using them whenever the need arises. I suppose that is a good thing. Working with my tools does have the ability to push the sadness out for a while, although when it slams me again I feel worse. This is yet another example of the fact that I am dying inside. The most important needs and desires are most decidedly absent and have nothing to do with hand tools. Everything I do is to distract myself from reality, from the media to hobbies. I don’t know what the fuck else to do these days. Maybe I’ll continue on this slow decline until the grave. Just imagine what I might say at the end. I was right there. That’s one statement. Want another? Now I am nowhere... All but dead inside. The clock indicates 1109 and the time has come for a break. I took care of the earlier Sunday business and tossed a few things out of the refrigerator. Once my cocktail is gone, I’ll work on the dry cleaning and further prepare the garbage cans for tomorrow morning. The inside of my head is a rotating slide projector of images that have disappeared from life and may never return, the most prominent of which just happens to be the French girl. Yes, her again. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do my best not to gush as I have in the past because she is frozen in time and may as well reside in a separate universe. Everything along those lines is so fucking far away that I can barely understand this existence. Once again... I just don’t fucking understand. The clock pays no mind, ever. Time rolls over me like a locomotive bent upon my destruction, and that right soon. The French girl has a detrimental effect upon my psyche, yet still she has been included within this entry. Sometimes I have to see her. That is all. I don’t see this day becoming anything out of the ordinary. Early mornings often find me angling for something different. A few short hours later, however, I realize anything different may not exist. I live in a dream world. Dreams cannot be controlled. I am at a loss yet again. There is no way out of this situation. My heart is burning, and not in a romantic context. Burning. Inflamed. Monday morning. This is the 155th Monday morning since I left my job. Interesting. My head is flip-flopping from bad to good over and over today. I don’t believe this will last very long, though, because the difficult situations with regard to the house which have recently arisen seem to be ironing themselves out, meaning the bigger picture is stabilizing. That is not to say everything is peachy, though, because there are always issues which come out of the clear, blue sky. We just have to deal with them one at a time and make clear, positive plans. That is happening right now. It’s a good thing. My cart must remain upright and without interruption. I cannot survive otherwise. Monday. I need to keep myself organized today no matter where my mood may lead. I am concerned about the way I felt Friday and how it may affect my ability to work through the coming days. The situation was tough in the beginning. That much is certain. I seemed to have calmed down between Saturday and Sunday, too. This morning? I don’t know what to think. All I see are aspects of life disappearing one at a time, and I need to know where this process may lead. The anger went away. That is better than nothing. The quiet, alone time today could not possibly be more welcomed. Sometimes I desperately need the space to live my days however I see fit. Aside from much of eleven, this is the first time in my life that I’ve held so much control over time. That fact is another of which I must remain mindful. I really hope I can keep all of the disdain to the rear and move in a positive direction today. Nothing will be served by me flipping the fuck out. My last cup of coffee is next to me. Afterward I am going to tackle the typical weekday chores and some laundry. The motorcycle frame left the garage yesterday and will not return until the end of the week, at which time the project will continue. Between now and then, I will try to organize my stuff out there. I will probably spend some time here in the office to organize, as well. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by concern for the future, cleaning and straightening often help. I am pretty fucking sick of everything feeling either stagnant or impossible, the latter ruling my thoughts these days. This is one of those times in which I need to appreciate the existing positives and try to push the bad shit away. Otherwise my tiny world will go to hell very quickly. I can’t have that. Friday slammed me pretty good, too. Add that shit to the pile. There have been too many failures to accurately tally. Trust me. Plenty. I am beginning to look in that most negative of directions again, thinking that no matter where this set of rails may lead, I always have the option. The idea may also lead me to some very satisfying moments, albeit each one of them temporary. I’ll have to think about this crap before deciding on a possible switch. Considering something that had been (off and on) important has been ruined, I may need to look at the switch more carefully and with increased consideration prior to pointing my searchlight in such a direction. I don’t know right now. The topic is heavy enough to cause me to slow everything in life just for the space to think. Those parts of life which are impossible continue to nag me, as if to taunt me with the past and then pull back just as I fall down and become overly angry. I don’t like that sort of thing. Another disastrous morning, I see. Nothing helps; nothing has the power to alleviate those desperate feelings. I still try, though. Why? The honest answer is a distinct lack of options, nothing more. No options. I used to have resources and the vision to preserve my escape routes for when things became dire (or came to a head, really). The last several years have found me being slowly reduced by my own lack of good decisions and need to be comfortable now rather than making plans and sacrificing for the future. I did this... I placed myself in the position of having zero options, and when you combine that with all the other fucking difficulties and impossible dreams, one can see my dilemma (read: conundrum). This morning is but one of hundreds, you see. One of very many. This means not a damned thing has changed in many years, and may well NEVER fucking change. Isn’t that nice? I do not have any recourse. None. Tell me otherwise. I dare you. I don’t know how many more of these days I can endure before smashing a ‘gnat with a wrecking bar’. Laugh it up. None of this is enjoyable. 1036. What a crappy morning. That is not to say there have been problems in reality, but only inside my head. Everything seems to be catching up to me after many years. The bottom line is that I never chose a direction and merely bounced from one situation to the next and sought comfort at each step, rather like the past three years. Unlike many people, I did not have a career in mind at an early age. I had no clue as to what I wanted to do. As a result, I did not do anything. The last bastion was more than a decade back when I attempted to switch careers via enrolling in an online degree program. Well, that went bad because it became too difficult and too much of an intrusion upon my precious cozy life. Prior to that period, the only glimmer was many years earlier when I made a local connection that could have paved the way to the film industry. A lateral move during that time was impossible due to a lack of experience, and the thought of beginning such a journey felt as if I would not have arrived where I needed to be within a reasonable amount of time, nor would I have been embarking upon a career with short-term rewards. I saw a long journey requiring many years of study to rise from the floor of the industry, and felt that by the time my involvement in said industry became truly rewarding I would have been too old to deal with many aspects of the same. I’ve gone over this before. The point is I am seeing the fruits of my inactions. I am a hole in the world, possibly something worse. I am not certain, but the feeling today is that the time for anything aside from what I’ve been doing for many years is over. Gone. The truck, my drawings, those ideas of beautiful or stirring places to live... None of them will advance. Of all the difficulties in life which resulted from those two shit situations and being routed by others, this one is literally all mine. Along those lines, the other people in my life have offered only encouragement and support with regard to a career. I cannot hold one fucking atom of life responsible for where I reside at this very moment. This is yet another real, nice clambake. I did this and am not happy or proud of the path I have taken in life. I never did anything, so now I have nothing. Just a matter of time. Thank you again, CC. I hope this day doesn’t go sideways. No one needs to hear my shit. I am not angry with many people right now, either. My name is at the top of the list. I am still a good person with many qualities, so imagine how I feel toward those who have helped to shape me into this ball of disdain. The routing, bullshit, and lies. The mail carrier placed the items in my garage atop a set of filthy ratchet ties. I do not like anyone entering the garage without being invited, nor do I appreciate the mail sitting on greasy items. The situation is akin to a ‘double slap’, and the next time I see the same carrier, I will be sure to express my mood. I have enough nails being driven into my head without added shit from people with whom I am unfamiliar. My garage is off fucking limits to everyone save for a precious few. On the upside, I received a tentative first-time wave from the morsel who works as an au pair for the couple two doors up the street. What I wouldn’t give to demonstrate my overwhelming, latent desire for that little beauty. Eh... Nothing good is on my horizon. Nothing. I have become a caricature of myself. Laugh it up. Tuesday. I did not work in the office yesterday because I lost direction at some point. Oh, Plenty of work was completed, but underneath it all was a feeling that not only have I gone nowhere, I already reside in the same. Moving into the office may have brought up memories, however. I should try today. There is a feeling when I work in this room which goes back several years to a time when I still had an inkling of possibility inside. I should embrace the memories and take care of some things here after the routine. This is one of those mornings in which I am thankful to have hours of peace and quiet. The time cannot be overstated. 1036. Half of my daily routine is finished. I need to wait a little while for one cat to vacate the spare bedroom before doing the rest. I don’t want to disturb him. The cats are royalty in this house. If you think that is odd, either you have never had pets or you need to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. And? You have been a part of the problem with this world all along and you should do everyone a favor and commit suicide. Animals are superior to humans. They do not fuck each other over for a Goddamned percentage. 1200 straight up. I went to the smoke shop. Very exciting. Wednesday. Coffee. Dragons. I feel a little further down with each passing day. The format of the site has gone back to the earlier configuration (as you have likely already noticed) with two columns and the larger title image. The change means all included images are now smaller, although the main content should be easier to follow thanks to shorter line lengths. I suppose I became bored with the appearance. Whatever. The master pages make sitewide alterations fairly simple. At the top of this entry, I mentioned that I do not understand. That statement has become the largest issue inside me. I do not understand. To combine the shit situations with my current condition adds up, however. They led me to this lack of reasoning and dire feeling. Each day I am a little bit lower on the ladder of life and still searching. I’m in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Very bad. Each morning I see possibilities, housework and whatever else I need to do for maintaining quality of life here at home, yet within a few hours, I lose direction and contemplate all that is gone. I won’t even get into the missing pieces which have left gaping holes inside me... Problems piled upon problems. I am still rising from bed every morning and doing the minimum, but at what point does my brain disallow anything further? When do I sit down and decide to never get up again? The little enjoyments, peace and quiet are still holding their ground, for now. When I watch my shows, I think of the film industry and the way it shined years ago. When I work on the bike or my little truck, I recall the RF and aerospace research industries and the knowledge I gained during those years. What the fuck have I done in the last three years? Nothing. I’ve gone through the motions. I don’t know how to break out of this din, nor do I see a path to understanding in the future. And the morning has been a disaster. Splendid. Marvelous. Today is just another fucking clambake. 