February 8th,2023 1:59pm pst

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The Anger of Desperation

 read ( words)

"The more I see them, the more I imagine the other one. And then I picture those I saw in zero-three. And all of them come together and drive me out of my fucking mind. Glimpses follow other glimpses and I lose it for a while. Nothing can change, however. Not a damned thing.

1335 on the clock now, same day. I have the dry cleaning finished and laundry going. I spent a little time in the garage straightening and ensuring I have all of the recyclables in order. The blue won't go out this week, but I like to have everything in order by close of business on Sundays regardless. I decided to get off my feet for a while, so here I am yet again with the show on the right and my thoughts flowing to the screen in the center. I still have some work in the kitchen, so I won’t be sitting here for very long. In and around whatever else I decide to do, I can tend to the laundry. The Romans are heading to Greece. I should bring my binoculars in here just in case something wonderful walks by. Think about that for a minute.

And then think more.

Holy crap, Kerry’s character is rising toward the Jamie level. Not good. Her eyes are a universe all their own. I need to hold her, and, more importantly, I need her to hold me. Damn.

1456. The second load of laundry is almost dry and I have all of the garbage out. I also pulled some stuff from the refrigerator prior to it turning into various science experiments. Very good. This is around the time when I’d try to have everything finished back when I was working full-time. My Sundays were precious in a different way than they are at present. Tonight will be zero weight upon my shoulders and tomorrow will be very peaceful here at home. I’ll have the usual morning business with the news in the background, and then move in here for some well-needed exposition. The weather is cooling very quickly right now. Every once in a while there is a decent shower from above combined with a bit of wind, and then the sun appears. I can see the sun peeking out there as I type these words. Hopefully the cold doesn’t tighten up too much this evening. And Pompey Magnus was just defeated by Caesar. Fascinating, this show.

I think the dryer finished its cycle.

0809 on Monday morning. I get goosebumps every time I see the name ‘John Milius’ on the screen. Don’t ask. Some aspects of media are beyond description. All the respect. He was co-creator of this series and has written several films which permanently reside within my heart.

Oh, my. The daydreaming last night and this morning has been very clear and intriguing. The past holds a bevy of beauty all stretched and stunning. Nothing now, of course, but my head has a file cabinet full of unique situations from years ago. All of my effort will be required in order to avoid disaster today. My housework will come and go, I’ll push myself toward other projects as necessary for keeping my head on straight, and hopefully end up coming out the other side of business hours in decent shape. This will not be easy by any means. I’ve accomplished such a feat many times in the past, though. All I have to do is keep my mind on the business and maintain pace throughout the day. The unreal (and unrealistic, to be sure) images inside my head are vying for space and control right now. I shall attempt to be vigilant.

1053 is what I see on the clock and the routine is finished. My brain has attempted to derail thoughts on and off all fucking morning, yet I’ve pushed back enough to arrive at the requisite cocktail, and that fact shall squash everything for a while. Well, until close of business, anyway. That is plenty. I need to keep my head out of the din (her pants) or this train will roll straight to disaster. I would rather not attempt to count the occasions that have found me completely beyond reason and out of control. I have the third show on my right-hand display for a change. The other show was beginning to annoy me. And Megan is in this episode, God bless her beautiful eyes and sweet smile. Maybe she will pass by my office window and knock on the door. Maybe not. I need her to hold me, just like so many others that reside in my heart. She is so beautiful. Damn it.

1222 and here we fucking go. The emptiness inside me has begun to curtail my efforts in finding a direction today, and the desire is creating anger. I just stood in the center of my office with the show in the background and devoid of any idea of what to do for the rest of the day. I hate this shit. Due to becoming rankled for the billionth time in the last few years, I will probably put away the dishes I washed and move to the garage for a while. I am sick and fucking tired of knowing and seeing. I don’t want to know anything, anymore. There has been far too much. I can’t handle it. Memories and imagination are twin thieves robbing me of the ability to move forward in any way. I am stagnant.

1333. I went back to the Romans so I can save the third show for this afternoon while I make preparations for dinner. Today is turning into a two-cocktail type of situation. I am going to pour a second right fucking now. Nothing can alleviate the desperation, so I have to do whatever brings solace. A shower warmed me up a bit after attempting to work in the garage with cold hands. That went no further than two fucking songs on the audio system. Splendid. At least the house is warm inside thanks to an abundance of sunshine.

