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A Desperate Beginning

alert   Mature content     No. 359    Published February 13th, 2023 2:51pm pst       read ( words)     Past entries

"I guess I was incorrect about the weather. The temperature is lower than it seemed, plus the rain is falling again. Wow. Maybe I will remain inside all day.

0904 on the same morning as the previous entry was completed. Published? Nope. Nothing has been published since December. I have not wanted anyone to see what has been written since then. Don’t ask why because I don’t have an answer. Some of what I’ve typed is of a very sensitive nature, yet still there has not been much that anyone could decipher. Everything is inside my head. Most of it cannot be revealed to anyone, ever. The dreams and visions in my brain are not good.

I’ve seen the lines. Certain lines, of course, nothing in general. I am not referring to images, either. There was an infantile beginning to this obsession, as well. I believe it was discovered some years ago while writing as I traveled back in time to before the move to the Midwest. Years prior to that adventure, honestly. There was a moment and a garment. I wished to stare for a little while and was granted exactly that request. I think I brought this up within the last two years but it would be very difficult to find. The point is that my obsession may have begun at that moment. It could also have birthed when I saw Marci walking away from the camera some years later. I thought of both occasions the last time I was staring at the very lines with which I have been obsessed. I stared at her until I could no longer. All those occasions and moments have summed and created a very difficult situation, one that I am hesitant to fully define. None of the damaging dreams involved her lines. Not a single one, honestly. Two were focused upon the way I felt and the realization that she felt the same. Emotion rather than anything physical. I believe that fact is the main reason I am having so much trouble reconciling the dreams and what I’ve felt since the first. I’ve not even focused upon her lines as much as I’ve pictured others. If I sit here and state that I want her, I am referring to something physical. On the other hand, if my focus is actually shifting from lines and breasts to the way I feel inside when she smiles, that means my heart is involved. Not good. My love for the Raven began with her lines. I wanted to see, and not long after I was completely in love with Her. I can’t have that happening again, although there is a massive gradient between the Raven and the subject of my dreams. Unfortunately, I can’t spell it out here. This whole obsession with lines has driven me out of my mind on more than a handful of occasions. What is worse? My heart. Very bad.

I’ve stated that my feelings for Jamie are restricted to her character on the show. The same goes for Jolene. I know nothing of the actual people. God damn is Coral ever gorgeous. Ah, shit. I’m losing my train of thought. I was trying to go somewhere with the idea that fantasy and fiction have helped me to withdraw further from reality than I had been three years ago. The damaging dreams in particular have demonstrated that such fantasy is bordering on becoming more important to me than the real world. Well, maybe I didn’t lose the train. There it is, cut and dry. I believe my dissatisfaction with reality has driven my desperation into the fucking stratosphere. The more I daydream (or dream while sleeping), the less my real life seems fulfilling in any way. All I have are the devices and this never-ending analysis.

I am still waiting for everything to come to a head. I’ve said as much for a long time, too. One of these days, I feel that the desperation will become too much to bear and I’ll be forced into doing something very reckless and damaging. I keep trying to learn, yet more and more often I find myself realizing there is nothing that can be done. This is a bad situation. All I can do for the time being is continue to embrace the little comforts, sit at this table and write, and maintain an appreciation for the lifestyle I’ve been able to enjoy. That is, my own time management, the peace and quiet of the house, media of choice, and some agreeable meals. I simply must remember that the positives to this current period are many. Perhaps such focus can help me to avoid disaster.

1013. Cocktail time. Ah... That’s better. The routine will be very quick today thanks to a simple dinner last night and the fact that I swept the entire house yesterday. I learned some months ago that I need not do the whole house every day, just every other. I usually clean up a bit where the cat bowls are, though. They can be a bit sloppy. Heh. I love those little guys.

I am going to spend a lot of time at this control center today. In and around this work or when I need a break, I’ll take care of some other small items in the house.

Something interesting occurred to me yesterday. I mentioned that I do not know the girl. Anyone reading these essays will be clueless as to who she may be, and considering my penchant for fantasy and fiction (recall that I manufactured the idea of a machine and included such a creation in fiction), readers could conclude that there is actually no girl at all, only an unknown person of whom I dreamed several times. The girl that Octavian married is amazing in some ways and frightening in others. Heh. Anyway, the subject of the damaging dreams has remained veiled due to my tremendous fear regarding what took place last year between spring and fall. I can’t say what it is. I will say that a massive clue went walking out of the court that I can see from my vantage point, and when that clue returns from a stroll around the block, I will be looking at it the entire time. What is the clue? I can’t say that, either. Just know that the subject causes me much distress these days. Oh, and the clue has one hell of a set of lines. Where was I with the girl? Hmm. I lost my train again. Whatever. The fact is that she may or may not actually exist and no one other than me will ever know the truth. Period. Onward.

Right now the entirety of my work on this site – including several essays that remain unfinished – comprises only 15.31MB. That seems a small number, yet when referring to nothing more than text, it is actually quite a bit. The character of Cleopatra within this program is one of the scariest females ever. That means the actor is great at what she does on the screen. Just saying.