1019 is what I see on the clock and I already finished the daily routine. The cocktail is next to me, as always. I still have dry cleaning to do at some point today. I would also like to work in the office for a little while. Whenever I feel very down, throwing things into the trash helps. What was of great importance many years ago is now less valuable. I am seeing my peace of mind as more important than some possessions. Obviously, I have some very pricey items which will remain with me for the duration, such as a few watches, my camera and computers. The truck, as well, and my tools. I’ve already tossed much into the trash this year, donated other items, and plan to do additional organization. All I need is motivation, yet no matter how dire some chores seem, I can’t always move in a productive direction. It is damned rare, actually. At the very least right now, I have a good plan for lunch. There is a positive... I’ve been working with what we have in the house rather than spending money by ordering meals. Once lunch is out of the way, I have no clue as to how the remainder of this day will progress. Nothing has the power to stop me from thinking. Good God, Charlotte’s fucking face is a wonderland of unique beauty. I could live on her chin. Shut up. Desperation and desire are perpetual, and my thoughts are nowhere near dangerous. Just... Shut up. Leave me alone. I might love that woman. A little bit, anyway. She is not the only one, either. I suppose from here on in, I shall have lunch and then do my remaining housework. Ah... The au pair just walked by again. Interesting. Anyway, as long as I can keep my head up long enough to reach the close of business hours, everything will be fine today. Too often does the afternoon find me sans ambition. I can’t have that shit right now because it may lead to more dire thinking in the coming weeks. Thursday morning, fairly early. I have some time before the morning business. The show is still running despite my becoming annoyed with it at times. I may opt to switch later today. Right now, I need the familiarity to go with my coffee. Today has to be more productive than yesterday. Some items can only be put off for so long before shit comes to a head, and the time has come for me to push further this week. The plan is to have everything out of the way prior to lunch because I need to feel better than I have for quite a while. Weeks of this, perhaps. Moreover, the motorcycle frame should be returning either today or tomorrow and I’d like to have everything around the house organized so assembly can begin. Once my coffee is gone, I’ll shower, take care of half the routine and then drive to the market for a few things. Upon returning, the day will appear brighter than it does right now. 0851. The morning business is out of the way. There was a tiny flash yesterday and I must put it out of my head if I am to proceed as outlined above. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond my life and the effort in shoving it away is nearly insurmountable most days. I am beginning to feel the same type of desperation as the summer of ninety-four when I saw pictures of a life I can never lead. The flash was similar. I believe if I can stick to my plan for this morning, the nature of being busy for a while will help my mind tremendously. I see 1107 on the clock and my day is moving along as well as I had hoped. The routine is finished, I went to the market, and the single load of dry cleaning is running. The reward? A nice, big glass of depressant here on the table. There were a dozen pairs of black yoga pants at the store and every single one of them was frightening in one way or another. A cute face was in the parking lot as I exited, nothing more. She is already gone. I am pleased to have so much out of the way already, too. Now the relaxation this evening can feel well-deserved. As for the remaining hours, I will probably work on a combination of organization and ridding myself of items that are no longer necessary. Most of that will be in the garage. My neighbor and one of his club members are next door working on the Street Glide this morning. I’ll probably pop over there from time to time and see if I can lend a hand. Many years ago I became quite educated with regard to audio wiring and such. I have a long history of building audio systems and solving issues within the same. I may have helpful information if it becomes necessary. For the time being, however, the plan is to relax and stay off my feet for a little while. Help granny make the bed. Cut it; punch it; gun it. Those were coined forty years ago and I still remember the wonder of driving up the mountain to what was very likely my favorite destination of my life. Help granny make the bed. And then I stood there in the old lobby – this was prior to the remodel and expansion of the hotel – and locked eyes with a prostitute. She was similar to the bevy of cocktail servers that roamed all four of the major resorts back then. My eyes were wide in those days, especially when something stirring was nearby. Nevada and my upbringing have effectively shaped me into much of what I am at this very moment. Help granny make the bed, indeed... I won’t even touch the combination of Nevada and the glowing years. I don’t have the fucking words. Punch it; gun it; cut it. Do it... NOW. Picture a 1979 Ford Ranchero GT rolling and winding through the snowy trees as my head anticipated the unequaled comfort of being absorbed into the very adult nature of the wondrous gaming culture. Once you see it, help granny make the bed. I am more than happy to lose my fucking mind because what will remain of it shall reside when the world was better. Friday and all is not well. Yesterday went fine. I spent some time going outside the norm, too. The bed is unmade, however, meaning someone needs to fix everything. Do it, please. For all our sakes. I am worsening by the day, the anger is still building and being suppressed – rather like the inherent compression inside a stick of trinitrotoluene, but with increasing layers – and at some point everything is going to go sideways for the last time. I can only live like this for so long. If the past is any indication of my processes, the most likely outcome will be me reaching a point in which I become unwilling to continue in this vein without at least one dire need forced into position, and such an operation is generally accepted as a self-fulfilling prophecy. One desperate act; no forgiveness of self. That will be that. I don’t know when, of course. I also do not see another possibility for the future. The fact remains that I am becoming less and less capable of holding my life together, the little enjoyments be damned. There is far too much missing for me to expect any material things to fill the voids. I am doing nothing more than watching the calendar roll by, hence my heart dying a little at a time, one day at a time. I believe too many years have been burned away for me to expect anything positive to come along and save me. My thoughts continue to decline each morning. Yesterday was a complete disaster for two reasons, so I suppose today is better (so far). But I can’t stop dreaming and thinking that the wonder of the world is gone forever. Not good. The process which turned yesterday into a disaster was due to the future appearing black, yet no matter how bad things become, I still sit here and write, as well as going through the motions every day. I have no idea of why, unless there truly is a glimmer inside (somewhere) that a bit of good can come along. I cannot know for sure, though. I can only suspect. There has to be something, and I suppose such an idea is not unusual. All of this trouble is beginning to feel unfair, to be honest. That’s a tough one, too. I have to be careful with my use of that word because I am physically pretty damned comfortable in this house and the world can hardly be responsible for whatever may be taking place inside my heart. I just don’t fucking know of the proper wording anymore. Maybe the pain inside is driving me to reach. Whatever. Nothing will fucking change, anyway, so perhaps my words don’t matter in the least. One optimum path may be to stop waiting. 0859. I have the last of the coffee next to me. Today feels a tad different than those throughout the past several months. Sadness seems to be in a battle with anger. The bottom line of the anger is generally depression, anyway, so maybe this is not so unexpected. The more I think of where I have been, the further away happiness seems to reside. The gradient between the past and present continues to widen, meaning those years now appear better than mere weeks ago. I have found myself reminiscing more often during the evenings than I had at the outset of this year. This is not good because I feel the passage of time more acutely and its effect upon me deepening. Nathalie’s shoulders are a world in and of themselves. No equal. None. Damn it. There are two distinct root causes of my current condition and I can’t detail either of them here. Another clambake. Oh, I’ve gleaned plenty, yet there is no way anyone can understand what I am saying much of the time. Housework? Yeah. Shopping? Yep... That, too. The feelings and ideas inside my head? Never. This shit has become so convoluted that sometimes when I go back a few entries even I have no clue as to what I was trying to say. Clambake. Dying heart. Nothing helps. I will be moving away from this and into my housework very soon. I will also switch from coffee to a cocktail in order to relax the drama inside my brain. I’ve lost too much to remain upright and stable, the latest of which is really hurting. I don’t know of another way to live my life these days. To be perfectly honest, I am trying to get through the hours and days in such a manner so as to avoid becoming overly angry. I know in advance that anger will not solve anything, although I can admit that sometimes I am so weak that there is no stopping such a process. Frustration, desperation, sadness... They all end up leading to anger and I have found that no matter what may be taking place on a given day, there will always be a straw. Remaining mindful of the result prior to the fashion could help me think. So, here I sit at 1034 with the usual stuff finished. Well, everything except the fat glass of whiskey sitting here on the table. The booze and the housework partially squared off my brain for a little while. I suppose that’s all I can ask anymore because when everything slams me at once, I can’t easily handle the resulting mood. Not only that, but the level of caring inside me with regard to the house begins to diminish. I am in a cycle and do not know how to escape it. Ugh... She is talking through her teeth again. All the respect in the world for Lena, however. She is fantastic. The character? I don’t believe I wished more heavily for anyone on this show to die. Anyway, the day is going to progress as it will. Rather like the universe, as some may say. They have faith that the universe will unfold as it should. For myself, the faith is not so straightforward. I see a crooked line leading to pitfalls aplenty. The day will move along because there is no stopping the passage of time. I have no clue as to how I will emerge from the railroading of the clock. The sinful realm is forcing me to see just how skewed my thinking has become. Justification is an uphill battle; rationalization a daily process. Ah, fuck... There she is... The relational analysis made flesh. What I wouldn’t give to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Whatever. I am not slated to be happy in this life. And where was I? Ah... My brain and the way it has grown to put desperation and fulfillment into perspective. This is bad. And I just learned that one of the actors portraying a key interest within this series was but nineteen years old when she first appeared. I had no idea. Such talent at that young an age. Wow. Back to the topic sentence, shall we? The sinful dreams and thinking have turned my life on its ear, to be honest. I was not expecting to be slammed by so much in a very short period of time. In the beginning, everything was pointed toward sheer physical desire, whereas the last few months – most of this year, actually – have forced me to realize that my heart became involved and is dying as a result of such depth of emotion. I should not be feeling this strongly about her or any of the others. I don’t like to use the word ‘should’, yet sometimes there is no other operator with adequate power for conveying the depth of my despair. And believe me... I am in despair every fucking moment of every fucking day. If someone had told me years ago that I would be conjuring imagery related to the damaging dreams (or worse), in no way would I have trusted in such thinking. No fucking way. But now? I am deep into the cause, and the cause is damned. I don’t know where to go from here, either. My heart is black and burned as a result of far more than I can lay out on the fucking site. Ah... Christ. I really don’t need to see Charlotte and her amazing fucking facial structure right now. Worship is unhealthy, yet what I actually, truly worship is a set of traits, not the individual examples of the same. Charlotte just happens to be on the screen at this very moment. Um, the other worship? I can’t talk about it, nor can I be clearer than the previous paragraph. I have no wish to be labeled or slighted. Think what you will. I don’t fucking care because other people do not affect my stance, nor can they have any effect upon my future. And? I have a deep-seated need to be in gentle contact with some of Charlotte for the purpose of conveying my appreciation for her as a woman. When I say things like that, the indication is that I am far out of balance. Well, I am. If you don’t like the occasional gushing about the nether regions of certain actors, go read someone else’s detritus and leave me the fuck alone. All I really want is the right type of beauty to tell me everything will be ok. And yes, I realize she probably does not exist and never will. So be it. Nothing good is on my horizon. 