Memories of whom, you ask? Name it. There are several, and the most notable right now is a person I cannot mention. I will say that I think of her multiple times per hour on a given day. Unfortunately, I can’t go into specifics. Just know that some of the most wondrous moments in my life have been with her. Oh, and Her. Never mind. The point is that I was there and cannot be there anymore. I was inside those moments. Kerry does not have the lower facial feature that I find so gorgeous. She has the opposite type of face, honestly, but it doesn’t matter. I am going to love her soon because it won’t matter or make a bit of difference in the end. The memories will combine with my present fascination and yearning for the subject of the damaging dreams, and the sum will be doom. The cocktail has been poured.

I very nearly made a mistake a little while ago but reined in my consciousness to realize that nothing good can come of anything I do (aside from maintaining the house). The cocktail is probably going to accomplish nothing more than a short period of a numbed mind. That is not the mistake. The fact is whatever took over last year continues to this very day, and for me to dwell upon worrisome conditions is nearly unavoidable lately. I’ve mentioned that the new control center and associated comfort is fantastic right now. This machine and my office cannot hold a candle to the negatives, however. God damn do I ever want to kiss that woman. Jesus. Anyway, the morning moved along just fine until my head failed to push away all of the memories. They began to take over and I froze in my tracks again (hence the drink). The mistake nearly occurred as a result of memories taking over my thoughts and disallowing any other direction. I honestly don’t even know how I skirted the fucking thing. Whatever. I came out the other side better off, I believe. The entire situation has me pretty angry now, too. I don’t seem to have any options in life, nor can I find reason to really try lifting myself. I care about the underlying issue, but if I can’t affect anything, what is the point of wasting effort? I’m just going to live one day and then watch the next day bleed into it. They are all the same.

Alcohol goes really well with both this series and the keyboard. Laugh it up. I am in pain all the fucking time and there is nothing I can do about it. Go ahead and laugh at me. After everything I've placed on this site, I am an easy target. Go for it.



05

Kerry’s character is in a bad way right now. Maybe I could hug her.

Maybe not.

‘You look like laundry.’ Heh.

As of this moment, the rest of my day will likely be nonproductive. I still have to put the dishes away and make salsa, but anything else is probably beyond my ability. The problem from earlier has saddened and angered me, yet with zero fucking recourse, my only option seems to be sitting right here on my sorry ass and typing with the show in the background. I see no other way to proceed right now. There is one situation which may come to pass but I can’t spell it out here. The damaging dreams have not let go, meaning the sensitive nature of such information must expand without exposition. Kerry’s sweet eyes don’t help. I wish they could, although I often wish for many things that are impossible. She is impossible. The subject of those fucking dreams is impossible. Soon, I fear, my happiness will follow suit. This is a very bad situation. A distinct lack of recourse only increases my level of anger. I am here due to my own actions – over which I have held control – and those of other people who I now hold in utter disdain. The only path for me today is to maintain myself in a manner consistent with some fucking semblance of integrity, something I have failed to accomplish on far too many occasions to mention.

Even as early as 1505, I see people returning home from work and I am still thankful I am not one of them. Perhaps I should hold that thought close during these troubling times. I know I’ve mentioned it several times before, but the fact remains I am in a good position here in a few ways. There is a battle inside my head and the previous sentence is not winning.