The house no longer needs to remain quiet, and that means it’s time to put the third show onto two televisions and take care of the routine. Maybe I’ll cook something for brunch, too. I have all day to do whatever feels best. I shall return to this when appropriate, or at least when I have more to say.

1246. I finished the routine and had something to eat. A light snack for the time being. I don’t know what to say about the latest entries and my emotional condition. At some point I will probably run out of words, effectively saving anyone who may come across this site some questions. Or not.

I have no clue as to what I can do with the rest of this day. There are always projects and the aforementioned office work, yet my ambition for the day is waning. Something will eventually grab my attention. This morning was not fun at all. I am damaged over this situation and I don’t see any type of future for it. No recourse; no avenues. I’ll have to think about all this shit for a while, I guess. Today and tomorrow are good for quiet contemplation and Monday will be even better. I have no schedule other than my own. No work equals no worries on that front. There will be additional mornings in which I become distressed. I must consider everything carefully. I don’t believe there has been a period in my life in which I needed quiet and solace more than right now.

I sat here for a long while without touching the keyboard because more and more often lately I do not see the good of it. The bad takes over, like this morning, and there is nothing I can do to alleviate the feelings of loss. A situation without options often creates anger, yet anger accomplishes nothing except for other people keeping their distance. That is fine, too, but I’d prefer to make some sort of statement through my actions. As of yet, the only action I’ve taken is to swing the hammer. Not good. I have no recourse and am worsening by the day, especially when I sit here in the morning. That is often when I can think clearest. There is a downside, however. This morning was a perfect example.



13


I need to see more. I am desperate to see everything and it cannot come to pass. I just keep thinking and yearning day after day. I just restarted the vampires on the second display. This will be twice through the series just this calendar year. Nice. As I’ve stated on many occasions, I am a creature of habit, and those habits bring comfort. Anyway, despite my desperate need to see everything she carries, nothing can ever come of it due to one specific detail that has been left out of this content. It will continue to be as such, too. There is no way I can discuss the matter with another person. I wish I could, believe me. I fucking need something these days. The more I think of her, the more I’d like to gaze, and then my head can only descend into that other territory.

The time is now 1558 and I am spinning my wheels. The afternoon is mellow and quiet, unlike the inside of my head. The cyclone continues to mix everything into a circle and then I have to sit here and deal with the resulting fallout. Spinning, as I said above. There has to be something I can do today in order to alleviate the feeling that I’m going nowhere. I’ll be making dinner and finishing off the kitchen later, and tomorrow is the stupid bowl (heh), but for the next couple of hours I really have no clue as to how I can improve my day. A lack of recourse for my ever-increasing feelings for her is bad enough. I really don’t need my daytime hours shut down like this. The weather is cold, meaning anything in the garage would be uncomfortable, plus I already took care of my office work, and that adds up to my feeling that I have to fill the time somehow. Maybe I should build an online order of a few necessities.

I mentioned that this morning was unpleasant. Tomorrow will likely be worse. Splendid. At least I have the Sunday garbage business along with my daily stuff. That’s better than nothing. Coffee time will lead to difficulty, but at some point around mid-morning, I’ll head into my routine and then work on the garbage. If I decide to watch the overblown game, everything should be finished by then. Kickoff is near 1600. Always late, that one, due to tons of pregame bullshit.

I went to the garage for a break and organized some paperwork, splitting it between whatever needs to be shredded versus that which can be tossed directly into the recycle. Very exciting. Now I have a nice glass of depressant next to me to go with the vampires. This office is so damned comfortable that I still can’t believe what I’ve done here. This setup was a huge dream and now I am sitting in front of it with a big, fat drink. Nice. I mentioned that I have to remain mindful of the positives. Right now I have three of them on the table.

There are several different aspects to feeling so desperate lately. The process began and was heightened to a dramatic degree back in seventeen, eventually forcing me to craft that damned entry. The failed fantasy is one part of this shit. God damn does Lafayette suck down the booze while he’s working. Heh. He is hands down the best character on the show, and one of the best I have EVER seen. Anyway, seventeen was the beginning of me writing about desperation. Since first publishing that crap, I’ve worsened so much that I almost can’t believe I am still at it. There have been highs and lows during the intervening five-plus years, although right now I am much worse off emotionally and far more desperate than when I first typed those words. Everything in between then and now has been summed into two categories. One is bad, the other good. I will not state the reasons, nor will this content go into more detail. Not right now, anyway. I need to consider possible ramifications before sending my words through the keyboard. Seventeen was tough, for sure, mainly due to the continuing depression and feelings of loss after mid-fifteen. That incident was one of the worst parts of my entire life. I still miss Her as much right now as I did when She left. That woman defined many of the doll’s traits and even expanded on a few. They were only two years apart in age. Yep, shoot me. I don’t care. I believe the desperation I felt in seventeen was in part due to missing Her so much and being reminded of Ashley at the same time. That was very difficult and very nearly sent me over the edge. Things changed the following year, too. As bad as seventeen had become, little did I know that just a few years later they would worsen beyond belief. By the middle of last year, the sheer weight of the dreams and what took place inside me whenever I ran across some errant sight in society caused a massive drop in my ability to cope. At present, I am surprised to still be moving along each day with my responsibilities. The threat is apparent and there is nothing I can do about it, nor can I voice anything to another person. There were occasions in which I scratched the surface of underlying issues, too. All those conversations accomplished exactly nothing. Nothing. Believe it. In fact, they have served to worsen my condition rather than the opposite. Remember what I said about the music? Once the information is out there, I cannot get it back. That is a failing in me, for sure. I tried to reach and ended up coming out the other side feeling smaller than ever before. I have been recalling times with the Raven during the past week or so, as you may well know, and most of it has been depressive. Between Her and the doll, I’ve come to realize that such connections cannot form in the future. I am too far gone now and cannot be of any good to anyone.