1111. I can feel the push of the anger from deep inside my being. Some of that is the result of my mind loosening due to alcohol, but at least I know as much. I often go back in time within my head because those situations felt more open. The future seemed not necessarily bright, but full of possibilities at the very least. There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to see, and tons of projects. I had thought there was plenty of time for everything. When I move back in time, I can see myself doing whatever the hell I was doing, and I don’t see the same cloud that resides above me right now. I did not heed anyone’s apparent wisdom supposedly gained through age. That is natural and likely still takes place today. I can recall those garage and driveway gatherings interspersed with young people dating back many years (while I’ve lived in this house). I have always been regarded as very intelligent and knowledgeable, and the resulting conversation generally led me to convey the following sentiment to those of my junior: Do this; don’t do that’ don’t end up like me. None of that ever went anywhere, though, because the light in which I bathed did not appear as negative to other people. There is a subject that has been swirling around inside my brain for months and I can’t bring it up here. Not in detail, anyway. Trust me when I say that the subject in question is something which can cause me to commit suicide within moments of considering the ramifications of my lifestyle throughout the last three years. And there is another fucking slap within the same topic. Unfortunately, I can’t go into that one, either. It is all too sensitive and I only bring this up because as a human being on earth, I know that I affect and have affected other people, some of which are beautiful souls deserving of happiness and fulfillment. I cannot say more. I brought up this difficulty because I have to remain mindful of everything just in case shit comes to a head. Context is everything. Saturday morning, 0706. Coffee, whatever. Today is the first day of a show I attended faithfully many years ago. We will not be attending, though. I haven’t been to that type of show for many years and would probably not have an easy time visiting again, although I am not opposed to the possibility. I simply feel that life has changed so much that nothing will ever be as relaxing, interesting or enjoyable as in the past. During the late nineties and early aughts, the whole world appeared vastly different than it does today. The feeling of walking into the first tent during Winter and smelling the propane heat is akin to the scent of the air conditioning inside the massive dark rides at Disneyland. Two such situations which stirred my heart unlike anything before or since. When I think about the show going on without me, the idea makes me sad because of all the changes. The other type of show comes along a few times per year and we’ve attended some in the past. Those are different memories and very different emotions. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to attend the type of event which began today (the bigger one is in January, too). I just don’t see it. Yesterday I cleared off my bench and cleaned everything so it looks much better. I also cleaned the tools. I need to ensure that my work areas out there remain free of clutter. The frame will return at some point and I’ll be ready for assembly. I may venture out there again today in order to continue gathering crap that can head into the trash. Maybe I can fit my fucking head in the can, too. Other than my typical daily routine and the organization, I don’t know what this day has in store. Though I may come across at times as if things are ok and I am working through the days just fine, inside me is the same shit – worsening by the minute, actually – and none of it has a snowball’s chance in hell of being alleviated. All I am trying to accomplish is sort of a rounding of my daily activities so as to break up the heavier information. The girl does not leave my brain. The others do once in a while, yet usually when they fade something else comes along (such as the other day in the fucking parking lot) and sends me flying off the path to which I try to adhere. The key words never stop influencing my life. They have been slicing off little pieces of me for so long that I don’t know of another way to live anymore. My garage work is but a distraction. It is necessary, but not so much that I can’t put it off or do the bare minimum instead. Nothing is so important these days. I’ll be out there later and daydreaming of everything that I can’t have or those things missing for years. I will not slack off on the housework. There were dreams during the night but I can barely remember them. Nothing bad, though. Just some weird places, perhaps. I have not dreamed like last year for some months. I suppose that is a good thing. Missing her is not good, however. The visions grip me from time to time (I cannot describe them for reasons of good form) and I always lose my way when they come along, so dreaming is often better than seeing. At least in the dreams I feel understood. Ugh... My least favorite character again, rife with smugness. Double ugh, maybe. So, dreaming once in a while is fine, and I typically can’t recall the imagery by morning. Those frames I do remember have caused more damage than most of what has actually taken place in reality. They have altered the way I see myself, and worse, the manner in which I view society. Not good. When I dream of strange places or difficult situations, awakening afterward helps me realize that I am honestly ok in this life. I am fairly comfortable. The damaging dreams have had little effect upon that feeling when I awaken from strange imagery. Seeing the light of the morning still feels good. I seem to be basking in it right now. The shit will eventually creep in and darken my day, so I will try to hold on to the comfort as long as I am able. Every day is ruined at some point. There seems to be nothing I can do to avoid one type of disaster or another. I can already feel disaster on the horizon this morning and the time is merely 0806. Not good. This is not going to be good for the rest of my day. I will have to be careful and disallow the anger from taking over. Part of the reason my heart is in such disarray is due to the manner in which I’ve been ‘squished’ in the past, not to mention the same taking place more recently; a situation rather surprising at my age, although people are still fucked in the head regardless of the passage of time. Squished. That is a term coined during the eighties. ‘Walked-upon’ might be better. Taking advantage of someone else? I don’t believe that is adequate for conveying the feelings inside me. It’s off just enough to not fit. There was a case of something similar during the glow (believe it or not), and I did my best to get the point across that I would greatly appreciate people taking me seriously. [As an aside, I will say that at present there are a few key individuals who have been made aware of the depth of such a statement.] The period was slightly difficult at times but worked itself out by the end of the glowing years. Being squished is not the same, however. Just trust me... The term may have been born of a very different part of life, but it is the only word which seems to cover the way I feel about certain people. There are plenty of tertiary descriptors that I could glean here, too. I don’t want to do that because revealing some information is very dangerous. I’ve been squished quite enough in this life, and during the late glow it made me smile. Now the same situation makes me angry because I have developed into a powerless mass bent upon everything impossible. There you go. I am not an easy person with which to deal when things become difficult, but being squished is completely unfair. Shoot me. Well, if you even know what the fuck I’ve been saying, that is. I wish I could understand the reasoning behind the rampant squishing because the lack makes me angry. 0831. One more cup of coffee, I guess. The morning has eased its pressure from my head. My lack of understanding why this period must be as it is does not help matters, although I can still work with what I have. That is a good thing. My life has been slowly falling apart for a year and I do not see anything slowing the process unless I can find something inside me with the power to push beyond this shit. I believe at some point I will run out of time and be forced to make some serious changes. I believe I am capable of improving one aspect of myself which until now has not been very pleasant to consider. The fact is that the issues press me every day and I rarely see a way to alter my path in life. I’ve been worsening inside, meaning if I can rise and improve myself on the outside, one may help to offset the other, even if only slightly. I do not wish to completely unravel before my time. No one is going to help me, either. They can all fuck off in whatever way is necessary for leaving me the hell alone. I’ll do what I need to do and must be left without interference... Or else. I can take small steps today and see how I feel after the business is done. I wish someone was there to listen. 0910. The last of the coffee is right here by my keyboard. The show has been paused due to serious thinking on my part, and that is a situation which does not come along very often. My brain becomes so fucking preoccupied with loss, desire and desperation that everything else in life is graded aside with a lot of force. The power of the desire is going to be my largest hurdle. I need a left turn to wherever, and unlike those I’ve taken in the past. Help granny make the bed, indeed. When my coffee is gone, I’ll have to look around and work on whatever seems best right now. I don’t know what that is yet. A part of me is dying and I don’t know how to stop the process. Maybe I truly do need others for such a thing. Too bad. I could have turned out better than this if a few key periods had not unfolded as they did. What a fucking waste of talent. Maybe I’ll work on the idea of empty space again. That was good last week, and since tomorrow is garbage day, I can get some things together this afternoon and maximize the process. There is too much crap in this house (as well as my garage) and I have been feeling less of a connection with my possessions than in the past. I don’t need that many material representations of my memories. I have enough in my brain. I remember when I first switched to the laptop and tossed the other desktop machine a few years ago. I had been trying to simplify my shit just in case I had to flee everything. Well, I’ve come to realize that I won’t be going anywhere because I’ve put myself in a shitty position. So, I can keep this machine and whatever else is closest to my heart because the rest of my life will undoubtedly be spent right here in this little house. I have no real reasoning to mobilize my things just to plan an escape. To what would I be escaping, anyway? That’s right... Nothing. The bliss and comfort in life are both gone for good. All I can hope for are the little enjoyments, should they hold up, that is. Fuck it. I don’t care. I always have the option. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I will see what can be eliminated. My mood is on the edge of anger right now. I need to push it away. The coffee is nearly gone now. So is any genuine ambition. I am just limping along with a dying heart. I can’t even begin to describe how unhappy this period is. I really can’t. I suppose if I am going to be severely depressed and often angry at the same time, I may as well appreciate the fact that I do live in this house. An apartment would be fucked right now. The space is just enough for me to find relaxation sometimes and embrace the separate nature of this tract. Elbow room? I suppose that’s appropriate. Mental elbow room would be better, though. This house provides plenty of distractions in the form of cleaning, maintenance and such. Moreover, the motorcycle project has helped me to shove some moments of crippling desire and obsession away to better concentrate upon the technicality of the work. This would not be possible without the house. Eh... Maybe I am overstating it a bit, but whatever. I don’t fucking care. I’m reaching because I am sad and angry all the fucking time. Today marks 131 days since I’ve been to the bar. In addition, the group that created the quarterly ‘gentleman’s’ dinner last year (of which I attended the first) have an occasion this evening. I didn’t even respond to the group conversation regarding reservations and such. For all they know, I am gone. That may be the only power I have, and it is very unfriendly. What do you think? Am I being cold toward society? You’re damned right. Sometimes the best play in life is to force people to realize they have a massive lack of information. I believe I will continue in this vein, shopping and whatnot to support the house, and when my time runs out I will be right here in the house. I am unhappy and fucking depressed as all hell, but I’d be worse anywhere else. I have zero desire to socialize with anyone except my damned-few neighbors. We are a tight group, anyway. My behavior is in response to the bad things that have come in my direction for no good fucking reason, and believe me... I can become far worse than I am right now. Ah, shit... The dinner is next Saturday. Whatever. I can’t remember much anymore. I created Jaime the ‘machine’. I dreamed of others, too, out of the most powerful need I’ve ever felt. The fiction was a part of her creation, as I had been dreaming of a place and time without issues; a situation that could be fulfilling. There seemed no way in reality, so hence the story. There was danger and confusion; sex and suicide. Beauty, too. Oh, and my self-conscious nature creeped in a little, along with what I used to call issue number two, the threat of life. I wrote that shit for good reason. I wanted to see if anything could help me deal with inner turmoil as it related to others. There is no machine. Jaime is fictional. Even those images I shot in San Diego (when I felt love for a girl I never knew) were meaningless. I had them printed, by the way. I’ve been stepping outside the real world for years and searching for that elusive understanding which I can’t even describe here. I’ve been looking for someone to ‘save’ me. Last year everything went aslant due to those fucking damaging dreams, and the related feelings are many times stronger right now than they were at the outset of this fucked-up period. Everything I need is unreal because reality has ruined me. One of these days, the dreams are going to fall flat. This is a bad time, and this sentence is the 129th occurrence of such a phrase. 1104. I do not feel well right now. Shit will come to a head soon, I know it. I fucking know it. And yes, I’ve been saying that for years. Just know that eventually the situation shall become too much for me to handle. Know that much, at least. I can only do this for so long before I must force a change. This may be opposite thinking – a la Star Trek – but the cocktail sitting to my left helps. There is a combination of need (addiction) and memories of better times wrapped up in that glass of alcohol. The time has come for me to see where this day will lead. My routine is finished, thanks in part to my friends and family keeping me company on two televisions, and partially due to my need for maintaining stability in this little house. I do not wish for anyone to know just how dire my circumstances have become."
Mors Cordis (Squished)
Mature content No. 371 Published May 6th, 2023 11:11am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"I don’t understand anymore. I was right there... Right fucking there, and on more than one occasion. I thought everything would be ok during those moments. Now what do I have? Moments? No, they are gone. Can I be there? Doubtful. Is anything on the horizon, maybe? I don’t see how. Off the rails. I am beginning to feel that I don’t want anyone listening, and such a thought can only stem from anger. All these years have had me in need of the correct type of understanding. I no longer believe such a thing exists. Too much time has passed and I’ve lost faith in the word ‘good’. There has been a change related to what I thought could have been a mistake the other day. I realized the possible error and was then pushed into a place requiring more understanding than I was capable at the time. Between last night and this morning I saw that the mistake was only in my head, and nothing in reality was as close as I had calculated. Well, I’ve made little mistakes before, so on the surface it is not a big deal. The underlying implication is far worse. The change is likely permanent and there is not one damned thing I can do about it. The last two days’ worth of visions tried to push me toward a situation I had thought to be real. And? I should have known in advance of all that shit that no good could come of any of it. Nothing good whatsoever. I am now sitting here under the full weight of the world being different than I had believed. I cannot be any clearer because my situation is now completely fucked. Close for a moment or two. Close. I could see some, but on the previous occasion I saw much more. Not as much as in the parking lot, though. In the parking lot I saw almost everything. But still... Close for a moment or two. Close, for sure. Right fucking there. My head painted pictures almost immediately. I wanted so much, and the desire caused me to be nearly nonsensical when speaking. I fell over my words as my eyes fell over themselves. I did not know how to react to the knowledge that is now destroying me a little at a time, and with each passing moment. I still don’t know how to react, nor can I compute a way of living through the days without going completely insane. I was close, but not for long. Nothing ever lasts. The moment in the parking lot was just that... Quick to pass. Everything goes away. When some of it returns, I know in advance that no only am I one moment closer to the ground, but there is less time to attempt to understand all this fucking shit. She was right there and I could not operate my brain very well. I needed so much – NEED so much – that the pain inside traveled from acute to chronic. I can’t do anything about anything because on too many occasions to list I gave away all my power along with any future potential. Close for a moment or two, and the power vacuum and transfer was painfully clear. The power is all gone. Close is meaningful, but it is also very bad for me. I need to be close, yet the only likely result is more pain. I’ve seen it; felt it. I do not want any more pain. Unfortunately, the effort of trying to avoid the damage is for naught. I cannot win this battle. At least I know such a fact. I was close. The change in the previous paragraph will soon be combined with whatever the fuck happened last year, and I fear I will not survive the composite. I am not made of aluminum. I am much softer now. Today is Saturday. I have some work around the house and then on the motorcycle. Everything went in reverse yesterday because he has a line on someone who can powder coat the frame, and that means all of the parts have to be removed, including the front end. Until now, that section has remained untouched. I dove into the project yesterday afternoon with some nice blackness flowing from the speakers and pulled as much as I could before quitting for the day. I believe by tomorrow I will have the frame stripped bare. Upon its return, I will build the entire bike once again, and hopefully that will be the last time. I am spent because of being too ‘nice’ a person in this life. People do not take advantage of me, though. I always volunteer and still do not know why. Whatever. Everything comes to an end. This, too, shall pass. My downhill slide has been increasing in velocity. I don’t see a way of slowing the process. This is not good. Every time there is some sort of change in my life, it is toward the negative. I can take little more of this. The cunt just took the stand in this trial on the display. Well, she is just one of many cunts. Right now I can’t find a harsher word. Eh... The show doesn’t matter. Let us recap some key words. Desperation. Desire. Derealization. Damned. Black. Darkher. Sin. Sinful. That’s plenty, methinks. The little MF can’t help me anymore and it is no longer funny. I used to be a person with a heart, yet the latter is dying. Loss. Lost. Close. I fail to understand why everything must be as it is. I just don’t fucking understand. Yesterday was a notch. I am hoping there will not be another for some time. The desperation has increased, as has the derealization. I am damned to the blackness of life. I will never find anything darkher than that which has already come to pass. My thoughts are full of sin. They are sinful. There you go. Sunday morning. The coffee is just what I needed today. Of all that I need, the coffee is the only thing available. I don’t believe the other aspects of life can be illuminated now or in the future. There were little ties; little links to which I clung for quite some time. They are gone. The reckless times are gone, too, and sometimes I feel as if I will not be able to breathe without some semblance of whatever the feeling was at the outset of those trips abroad. As far as needs go, the trips now stand as the only real escapes. Everything since – and yes, I mean in the last twelve years – has fallen short. I say twelve because my final flight to the goblet in search of whatever was this month in the year of eleven. That was also the last promise. I believe back then the trips did not feel as wondrous as they do now. My circumstances were quite different and I feared being held to the point of no options. Well, here it is... All those needs and zero options, and the entire cauldron of burning shit has resulted from my actions, inactions and decisions. And the best part? The mindset which guided those things, dating all the way back to aught-three when I ran into the arms of Juliette, was born of just two situations. They continue to grow in importance. I think about those periods every single day and wonder how my little world may have developed had neither of them come to pass. Half the need is due to one, the other half due to the second. Two and two. I don’t believe anything is out there awaiting me. I also don’t believe that the way my mind operates is based in reality. I have never felt so fucking alone. Sad. Defeated, too. I have not been playing a game, yet there is a space inside me that knows I’ve lost. No doubt. I don’t know what will happen today beyond the norm. Dry cleaning and a bit of laundry await my attention, and seeing that I will have some hours to myself, I can work on those items in and around my usual Sunday business. I will be overly sad the entire time, and during certain moments the sadness will turn to anger. The latter emotion will only last so long, however, because I will soon realize that there is nothing I can do about it. That is when the feeling of having been defeated will take over and I will return to rampant sadness. The work is but a distraction. I have no recourse whatsoever... In anything. Oh, I always have my favorite, comfortable media, something agreeable to eat or drink, and the familiarity of the house, yet none of it is enough. Some people would give much for this type of living condition, and I know that I must remain thankful for being here. Don’t worry, I am not one of those assholes who thinks the entire world is against me. There are many positives to this situation. Unfortunately, seeing them is often very difficult because I am heeled over so fucking far. I need to clean the windows again.