The other day I mentioned going into defensive mode. Well, that seems to have faded a bit and been overtaken by the idea of heading to the roots of the dire times in ten and eleven. I have a composition playing quietly in the background right now that has the singular ability to send me into the past, mainly those periods in which I was desperate for comfort and understanding. The feeling of this music is indescribable, honestly, and I return to it from time to time whenever I am experiencing the mindset of being trapped. I will not reveal the artist, however. This music is extremely personal and so deep in my heart that to share it would be akin to blasphemy. I am not kidding, either. It is THAT fucking important to me and representative of every aspect of ‘escape’ and ‘happiness’. Yes, those terms are in quotes because after living for more than fifty fucking years, I still cannot begin to understand either of them. What immediately comes to mind at the outset of the first track is far too complex and emotional for me to describe. The truth is that this song, more than any other, forces me to realize that I am in fact free to do as I please in life rather than the idea of being held down by some otherworldly power. I become fairly reckless, though, and often head out to the garage to flex some audio power and relish in my devices. I don’t feel like doing that right now, though. I need to stay here at the table for a little while and then prepare some mango salsa and taco sauce for tonight. I am also feeling the need to avoid my standard playlists and artists if and when there is another garage night between myself and my neighbor. I intend to walk into his garage and stifle the radio so the focus remains on my audio system. That is a type of ‘flexing’ I have not embraced for some years now. This music also brings me closer to the forest mindset, as dangerous and off-putting as it can be for people around me. Defensive mode cannot compare to the way my brain reacts to a few key tracks and the memories they can instantly conjure. There can be nothing else in the world like the feeling I am experiencing at this very moment. It is a lift of sorts, and one I fully intend to prolong. I hold but one flavor of power in this world, and as sad as it may sound, that power is within this fucking little house. This will continue for quite some time, as well. I need something capable of pulling my sorry head out of this morning’s din and raising it as a forthright statement. Switching from video media to music may have just saved me. Damn, I actually took an unlikely step and helped myself today. The bottom line of this entire paragraph is a varying assortment of different types of anger. Believe it. I feel empowered right now. I could not have imagined such a turn a mere hour ago.

1713. The music kept me company as I made the salsa. Very nice. I have not felt like this in many years. So many, in fact, that the compositions brought me to the time of the previous electronic empire in this office and all of the Raven turmoil. Yep, I went against my better judgment and listened to Her favorite track in its entirety. All nine minutes of it, really. The salsa came together under my knives as the memories of us flowed through my head. Thanks to the turn this afternoon, I believe my days ahead will be vastly different from those of the past year. This is just the fucking boost I needed today, and for my near future. I still can’t believe the state of my head has changed so much in the space of two fucking hours.

0735 on Tuesday morning. The weather outside is very cool today. I’ll have to remain indoors until after lunch or so. Other than my usual stuff, I have a bit of laundry to work with, but nothing else is pressing right now. After yesterday’s mood change, the evening rather followed suit as I began to consider the changes that have come about during the last decade. I never really lost my shit, though. It was fine. Nothing bad happened, leaving me to believe today shall benefit from the difference over the last twenty-four hours.

I have to go outside the norm today. Something different, I guess. The feeling is that there can be modifications and improvements – nothing major or dramatic, just different – which I seem to walk by every day. I have to do something without being driven by the typical reasons, such as when I reconfigured the office for the new computer system. In a matter of hours I managed to get this room in order, a situation I’d been putting off for months. The drive was the prospect of this machine and my comfort sitting here. I suppose the thing to do is find the same sort of drive in other areas of the house. I always feel good after accomplishing changes. The morning has been a disaster, believe it or not, and I simply MUST make changes today in order to recover. I can’t have these feelings inside right now; not after yesterday’s realization.

0916. I’ll have to begin my housework soon. The coffee is nearly gone and I have little reason to sit here grumbling.

1119. The routine is finished and I have laundry in the dryer. Earlier, I went through the bookcase to rid it of some items that can be stored rather than left on display. That was the second time I straightened all that stuff, too. Now it is in good order after step two and I am able to store more pressing items on the shelves rather than the drafting table. The clock has not even advanced to lunch time and I already went outside the norm. Very good.

Two hours later and I’ve lost all forward momentum. I had some nice lunch and finished the laundry, though. Better than nothing, I guess. This has been happening too much lately. I have to do something right now.

Ah... Better. At 1432 I successfully moved away from this machine and took care of more house cleaning and organization. Perhaps slowly chipping away at large concerns is the best way to proceed when I begin to lose my way. Such a plan worked today when I was about to give up completely. Ah... I have an idea. I can put on the music from yesterday and see if the same type of mood follows. During the end of ten, I often felt overly reckless and uncaring with regard to the people who knew me and the world in general; all the while with that exact same album in the background. And there it is... The compositions which brought me to and through ten and eleven, only to return in fifteen when my whole universe went fucking sideways as a result of reckless actions and decisions. I am nowhere near that point at present, although there is the inclination to improve the audio supporting my home theatre system. No big deal. All of a sudden I pictured black yoga pants and boots. Whatever. Anyway, the rest of the day should be fine now as long as I can avoid the din which often results from this genre of music. That kind of mood is pretty rare these days, yet it can strike me upside the head if I am not paying attention. I took care of the small issues and may not address them again until tomorrow, music or otherwise.