Did I appreciate all that shit at the time? Did I think about it enough and realize I was in the middle of situations which may never return? I don’t know. I recall one huge dinner at the El Dorado (the Roxy Bistro restaurant, to be more specific) during which I had been motivated to speak to my partner regarding all those big, lavish dinners in Nevada when I was young. She then told me that since the kids were at the table, a good plan was to relay the stories and tell them that they were embarking on a wonderful journey, one in which every moment needed to be properly appreciated. We were seeing the change of an era, for lack of a better description, and the young people needed to learn. I hope I lived that evening as best I could. Right now, I just don’t know. The passage of time is beyond everything in life and often more powerful than any other force on earth. I remember the dinner (and many others), but not in much detail anymore. I will say that my position in life at the time appears pretty fucking wonderful compared to where I presently reside. My heart is being destroyed from the inside out. The same goes for memories of the goblet (and beyond) from those periods when I sought a very specific type of comfort just to stay alive. I needed a few things from the woman on my arm, and often. I cannot speak such terms here, but rest assured they have nothing to do with desire or any of that other shit. I need to recall the feeling of being where I felt most comfortable and keep those memories close to my dying heart. In the end, they may be all I have left in the world. 0849. The morning is progressing more slowly than I would have guessed. That is fine. There are rarely enough hours in each day for me to truly find anything emotionally comfortable or mentally satisfying, so if the clock seems to be crawling, all the better. One more cup of coffee is on tap right now, and then... Whatever. I don’t feel well today at all. Sadness took over last night and has not let go of me yet. Maybe once I kick off the housework routine things will improve. I need the Rolodex in my head to cease its flipping. Those pictures will not fill the holes inside me. The other day immediately made me angry, yet within moments the feeling faded and I realized that I had no place to be upset at all. Sad, perhaps, but anything further would be unfair. I do not like to see doors closing – even those that are forever behind me – and I felt one do exactly that. There have been others in recent weeks, too. I can’t sit here and describe any of them, though, so you’ll just have to fucking live with it. The fact remains that another facet of my life has disappeared and, like everything else these days, there seems nothing I can fucking do about it. Anger over the situation is not going to help right now. It will creep in sometimes, however, so if I am to go about my days with any semblance of order and patience, I’ll have to come to terms with the emotion and let it fall away. As I have realized more and more lately that my feelings do not matter in the least, I tend to keep everything to myself and become very defensive whenever a situation does not go my way. In the interest of maintaining the peaceful nature of this home, if I do not communicate with anyone, no problems can arise. All the information remains inside me. No speaking equals no concern of rebuttal, and that in turn leads to quiet. Believing that my feelings do not matter in the grand scheme, there is a constant fight inside to either work on the issue or leave everything status quo, the latter being the more damaging option, of course. At least I am already accustomed to living like a human time bomb. Anger from the other day will likely fade and eventually leave me alone. This is tough, though, and I can’t even say why. More sadness. The anger will be replaced by sadness just like everything else. There is nothing I can do about it, nor is there anyone listening. Why am I still talking here? Is something going to come of this shit in the future? No. The only change can be an increase in the amount of data on the server(s). I don’t know what else to do with myself these days. This endeavor, my housework, and whatever other activities I have around the house pretty much make up my entire life lately. If I remove any one of them, I’ll have less reason to do anything. I have zero answers, as usual. Perhaps I am typing here because I have nothing better to do with my time. I was right there. I was there. Now I am here. Where? Nowhere. I was there... The memories are fresh. The fact that recalling the most important aspects of life seems to usurp activities better attacked is a part of the reason I am so down right now. Nothing seems to have enough power to pull me from the din and allow me to be more productive. Yes, the bike took much of my time, but I honestly believe I worked at it mostly to use my tools. I love hand tools because of the past. My dad had me helping with automotive work all the way back to the early seventies, and then I held three different jobs which required tools. Now I have a massive set and enjoy using them whenever the need arises. I suppose that is a good thing. Working with my tools does have the ability to push the sadness out for a while, although when it slams me again I feel worse. This is yet another example of the fact that I am dying inside. The most important needs and desires are most decidedly absent and have nothing to do with hand tools. Everything I do is to distract myself from reality, from the media to hobbies. I don’t know what the fuck else to do these days. Maybe I’ll continue on this slow decline until the grave. Just imagine what I might say at the end. I was right there. That’s one statement. Want another? Now I am nowhere... All but dead inside. The clock indicates 1109 and the time has come for a break. I took care of the earlier Sunday business and tossed a few things out of the refrigerator. Once my cocktail is gone, I’ll work on the dry cleaning and further prepare the garbage cans for tomorrow morning. The inside of my head is a rotating slide projector of images that have disappeared from life and may never return, the most prominent of which just happens to be the French girl. Yes, her again. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do my best not to gush as I have in the past because she is frozen in time and may as well reside in a separate universe. Everything along those lines is so fucking far away that I can barely understand this existence. Once again... I just don’t fucking understand. The clock pays no mind, ever. Time rolls over me like a locomotive bent upon my destruction, and that right soon. The French girl has a detrimental effect upon my psyche, yet still she has been included within this entry. Sometimes I have to see her. That is all. I don’t see this day becoming anything out of the ordinary. Early mornings often find me angling for something different. A few short hours later, however, I realize anything different may not exist. I live in a dream world. Dreams cannot be controlled. I am at a loss yet again. There is no way out of this situation. My heart is burning, and not in a romantic context. Burning. Inflamed. Monday morning. This is the 155th Monday morning since I left my job. Interesting. My head is flip-flopping from bad to good over and over today. I don’t believe this will last very long, though, because the difficult situations with regard to the house which have recently arisen seem to be ironing themselves out, meaning the bigger picture is stabilizing. That is not to say everything is peachy, though, because there are always issues which come out of the clear, blue sky. We just have to deal with them one at a time and make clear, positive plans. That is happening right now. It’s a good thing. My cart must remain upright and without interruption. I cannot survive otherwise. Monday. I need to keep myself organized today no matter where my mood may lead. I am concerned about the way I felt Friday and how it may affect my ability to work through the coming days. The situation was tough in the beginning. That much is certain. I seemed to have calmed down between Saturday and Sunday, too. This morning? I don’t know what to think. All I see are aspects of life disappearing one at a time, and I need to know where this process may lead. The anger went away. That is better than nothing. The quiet, alone time today could not possibly be more welcomed. Sometimes I desperately need the space to live my days however I see fit. Aside from much of eleven, this is the first time in my life that I’ve held so much control over time. That fact is another of which I must remain mindful. I really hope I can keep all of the disdain to the rear and move in a positive direction today. Nothing will be served by me flipping the fuck out. My last cup of coffee is next to me. Afterward I am going to tackle the typical weekday chores and some laundry. The motorcycle frame left the garage yesterday and will not return until the end of the week, at which time the project will continue. Between now and then, I will try to organize my stuff out there. I will probably spend some time here in the office to organize, as well. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by concern for the future, cleaning and straightening often help.