06

I don’t even know how to label this artist’s music anymore. Some conglomeration of post-black, dark-shoegaze with a juxtaposition of doom and speed metal and layered through overtones of folk and Viking art. Interesting. Maybe that sums it up. I don’t know. One aspect of this artist which irritates the shit out of me these days is the fact that I made the decision to share with another person some time ago and now regret it. No, not the Raven, someone else. The Raven was and will always be exempt from everything. I should have left this stuff out of the car, honestly. That was the catalyst. Well, I can’t do anything about it now, so my only path is to avoid the same kind of pitfall in the future should a similar situation ever arise again. I doubt it. That was a large enough lesson to allow my reception of daily reminders for years. Not good, but as I said, I can’t go back. For posterity, I just replaced the twelve occurrences of the artist’s name with hyphens. I also convoluted any existing track names so they cannot be read.

Those three very damaged years still haunt me every day. Fifteen through seventeen, the latter being a bit easier on my heart due to the passage of time. This music followed the entire way along with little floating images of late ten all over the place. I could not stop seeing imagery from that most defining of seasons. This table is in the same location as the previous setup, the older table now residing in the garage. I am sitting at what was my living room table during the cave period which similarly held the desktop computer prior to moving here. I have the same view out the window and the same music flowing from the speakers. There is something most definitely missing these days, however. I will not reveal what it is. I think about the old entries from those three years and wonder if I will wind up in a similar state of mind at some point. Much of my dissatisfaction with life back then was related to our work, though, and I do not have to adhere to the schedule anymore, nor do I have to worry about what I may see in the City each day. I am rarely up the road that far these days. I basically sat here during weekend mornings and whenever else there was a holiday, but not so much during the work week. By the time I arrived home, the only wish was to relax and maybe prepare dinner. I felt so much fucking turmoil during that years-long period that I often felt I would not make it past the second day of a new year. That’s not bullshit, either. All my favorite periods and holidays flew by and dropped my sorry ass at the outset of the year, and then I’d fall down every damned day over where I was in life. Well, I still do that, yet right now everything feels different. Not only that, but worse in some ways. I can’t fully explain without revealing too much sensitive information. Some of that shit will land me in a bad spot, too. No joke. I did not write as much all those years ago, either. Something changed toward the end of seventeen that drove me to put down stories of my sordid, damaged past. One led to another and then another, finally culminating in some very distraught fiction. No one can read any of that now. The titles are there but the content is gone, perhaps for all time. Right now I just don’t know if I want eyes on my work.

I mentioned everything feels different now than when I sat here during those three key years of the site’s existence. The main issue arose in seventeen when I first acquired the laptop and began to move away from this office. I wrote about feelings of tremendous loss and emptiness laced with depression. I now believe all of that has culminated in desperation, hence my being angry all the fucking time on one level or another. An additional push toward what is 'south of heaven' is the fact that I sit here day in and day out becoming more and more dissatisfied with my condition and situation, and there remains not one fucking thing I can do about it. Oh, this machine and what it provides do help, but keep in mind this machine is also the receiver of my thoughts, none of which are often good. Desperation is dangerous, as I have stated many times, though I have no recourse. The past is fraught with stories of my desperation becoming too much to bear. During those times, I exercised many resources to seek what I needed, afterward finding myself right back where I began. Most often I was worse off for the running. Fifteen was the last time I seriously considered dashing away, although there was more than just my mind at work. My heart was also involved. The downside is realizing now just how deluded I had become, not to mention the nature of my dreamy escape being mostly unreal. There was one night, however, when the two of us very nearly flew the fucking coop. I don’t believe I would be sitting here right now had that insanity actually happened. At present, my head continues to draw forth the desire to do something reckless and insane, but unlike many years ago, I don’t have the resources to get across the street. That is one difference, for sure. Another is the swing my head took last year (which is worsening by the day, mind you) and everything wondrous being completely absent from life. All I have is this office and my devices. Believe me, the differences between those three fucked up years and this very moment in time have had a very fine point put to them, and that is the fucking desperation. This is bad.

Have I mentioned that I may bring my binoculars into the office just in case there is artwork strolling by? I said bad, and I meant it.

Oh, and I have to say that though everything here operates very smoothly after many years of streamlining, the active server pages are now considered to be on their way out. Splendid. As long as I don’t lose support for the framework, the site should remain fine.

I should not be listening to this track. It is Her song, and always will be. She played all eight minutes of it on Her laptop while lying on the bed. Much like the first time we spent some hours together, the Raven wore a sundress and little else. She was so thin, too. Her hair was all over the place. The whole room smelled of flowery soap. I was at work that morning as we sent messages back and forth. I knew She was not well and badly needed to be with Her. I immediately left the job in the city on foot, walked at a brisk pace to the train, rolled all the way to the station five miles south and transferred to a bus. I arrived home roughly an hour after exiting the building on Nob Hill, changed clothes and grabbed a few things, and then hopped into the car and dashed to Her side. I will never forget that morning as long as I draw breath. Maybe the Raven doesn’t mind that I am listening to Her favorite song. I wish I could ask.

1648. I have very little to do for dinner. The salsa is leftover from yesterday, meaning all I have to do is season and saute the protein. Not a lot of work, and that is a good thing today. Between the laundry, my daily routine and then some cleaning of the floor, I feel that my evening will be deserved. Soon I will transition from here to the living room with a cocktail. The third show will grace two televisions just like each night during the past few weeks. The only other time I watch science fiction is while doing housework.

I should not be thinking about Her or the hellish moments of fifteen. Combining that period with booze and this music can be very upsetting. We were happy for a time and connected in ways I had not thought possible. The loss is still overwhelming and makes me very angry. Best I just leave it alone for a while.

I wrote some very detailed descriptions of a few sights during the early years of this present incarnation of the site. Over time, I believe I’ve tired of the effort because all it accomplishes (aside from making me appear even worse than I really am) is to help those images remain inside far too long, essentially taking over completely and driving me out of my mind. The last issue was in the market the other day and I will admit to going on a bit too much about her. During sixteen and seventeen, my words were restricted to very mechanical and mathematical descriptions, whereas now they have become laced with desire. This is the worst aspect of desperation, to be honest. I can deal with little things here and there, but when my eyes fucking lock to a very special form (a rarity), the condition of my head steers the fucking train into a smoldering abyss of physical yearning. Yep, I said it straight out. I wanted to stare at her to my heart’s content and then paint all of it with my tongue. This is the result of that key essay from seventeen growing out of control during the ensuing years. Oh, and I just raised the binoculars to watch a pair of yoga pants stroll along the sidewalk across the street. Nice, huh? The plot thickens. Anyway, I no longer have the drive for drafting such detail as I did years ago, mostly because there is just too much fucking harm involved. I still see everything, yet I can’t get myself to describe too much within these downtrodden essays anymore.

I don’t know what is going to happen in the future, but one inkling is that I will continue in this vein until the need arises for me to be hospitalized. As I already said on this page somewhere, go ahead and laugh. I am an easy target these days. No wonder I spend all my time alone.



07

0734 and Allie’s big, brown eyes are on the television (well, the fuckin’ Intanet version of TV, anyway). Damn, that girl is lovely first thing in the morning. I have the early business finished and my second cup of coffee all fixed up. During the last hour I have been reminiscing about an early dream that involved so many different ideas that I still can’t believe all that had been going on inside one house. I have to think about this one for a while before trying to detail anything, though. Consider the idea of Jamie and the girl from the damaging dreams in the same area, and at the same time. Two of the most powerful idea/vision combinations ever in my life. I walked the girl across the street to help her because something had been wrong and she was upset. As I said, I need to think about the experience of that dream for a while before I can comment further. Just picture Jamie smiling and resting her head against mine in one of those famous loving, caring gestures. Holy crap.