I am pretty fucking sick of everything feeling either stagnant or impossible, the latter ruling my thoughts these days. This is one of those times in which I need to appreciate the existing positives and try to push the bad shit away. Otherwise my tiny world will go to hell very quickly. I can’t have that. Friday slammed me pretty good, too. Add that shit to the pile. There have been too many failures to accurately tally. Trust me. Plenty. I am beginning to look in that most negative of directions again, thinking that no matter where this set of rails may lead, I always have the option. The idea may also lead me to some very satisfying moments, albeit each one of them temporary. I’ll have to think about this crap before deciding on a possible switch. Considering something that had been (off and on) important has been ruined, I may need to look at the switch more carefully and with increased consideration prior to pointing my searchlight in such a direction. I don’t know right now. The topic is heavy enough to cause me to slow everything in life just for the space to think. Those parts of life which are impossible continue to nag me, as if to taunt me with the past and then pull back just as I fall down and become overly angry. I don’t like that sort of thing. Another disastrous morning, I see. Nothing helps; nothing has the power to alleviate those desperate feelings. I still try, though. Why? The honest answer is a distinct lack of options, nothing more. No options. I used to have resources and the vision to preserve my escape routes for when things became dire (or came to a head, really). The last several years have found me being slowly reduced by my own lack of good decisions and need to be comfortable now rather than making plans and sacrificing for the future. I did this... I placed myself in the position of having zero options, and when you combine that with all the other fucking difficulties and impossible dreams, one can see my dilemma (read: conundrum). This morning is but one of hundreds, you see. One of very many. This means not a damned thing has changed in many years, and may well NEVER fucking change. Isn’t that nice? I do not have any recourse. None. Tell me otherwise. I dare you. I don’t know how many more of these days I can endure before smashing a ‘gnat with a wrecking bar’. Laugh it up. None of this is enjoyable. 1036. What a crappy morning. That is not to say there have been problems in reality, but only inside my head. Everything seems to be catching up to me after many years. The bottom line is that I never chose a direction and merely bounced from one situation to the next and sought comfort at each step, rather like the past three years. Unlike many people, I did not have a career in mind at an early age. I had no clue as to what I wanted to do. As a result, I did not do anything. The last bastion was more than a decade back when I attempted to switch careers via enrolling in an online degree program. Well, that went bad because it became too difficult and too much of an intrusion upon my precious cozy life. Prior to that period, the only glimmer was many years earlier when I made a local connection that could have paved the way to the film industry. A lateral move during that time was impossible due to a lack of experience, and the thought of beginning such a journey felt as if I would not have arrived where I needed to be within a reasonable amount of time, nor would I have been embarking upon a career with short-term rewards. I saw a long journey requiring many years of study to rise from the floor of the industry, and felt that by the time my involvement in said industry became truly rewarding I would have been too old to deal with many aspects of the same. I’ve gone over this before. The point is I am seeing the fruits of my inactions. I am a hole in the world, possibly something worse. I am not certain, but the feeling today is that the time for anything aside from what I’ve been doing for many years is over. Gone. The truck, my drawings, those ideas of beautiful or stirring places to live... None of them will advance. Of all the difficulties in life which resulted from those two shit situations and being routed by others, this one is literally all mine. Along those lines, the other people in my life have offered only encouragement and support with regard to a career. I cannot hold one fucking atom of life responsible for where I reside at this very moment. This is yet another real, nice clambake. I did this and am not happy or proud of the path I have taken in life. I never did anything, so now I have nothing. Just a matter of time. Thank you again, CC. I hope this day doesn’t go sideways. No one needs to hear my shit. I am not angry with many people right now, either. My name is at the top of the list. I am still a good person with many qualities, so imagine how I feel toward those who have helped to shape me into this ball of disdain. The routing, bullshit, and lies. The mail carrier placed the items in my garage atop a set of filthy ratchet ties. I do not like anyone entering the garage without being invited, nor do I appreciate the mail sitting on greasy items. The situation is akin to a ‘double slap’, and the next time I see the same carrier, I will be sure to express my mood. I have enough nails being driven into my head without added shit from people with whom I am unfamiliar. My garage is off fucking limits to everyone save for a precious few. On the upside, I received a tentative first-time wave from the morsel who works as an au pair for the couple two doors up the street. What I wouldn’t give to demonstrate my overwhelming, latent desire for that little beauty. Eh... Nothing good is on my horizon. Nothing. I have become a caricature of myself. Laugh it up. Tuesday. I did not work in the office yesterday because I lost direction at some point. Oh, Plenty of work was completed, but underneath it all was a feeling that not only have I gone nowhere, I already reside in the same. Moving into the office may have brought up memories, however. I should try today. There is a feeling when I work in this room which goes back several years to a time when I still had an inkling of possibility inside. I should embrace the memories and take care of some things here after the routine. This is one of those mornings in which I am thankful to have hours of peace and quiet. The time cannot be overstated. 1036. Half of my daily routine is finished. I need to wait a little while for one cat to vacate the spare bedroom before doing the rest. I don’t want to disturb him. The cats are royalty in this house. If you think that is odd, either you have never had pets or you need to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. And? You have been a part of the problem with this world all along and you should do everyone a favor and commit suicide. Animals are superior to humans. They do not fuck each other over for a Goddamned percentage. 1200 straight up. I went to the smoke shop. Very exciting. Wednesday. Coffee. Dragons. I feel a little further down with each passing day. The format of the site has gone back to the earlier configuration (as you have likely already noticed) with two columns and the larger title image. The change means all included images are now smaller, although the main content should be easier to follow thanks to shorter line lengths. I suppose I became bored with the appearance. Whatever. The master pages make sitewide alterations fairly simple. At the top of this entry, I mentioned that I do not understand. That statement has become the largest issue inside me. I do not understand. To combine the shit situations with my current condition adds up, however. They led me to this lack of reasoning and dire feeling. Each day I am a little bit lower on the ladder of life and still searching. I’m in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Very bad. Each morning I see possibilities, housework and whatever else I need to do for maintaining quality of life here at home, yet within a few hours, I lose direction and contemplate all that is gone. I won’t even get into the missing pieces which have left gaping holes inside me... Problems piled upon problems. I am still rising from bed every morning and doing the minimum, but at what point does my brain disallow anything further? When do I sit down and decide to never get up again? The little enjoyments, peace and quiet are still holding their ground, for now. When I watch my shows, I think of the film industry and the way it shined years ago. When I work on the bike or my little truck, I recall the RF and aerospace research industries and the knowledge I gained during those years. What the fuck have I done in the last three years? Nothing. I’ve gone through the motions. I don’t know how to break out of this din, nor do I see a path to understanding in the future. And the morning has been a disaster. Splendid. Marvelous. Today is just another fucking clambake. 1019 is what I see on the clock and I already finished the daily routine. The cocktail is next to me, as always. I still have dry cleaning to do at some point today. I would also like to work in the office for a little while. Whenever I feel very down, throwing things into the trash helps. What was of great importance many years ago is now less valuable. I am seeing my peace of mind as more important than some possessions. Obviously, I have some very pricey items which will remain with me for the duration, such as a few watches, my camera and computers. The truck, as well, and my tools. I’ve already tossed much into the trash this year, donated other items, and plan to do additional organization. All I need is motivation, yet no matter how dire some chores seem, I can’t always move in a productive direction. It is damned rare, actually. At the very least right now, I have a good plan for lunch. There is a positive... I’ve been working with what we have in the house rather than spending money by ordering meals. Once lunch is out of the way, I have no clue as to how the remainder of this day will progress. Nothing has the power to stop me from thinking.
Good God, Charlotte’s fucking face is a wonderland of unique beauty. I could live on her chin. Shut up. Desperation and desire are perpetual, and my thoughts are nowhere near dangerous. Just... Shut up. Leave me alone. I might love that woman. A little bit, anyway. She is not the only one, either. I suppose from here on in, I shall have lunch and then do my remaining housework. Ah... The au pair just walked by again. Interesting. Anyway, as long as I can keep my head up long enough to reach the close of business hours, everything will be fine today. Too often does the afternoon find me sans ambition. I can’t have that shit right now because it may lead to more dire thinking in the coming weeks. Thursday morning, fairly early. I have some time before the morning business. The show is still running despite my becoming annoyed with it at times. I may opt to switch later today. Right now, I need the familiarity to go with my coffee. Today has to be more productive than yesterday. Some items can only be put off for so long before shit comes to a head, and the time has come for me to push further this week. The plan is to have everything out of the way prior to lunch because I need to feel better than I have for quite a while. Weeks of this, perhaps. Moreover, the motorcycle frame should be returning either today or tomorrow and I’d like to have everything around the house organized so assembly can begin. Once my coffee is gone, I’ll shower, take care of half the routine and then drive to the market for a few things. Upon returning, the day will appear brighter than it does right now. 0851. The morning business is out of the way. There was a tiny flash yesterday and I must put it out of my head if I am to proceed as outlined above. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond my life and the effort in shoving it away is nearly insurmountable most days. I am beginning to feel the same type of desperation as the summer of ninety-four when I saw pictures of a life I can never lead. The flash was similar. I believe if I can stick to my plan for this morning, the nature of being busy for a while will help my mind tremendously. I see 1107 on the clock and my day is moving along as well as I had hoped. The routine is finished, I went to the market, and the single load of dry cleaning is running. The reward? A nice, big glass of depressant here on the table. There were a dozen pairs of black yoga pants at the store and every single one of them was frightening in one way or another. A cute face was in the parking lot as I exited, nothing more. She is already gone. I am pleased to have so much out of the way already, too. Now the relaxation this evening can feel well-deserved. As for the remaining hours, I will probably work on a combination of organization and ridding myself of items that are no longer necessary. Most of that will be in the garage. My neighbor and one of his club members are next door working on the Street Glide this morning. I’ll probably pop over there from time to time and see if I can lend a hand. Many years ago I became quite educated with regard to audio wiring and such. I have a long history of building audio systems and solving issues within the same. I may have helpful information if it becomes necessary. For the time being, however, the plan is to relax and stay off my feet for a little while. Help granny make the bed. Cut it; punch it; gun it. Those were coined forty years ago and I still remember the wonder of driving up the mountain to what was very likely my favorite destination of my life. Help granny make the bed. And then I stood there in the old lobby – this was prior to the remodel and expansion of the hotel – and locked eyes with a prostitute. She was similar to the bevy of cocktail servers that roamed all four of the major resorts back then. My eyes were wide in those days, especially when something stirring was nearby. Nevada and my upbringing have effectively shaped me into much of what I am at this very moment. Help granny make the bed, indeed... I won’t even touch the combination of Nevada and the glowing years. I don’t have the fucking words. Punch it; gun it; cut it. Do it... NOW. Picture a 1979 Ford Ranchero GT rolling and winding through the snowy trees as my head anticipated the unequaled comfort of being absorbed into the very adult nature of the wondrous gaming culture. Once you see it, help granny make the bed. I am more than happy to lose my fucking mind because what will remain of it shall reside when the world was better. Friday and all is not well. Yesterday went fine. I spent some time going outside the norm, too. The bed is unmade, however, meaning someone needs to fix everything. Do it, please. For all our sakes. I am worsening by the day, the anger is still building and being suppressed – rather like the inherent compression inside a stick of trinitrotoluene, but with increasing layers – and at some point everything is going to go sideways for the last time. I can only live like this for so long. If the past is any indication of my processes, the most likely outcome will be me reaching a point in which I become unwilling to continue in this vein without at least one dire need forced into position, and such an operation is generally accepted as a self-fulfilling prophecy. One desperate act; no forgiveness of self. That will be that. I don’t know when, of course. I also do not see another possibility for the future. The fact remains that I am becoming less and less capable of holding my life together, the little enjoyments be damned. There is far too much missing for me to expect any material things to fill the voids. I am doing nothing more than watching the calendar roll by, hence my heart dying a little at a time, one day at a time. I believe too many years have been burned away for me to expect anything positive to come along and save me. My thoughts continue to decline each morning. Yesterday was a complete disaster for two reasons, so I suppose today is better (so far). But I can’t stop dreaming and thinking that the wonder of the world is gone forever. Not good. The process which turned yesterday into a disaster was due to the future appearing black, yet no matter how bad things become, I still sit here and write, as well as going through the motions every day. I have no idea of why, unless there truly is a glimmer inside (somewhere) that a bit of good can come along. I cannot know for sure, though. I can only suspect. There has to be something, and I suppose such an idea is not unusual. All of this trouble is beginning to feel unfair, to be honest. That’s a tough one, too. I have to be careful with my use of that word because I am physically pretty damned comfortable in this house and the world can hardly be responsible for whatever may be taking place inside my heart. I just don’t fucking know of the proper wording anymore. Maybe the pain inside is driving me to reach. Whatever. Nothing will fucking change, anyway, so perhaps my words don’t matter in the least. One optimum path may be to stop waiting. 0859. I have the last of the coffee next to me. Today feels a tad different than those throughout the past several months. Sadness seems to be in a battle with anger. The bottom line of the anger is generally depression, anyway, so maybe this is not so unexpected. The more I think of where I have been, the further away happiness seems to reside. The gradient between the past and present continues to widen, meaning those years now appear better than mere weeks ago. I have found myself reminiscing more often during the evenings than I had at the outset of this year. This is not good because I feel the passage of time more acutely and its effect upon me deepening. Nathalie’s shoulders are a world in and of themselves. No equal. None. Damn it. There are two distinct root causes of my current condition and I can’t detail either of them here. Another clambake. Oh, I’ve gleaned plenty, yet there is no way anyone can understand what I am saying much of the time. Housework? Yeah. Shopping? Yep... That, too. The feelings and ideas inside my head? Never. This shit has become so convoluted that sometimes when I go back a few entries even I have no clue as to what I was trying to say. Clambake. Dying heart. Nothing helps. I will be moving away from this and into my housework very soon. I will also switch from coffee to a cocktail in order to relax the drama inside my brain. I’ve lost too much to remain upright and stable, the latest of which is really hurting. I don’t know of another way to live my life these days. To be perfectly honest, I am trying to get through the hours and days in such a manner so as to avoid becoming overly angry. I know in advance that anger will not solve anything, although I can admit that sometimes I am so weak that there is no stopping such a process. Frustration, desperation, sadness... They all end up leading to anger and I have found that no matter what may be taking place on a given day, there will always be a straw. Remaining mindful of the result prior to the fashion could help me think.
So, here I sit at 1034 with the usual stuff finished. Well, everything except the fat glass of whiskey sitting here on the table. The booze and the housework partially squared off my brain for a little while. I suppose that’s all I can ask anymore because when everything slams me at once, I can’t easily handle the resulting mood. Not only that, but the level of caring inside me with regard to the house begins to diminish. I am in a cycle and do not know how to escape it. Ugh... She is talking through her teeth again. All the respect in the world for Lena, however. She is fantastic. The character? I don’t believe I wished more heavily for anyone on this show to die. Anyway, the day is going to progress as it will. Rather like the universe, as some may say. They have faith that the universe will unfold as it should. For myself, the faith is not so straightforward. I see a crooked line leading to pitfalls aplenty. The day will move along because there is no stopping the passage of time. I have no clue as to how I will emerge from the railroading of the clock. The sinful realm is forcing me to see just how skewed my thinking has become. Justification is an uphill battle; rationalization a daily process. Ah, fuck... There she is... The relational analysis made flesh. What I wouldn’t give to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Whatever. I am not slated to be happy in this life. And where was I? Ah... My brain and the way it has grown to put desperation and fulfillment into perspective. This is bad. And I just learned that one of the actors portraying a key interest within this series was but nineteen years old when she first appeared. I had no idea. Such talent at that young an age. Wow. Back to the topic sentence, shall we? The sinful dreams and thinking have turned my life on its ear, to be honest. I was not expecting to be slammed by so much in a very short period of time. In the beginning, everything was pointed toward sheer physical desire, whereas the last few months – most of this year, actually – have forced me to realize that my heart became involved and is dying as a result of such depth of emotion. I should not be feeling this strongly about her or any of the others. I don’t like to use the word ‘should’, yet sometimes there is no other operator with adequate power for conveying the depth of my despair. And believe me... I am in despair every fucking moment of every fucking day. If someone had told me years ago that I would be conjuring imagery related to the damaging dreams (or worse), in no way would I have trusted in such thinking. No fucking way. But now? I am deep into the cause, and the cause is damned. I don’t know where to go from here, either. My heart is black and burned as a result of far more than I can lay out on the fucking site. Ah... Christ. I really don’t need to see Charlotte and her amazing fucking facial structure right now. Worship is unhealthy, yet what I actually, truly worship is a set of traits, not the individual examples of the same. Charlotte just happens to be on the screen at this very moment. Um, the other worship? I can’t talk about it, nor can I be clearer than the previous paragraph. I have no wish to be labeled or slighted. Think what you will. I don’t fucking care because other people do not affect my stance, nor can they have any effect upon my future. And? I have a deep-seated need to be in gentle contact with some of Charlotte for the purpose of conveying my appreciation for her as a woman. When I say things like that, the indication is that I am far out of balance. Well, I am. If you don’t like the occasional gushing about the nether regions of certain actors, go read someone else’s detritus and leave me the fuck alone. All I really want is the right type of beauty to tell me everything will be ok. And yes, I realize she probably does not exist and never will. So be it. Nothing good is on my horizon. 1111. I can feel the push of the anger from deep inside my being. Some of that is the result of my mind loosening due to alcohol, but at least I know as much. I often go back in time within my head because those situations felt more open. The future seemed not necessarily bright, but full of possibilities at the very least. There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to see, and tons of projects. I had thought there was plenty of time for everything. When I move back in time, I can see myself doing whatever the hell I was doing, and I don’t see the same cloud that resides above me right now. I did not heed anyone’s apparent wisdom supposedly gained through age. That is natural and likely still takes place today. I can recall those garage and driveway gatherings interspersed with young people dating back many years (while I’ve lived in this house). I have always been regarded as very intelligent and knowledgeable, and the resulting conversation generally led me to convey the following sentiment to those of my junior: Do this; don’t do that’ don’t end up like me. None of that ever went anywhere, though, because the light in which I bathed did not appear as negative to other people. There is a subject that has been swirling around inside my brain for months and I can’t bring it up here. Not in detail, anyway. Trust me when I say that the subject in question is something which can cause me to commit suicide within moments of considering the ramifications of my lifestyle throughout the last three years. And there is another fucking slap within the same topic. Unfortunately, I can’t go into that one, either. It is all too sensitive and I only bring this up because as a human being on earth, I know that I affect and have affected other people, some of which are beautiful souls deserving of happiness and fulfillment. I cannot say more. I brought up this difficulty because I have to remain mindful of everything just in case shit comes to a head. Context is everything. Saturday morning, 0706. Coffee, whatever. Today is the first day of a show I attended faithfully many years ago. We will not be attending, though. I haven’t been to that type of show for many years and would probably not have an easy time visiting again, although I am not opposed to the possibility. I simply feel that life has changed so much that nothing will ever be as relaxing, interesting or enjoyable as in the past. During the late nineties and early aughts, the whole world appeared vastly different than it does today. The feeling of walking into the first tent during Winter and smelling the propane heat is akin to the scent of the air conditioning inside the massive dark rides at Disneyland. Two such situations which stirred my heart unlike anything before or since. When I think about the show going on without me, the idea makes me sad because of all the changes. The other type of show comes along a few times per year and we’ve attended some in the past. Those are different memories and very different emotions. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to attend the type of event which began today (the bigger one is in January, too). I just don’t see it. Yesterday I cleared off my bench and cleaned everything so it looks much better. I also cleaned the tools. I need to ensure that my work areas out there remain free of clutter. The frame will return at some point and I’ll be ready for assembly. I may venture out there again today in order to continue gathering crap that can head into the trash. Maybe I can fit my fucking head in the can, too. Other than my typical daily routine and the organization, I don’t know what this day has in store. Though I may come across at times as if things are ok and I am working through the days just fine, inside me is the same shit – worsening by the minute, actually – and none of it has a snowball’s chance in hell of being alleviated. All I am trying to accomplish is sort of a rounding of my daily activities so as to break up the heavier information. The girl does not leave my brain. The others do once in a while, yet usually when they fade something else comes along (such as the other day in the fucking parking lot) and sends me flying off the path to which I try to adhere. The key words never stop influencing my life. They have been slicing off little pieces of me for so long that I don’t know of another way to live anymore. My garage work is but a distraction. It is necessary, but not so much that I can’t put it off or do the bare minimum instead. Nothing is so important these days. I’ll be out there later and daydreaming of everything that I can’t have or those things missing for years. I will not slack off on the housework. There were dreams during the night but I can barely remember them. Nothing bad, though. Just some weird places, perhaps. I have not dreamed like last year for some months. I suppose that is a good thing. Missing her is not good, however. The visions grip me from time to time (I cannot describe them for reasons of good form) and I always lose my way when they come along, so dreaming is often better than seeing. At least in the dreams I feel understood. Ugh... My least favorite character again, rife with smugness. Double ugh, maybe. So, dreaming once in a while is fine, and I typically can’t recall the imagery by morning. Those frames I do remember have caused more damage than most of what has actually taken place in reality. They have altered the way I see myself, and worse, the manner in which I view society. Not good. When I dream of strange places or difficult situations, awakening afterward helps me realize that I am honestly ok in this life. I am fairly comfortable. The damaging dreams have had little effect upon that feeling when I awaken from strange imagery. Seeing the light of the morning still feels good. I seem to be basking in it right now. The shit will eventually creep in and darken my day, so I will try to hold on to the comfort as long as I am able. Every day is ruined at some point. There seems to be nothing I can do to avoid one type of disaster or another.