Today is Wednesday and I just secured two more domains for the business end of the site. Nice. I am going to change the name very soon, too. Right now I need to wait for the server information and DNS entries to catch up to the changes I’ve just implemented. Once everything is in place, I will perform the switch. Not bad. Now if I could just get her breasts out of my fucking head, the day might move forward as I would prefer. Sometimes there is quite literally nothing I can do to remove her wonder from my mind. She drives me crazy. I held her with both hands in the dream, too. I fucking held her because she wanted to be held by yours truly. I had to take care of her.

Ooh-fa, I need to get the hell away from that topic for a while. The realization helped me yesterday and I fully expect it will do the same today. I can already feel the push. I feel other moods, as well, yet I must shove all of them away if this is to be a regular day. Part of me is now dead inside due to the last several years, but that does not mean that I have completely given up on everything. The desperation will not go away, nor can I stop it from dictating my path on random days. The whole thing really depends upon my willingness to push back. I have to do that at this very moment and continue for the next several hours or shit will go awry.

Oh, that dream. Jamie was sitting at the dining table in a house where I lived more than thirty years ago. She had a blank expression as I asked her a very important question. And then she smiled slightly and leaned toward me, eventually touching my forehead with hers. She warmed my heart, just as in the other dreams. Always warm. The other one? With the breasts? I held her for a time and stared at her face as we walked across the street. That is all. This is all to fucking much for me right now. One of them in a dream, but not both for fuck’s sake. Each paragraph is going to hold some thought from what I experienced late last night. Sometimes I recall dreams, fall asleep again, and then forget everything by the time I have to rise from bed. Last night, the entire affair was in my head prior to midnight and remained as such. I can still see the scenery, characters and food. I can hear that sweet voice thanking me for helping her deal with difficulty. I can feel Jamie’s eyes upon my face. Damn it all. I wish I didn’t know anything.

0843. Today will be much like yesterday other than needing to visit the market a bit later. There is Coral on the screen again. I’d like to lick her face. Anyway, I plan to continue working within the bookcase and office today. The atmosphere reminds me of years ago when I had the other desktop computer in here and ran the second show all the time. I’d move into the office and put the program on one display, and then my heart would fill with memories of every place I’d lived up to that point and the way that series always followed along. When I was working in this office yesterday, I felt the comfort of being in my element and surrounded by the devices I need in order to feel that my world is in order (for the most part). I’ll pick up where I left off yesterday, I guess. The office has somehow become a parable for much of my life. When it advances, I feel ok for the most part. During those times when everything is in disarray, my head can’t function as well as I’d like. I noticed yesterday that between the older music and spending time at the keyboard helped me to return to the days when I barely survived each work day only to feel the bliss of sitting here on Saturday mornings. I can’t overstate the impact those two days had on my ability to keep moving forward (somewhat). Right now I can sense all of it will help me get through this day, and hopefully many others. Time will tell, yet this is definitely a good start.

God damn do I ever want that girl sometimes. Jesus. This is not good. 0921.

I think I’m going to employ the usual method of finishing half the routine prior to shopping. Returning to take care of the kitchen and pouring a nice cocktail is always a good combination. Very rewarding, that stuff. Once the routine is out of the way, I’ll return here to continue where I left off yesterday. In and around the office work, I plan to begin rewriting the long, multi-year story that I began back in eighteen. That one needs to be polished over time so I can try publishing the entire saga as one long tale, effectively combining all seventeen sections into a book. That may seem strange due to the subject matter, but the work contains some of what I consider my best writing. The style was different back then, too. Anyway, assembling everything will take months, I believe, so the beginning must happen soon. This continuing diary cannot be interrupted, however, and that means diligence above other concerns. All this adds up to the fact that I must head to the market very soon. The coffee is all gone for the morning.

My decision to listen to the music on Monday really swung my mood from being down and concerned to feeling empowered and positive. There was a bit of a reckless feeling in there, too, yet since I really can’t do anything crazy, the thoughts didn’t lead anywhere bad. The same thing happened yesterday, as well. I believe I’ll move in such a direction once business is completed. In and around working on the site, I can employ similar methods to care for little things throughout the afternoon. I honestly think this is my best path right now. The second upside to the music and its related pull on my mood is the fact that the desire becomes secondary. I still have terribly desperate considerations, but nothing overtakes me as it did in weeks past. The new year has just begun, and if the recent switch from video media to heartwarming music helps, I fully intend to continue in such a vein for the duration. Well, at least until something better comes along. I will admit that the tracks in question do conjure very detailed and stirring memories of the Raven and that entire period when we engaged in some excessively damaging behavior, some good and some bad, although I’ve noticed enough time has passed that I don’t come out the other side as angry as years ago when everything was fresh. The result is that I will probably mention Her much more often than I once did. The music is so important to me that I can’t avoid embracing the deeply emotional state which encapsulates my heart.

Coral has the lower face thingy. You know... The trait that I still fail to describe.

The time is now 1106 and I have the routine finished, save for drying the dishes. Lately, I’ve been allowing them time to drip for a while before using the towel. I went to the market and picked up everything on my short list, during which there was a fucking stunning goddess there for my enjoyment. God damn, her face was amazing, beautiful and stirring. And yes, she was wrapped in yoga pants and appearing as the sole redemption to visiting an otherwise bland atmosphere. Holy shit was her face ever gorgeous. A rarity, for sure. Upon returning with my head all intertwined in her legs, I finished the routine and poured the requisite glass of depressant to keep me company as I worked. Now I have some time to relax and gather my thoughts prior to having lunch. Oh, fuck... There is Coral again. The facial trait of a lifetime is displayed beautifully on her sculpted face. Wow. I could lick her fucking cheeks. Ugh. Whatever. Anyway, my plan for the day is as of yet unchanged and I will engage myself very soon. I have the show on the right-hand display right now, although the pull of my music is going to win very soon. And now I see Kerry. Shit. Time to switch and enhance the mood in the office. We go...



08

Andrea was an inch taller than the Raven’s five-seven frame, yet they both had very similar lines on their thighs. I can’t say too much, though, because I do not wish to be disrespectful. The Raven carried what is likely the most stunning feature of the female form that I have ever seen. I was reminded the other day while synchronizing my phone for the first time with this computer. The machine backed up all data and photos, and during the process I caught a reminder of a moment captured by me a few years ago. We were at the local festival which takes place in September each year. I shot the image when we were taking a break at the north end of the street. The compulsion took me over and I had to create a reminder that could remain in my thoughts for all time. The focus was not revealed at the time, however. I had my reasons for doing what I did, yet no one knew at the time that my head was wrapped around the Raven’s stunning thighs. That is all I will say. Anyway, this entire line of thinking will cause all manner of shitty situations in my brain, therefore I must tread lightly. The point is that I made a connection between the image I captured at the festival and that of the Raven during a very bad day roughly eight years ago. The outing started out just fine. It ended several hours later with me as close to committing suicide as I had ever been. The time has come to shift gears. This day has been rewarding and I don’t want the worst switch on the tracks thrown right now. I have to keep my head up as best I can.

One of these days there is going to be a very uncomfortable conversation.

July of twelve was one of the most desperate periods of my entire life. Of course, it was squashed by fifteen, but I did not know at the time that the woman of my dreams (and much more) was going to cross my vision and become fused to my heart. Andrea had been the most amazing woman I’d ever met up until I sat in the fucking construction office and saw the Raven for the first time, and keep in mind I was employed at that firm more than three years after losing the angel. The Raven and I spoke on and off during those moments when I had to spend time in the office, eventually driving my severely weakened and desperate brain to advance the small talk so far beyond the norm that I actually scared myself and considered disappearing from society. Going back to twelve, there had been a very solid reason for my fascination and subsequent risk of lifestyle and comfort in order to be close to the same. Of course, I can’t sit here and spell out the whole fucking thing, but suffice to say the present period is not the only time I recognized being so desperate that I was willing to throw away my entire life for a few key moments of happiness and fulfillment. The Raven was more, to be honest, and came along at a time when my constitution was at an all-time low. I really hope this day doesn’t go into the shitter. Right now I am feeling loosened by the booze and on the edge of sending everything into a fucking massive, reckless tailspin. I must be careful. Recalling the beauty and magic of the Raven and my time with Andrea is bad enough without sprinkling moments from mid-twelve into the fucking mix. I am halfway into the soil right now, but the day can and will improve, mark my words.