I can already feel disaster on the horizon this morning and the time is merely 0806. Not good. This is not going to be good for the rest of my day. I will have to be careful and disallow the anger from taking over. Part of the reason my heart is in such disarray is due to the manner in which I’ve been ‘squished’ in the past, not to mention the same taking place more recently; a situation rather surprising at my age, although people are still fucked in the head regardless of the passage of time. Squished. That is a term coined during the eighties. ‘Walked-upon’ might be better. Taking advantage of someone else? I don’t believe that is adequate for conveying the feelings inside me. It’s off just enough to not fit. There was a case of something similar during the glow (believe it or not), and I did my best to get the point across that I would greatly appreciate people taking me seriously. [As an aside, I will say that at present there are a few key individuals who have been made aware of the depth of such a statement.] The period was slightly difficult at times but worked itself out by the end of the glowing years. Being squished is not the same, however. Just trust me... The term may have been born of a very different part of life, but it is the only word which seems to cover the way I feel about certain people. There are plenty of tertiary descriptors that I could glean here, too. I don’t want to do that because revealing some information is very dangerous. I’ve been squished quite enough in this life, and during the late glow it made me smile. Now the same situation makes me angry because I have developed into a powerless mass bent upon everything impossible. There you go. I am not an easy person with which to deal when things become difficult, but being squished is completely unfair. Shoot me. Well, if you even know what the fuck I’ve been saying, that is. I wish I could understand the reasoning behind the rampant squishing because the lack makes me angry. 0831. One more cup of coffee, I guess. The morning has eased its pressure from my head. My lack of understanding why this period must be as it is does not help matters, although I can still work with what I have. That is a good thing. My life has been slowly falling apart for a year and I do not see anything slowing the process unless I can find something inside me with the power to push beyond this shit. I believe at some point I will run out of time and be forced to make some serious changes. I believe I am capable of improving one aspect of myself which until now has not been very pleasant to consider. The fact is that the issues press me every day and I rarely see a way to alter my path in life. I’ve been worsening inside, meaning if I can rise and improve myself on the outside, one may help to offset the other, even if only slightly. I do not wish to completely unravel before my time. No one is going to help me, either. They can all fuck off in whatever way is necessary for leaving me the hell alone. I’ll do what I need to do and must be left without interference... Or else. I can take small steps today and see how I feel after the business is done. I wish someone was there to listen. 0910. The last of the coffee is right here by my keyboard. The show has been paused due to serious thinking on my part, and that is a situation which does not come along very often. My brain becomes so fucking preoccupied with loss, desire and desperation that everything else in life is graded aside with a lot of force. The power of the desire is going to be my largest hurdle. I need a left turn to wherever, and unlike those I’ve taken in the past. Help granny make the bed, indeed. When my coffee is gone, I’ll have to look around and work on whatever seems best right now. I don’t know what that is yet. A part of me is dying and I don’t know how to stop the process. Maybe I truly do need others for such a thing. Too bad. I could have turned out better than this if a few key periods had not unfolded as they did. What a fucking waste of talent. Maybe I’ll work on the idea of empty space again. That was good last week, and since tomorrow is garbage day, I can get some things together this afternoon and maximize the process. There is too much crap in this house (as well as my garage) and I have been feeling less of a connection with my possessions than in the past. I don’t need that many material representations of my memories. I have enough in my brain. I remember when I first switched to the laptop and tossed the other desktop machine a few years ago. I had been trying to simplify my shit just in case I had to flee everything. Well, I’ve come to realize that I won’t be going anywhere because I’ve put myself in a shitty position. So, I can keep this machine and whatever else is closest to my heart because the rest of my life will undoubtedly be spent right here in this little house. I have no real reasoning to mobilize my things just to plan an escape. To what would I be escaping, anyway? That’s right... Nothing. The bliss and comfort in life are both gone for good. All I can hope for are the little enjoyments, should they hold up, that is. Fuck it. I don’t care. I always have the option. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I will see what can be eliminated. My mood is on the edge of anger right now. I need to push it away. The coffee is nearly gone now. So is any genuine ambition. I am just limping along with a dying heart. I can’t even begin to describe how unhappy this period is. I really can’t. I suppose if I am going to be severely depressed and often angry at the same time, I may as well appreciate the fact that I do live in this house. An apartment would be fucked right now. The space is just enough for me to find relaxation sometimes and embrace the separate nature of this tract. Elbow room? I suppose that’s appropriate. Mental elbow room would be better, though. This house provides plenty of distractions in the form of cleaning, maintenance and such. Moreover, the motorcycle project has helped me to shove some moments of crippling desire and obsession away to better concentrate upon the technicality of the work. This would not be possible without the house. Eh... Maybe I am overstating it a bit, but whatever. I don’t fucking care. I’m reaching because I am sad and angry all the fucking time. Today marks 131 days since I’ve been to the bar. In addition, the group that created the quarterly ‘gentleman’s’ dinner last year (of which I attended the first) have an occasion this evening. I didn’t even respond to the group conversation regarding reservations and such. For all they know, I am gone. That may be the only power I have, and it is very unfriendly. What do you think? Am I being cold toward society? You’re damned right. Sometimes the best play in life is to force people to realize they have a massive lack of information. I believe I will continue in this vein, shopping and whatnot to support the house, and when my time runs out I will be right here in the house. I am unhappy and fucking depressed as all hell, but I’d be worse anywhere else. I have zero desire to socialize with anyone except my damned-few neighbors. We are a tight group, anyway. My behavior is in response to the bad things that have come in my direction for no good fucking reason, and believe me... I can become far worse than I am right now. Ah, shit... The dinner is next Saturday. Whatever. I can’t remember much anymore. I created Jaime the ‘machine’. I dreamed of others, too, out of the most powerful need I’ve ever felt. The fiction was a part of her creation, as I had been dreaming of a place and time without issues; a situation that could be fulfilling. There seemed no way in reality, so hence the story. There was danger and confusion; sex and suicide. Beauty, too. Oh, and my self-conscious nature creeped in a little, along with what I used to call issue number two, the threat of life. I wrote that shit for good reason. I wanted to see if anything could help me deal with inner turmoil as it related to others. There is no machine. Jaime is fictional. Even those images I shot in San Diego (when I felt love for a girl I never knew) were meaningless. I had them printed, by the way. I’ve been stepping outside the real world for years and searching for that elusive understanding which I can’t even describe here. I’ve been looking for someone to ‘save’ me. Last year everything went aslant due to those fucking damaging dreams, and the related feelings are many times stronger right now than they were at the outset of this fucked-up period. Everything I need is unreal because reality has ruined me. One of these days, the dreams are going to fall flat. This is a bad time, and this sentence is the 129th occurrence of such a phrase. 1104. I do not feel well right now. Shit will come to a head soon, I know it. I fucking know it. And yes, I’ve been saying that for years. Just know that eventually the situation shall become too much for me to handle. Know that much, at least. I can only do this for so long before I must force a change. This may be opposite thinking – a la Star Trek – but the cocktail sitting to my left helps. There is a combination of need (addiction) and memories of better times wrapped up in that glass of alcohol. The time has come for me to see where this day will lead. My routine is finished, thanks in part to my friends and family keeping me company on two televisions, and partially due to my need for maintaining stability in this little house. I do not wish for anyone to know just how dire my circumstances have become."
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