I need to go outside the ‘norm’ and set myself up with some decent fucking audio, damn it. If my head travels further south, I’ll formulate a solid plan and make it happen. This is not a good situation by any means, but one driven by my ongoing desperate need to lash out at the world because I am unhappy. There it is, cut and fucking dry. I have been exactly where I needed on very few occasions. The lack of comfort is getting the best of me right now. The difficulty of twelve began to develop inside my head and I nearly ran with the subject. I can’t do that right now, nor can I spell out the reasons. I am beginning to rub my hands together between typing words, and that is not good. I am on the precipice right now. The edge. I don’t want to fall, damn it.

Five minutes later and lunch is underway. I have the tuna salad I made yesterday with crackers. The salad is more flavorful after residing in the refrigerator overnight. The clock displays 1223 right now, meaning I have several hours ahead to do as I see fit. That is both good and bad, the latter having taken over my mind on too many occasions to list. After typing the previous paragraph, I realized that the line was before me and I made the choice to remain productive and upright rather than allowing memories and music to drive me into the ground. Once lunch is finished, my best decision is to work here in the office as I mentioned above. The alternative is not good. Well, it’s not entirely bad. I can swing the hammer a bit and come out the other side alright. I’ve done it before. The key is to avoid any additional booze for the next several hours.

1300 straight up. I am finished with lunch and have as of yet not poured anything with alcohol. I have just water on the table. I don’t know if I have the drive to work in the office today. The idea was to carry on with what I started days ago, but my mood is very negative. The desperation has a much stronger grip at present than when I began this sinful series of essays. I can’t believe I feel this way at my age. It is ridiculous, although I am but one person and cannot possibly empathize with all of society. There are doubtless many others in a much worse state than myself, and I am not referring to any wars, disasters or some political bullshit. I am far too insignificant to be compared with the larger picture. Everything is unclear right now because my head will not cease dreaming of her, the other one, the past, or all the other shit I’ve brought to this site in the last three years. I feel as if there is a giant ball of information pressing on my head that was formed like an endless string all rolled up into a mishmash of imagery and memories. I have no options nor recourse. I have this computer, my slew of devices and a head full of negative energies. I don’t recall how many times I’ve stated that something has to happen, but the reasons for that type of desperation are crystal clear.

I mentioned the wonder of mid-twelve, but I did not detail the driving force behind it all. I can’t say it here. Just know that what took place in late ten, early eleven and early fifteen are three situations that hold one specific trait in common. All of those periods were fraught with sadness, as well. Wonder and sadness, anger and desperation. I am sitting here right now as a product of too many past connections to overcome. The future is on hold, as always, and the reasons are many. Oh, but they are all connected. Pants are involved. Believe it.

I have all but lost direction today. At least I took care of a few tax issues for this season. To be honest, I could head down a very bad path right now if I don’t work to keep my head on straight. And when I say ‘work’, I mean it. Just like that fifty-year old woman that you saw jogging along the road the other day, work is the key. She did not end up looking like a million bucks from being an alcoholic pizza addict who spends all her time on the sofa. It is work, just like the massive amount of daily effort required in me avoiding a fall.

The fight inside me is in full swing right now. I am lost and disillusioned, yet somehow able to remain upright for the most part. Being almost completely cut off from the society of which I was once a part really helps, though. I would rather be totally fucked up while holed up in this house rather than anywhere else, least of all the fucking City where fashion is dictated by boots and leggings. I really don’t need any more of that shit in my head. I see a few out the window from time to time, but nothing much at all when held against the power of the City. I am the one who severed the connection with all those people, too. Me. I took all of it and shoved it to the rear with more force than was necessary for the censure of their company, believe me. My world began to shrink and still is as such. Tiny. Just me and my thoughts. None of this is good or healthy in any way conceivable. I took my existence and truncated it so much that I can barely see outside. Oh, and when I am able to gaze out there, I see nothing more than some errant female form that stirs my brain into the froth atop Satan’s fucking latte. The lion’s share of my remaining years alive will be spent right here in this fucking chair. Or maybe the denomination is days. I'm not certain.

I had better not lose today’s fight. No one will like it. Not even me."



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