I placed my online order for some household stuff and a few frivolous items to make me smile. The time is now 1742, meaning I should transition to the kitchen and take care of it while preparing some dinner for tonight. My show will follow along.

0649 on Sunday morning. I have the news and my coffee. The cats were happy to be fed this morning, too. I am still thinking about the correlation between the doll and Raven from yesterday. This is probably going to be on my mind for some time, too. My typical Sunday work should prove rewarding later, plus I already have a head start on the office should I decide to continue in such a vein. On and off, I shall be here daydreaming of those two and yearning to see the other one. Every now and then I think of possible disturbing historical parallels involving the subject. The best path may be to simply relax and remember where I am in life and that nothing has been upended as of yet. Perhaps I really am a tad stronger than in the year fifteen. Heh. Anyway, my routine and whatever else will kick off after the coffee is gone. For right now, however, I am going to sit here and think about everything with my friends in the background.

Coffee cup number two.

I have to consider the idea that there had been a very strong pull toward Ashley once I saw her strolling around the casino. Very strong. Everyone else was different, too. I can’t very well explain this if I’m still trying to understand, although I’ll say straight out that her eyes grabbed me first and would not let go. The girl in the damaging dreams did the same thing. As for the Raven, well... I was unable to see Her face at first, to be honest. The office atmosphere did not allow me to speak with Her on the first occasion. Conversation between us did not take place for some days afterward. Once we spoke for a few moments, however, I was reeled all the way in and could not believe the beauty in Her eyes. First? Ashley’s eyes. Then? The Raven. Now? The answer is the one in the dreams and the way she looked at me during those fleeting moments during my sleep. Eyes again, believe it or not. There is another correlation between all three, as well, but I will not say it. The girl at the pool more than three years ago may have shared such a trait. I don’t know, though. Once I held a short conversation with the doll, I was all the way in. I had to see her outside work. The Raven was the same. I had been compelled to address Her and ask questions, and within minutes of speaking and watching Her face change, I had to be closer. There is one huge, shining difference lately. I knew those two. I do not know the other one. This is going fucking nowhere this morning.

I referred to my time with the doll as sinful, remember? That word has popped up in a few titles lately.

Well, here we fucking go with a repeat of yesterday. I really don’t need this shit right now, either. There is plenty going on inside my head and adding more to the pile is only going to result in me becoming angry yet again and being unpleasant toward other people. I don’t care because I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know what the fuck happened last year, but I will say that between my desperation and the damaging dreams, twenty-two is beginning to rank with the worst years in memory. As of yet, the only positive to this calendar year is the damned machine upon which I am currently typing. I am concerned for the future. If I can’t speak to someone soon, I’m afraid everything is going to continue to worsen until I decide to destroy something. I have had it with this same shit coming along when I least expect it. I don’t want to have to force the issue. The typical result when I begin to leverage a situation is permanent damage and I don’t think I can deal with any of that right now. I have to maintain the apple cart and continue to seek answers.



14


I suppose the main connection between those two goddesses was one specific personality trait. The doll first brought it to my mind when we spoke quietly on her sofa, and then the subject returned to us later in my hotel room, again during subdued moments of conversation. As for the other one, well... A few choice words were whispered into my ear at our favorite meeting place. I will say right now that those words immediately took me back almost twelve years in the space of a split second. I thought of the doll yet again, soon after realizing that the woman sitting up against me in that lounge was someone for which I had been searching for a very long time. She is gone and the search continues.

0820 is what I see on the little clock. I’ll pour the last of the coffee very soon. The beginning of the routine shall follow. I see myself taking lots of little breaks today so I can think. The main issue will be keeping the Raven and the doll at a distance whilst working through the day. When I begin to dwell upon either of them (or both), bad things happen in my head. I begin to believe that the only forward motion from here into the future will be a downward grade into the black of misery and insanity. If I can keep myself busy and/or distracted, thoughts and dreams will not affect me quite so much like they did this morning. I also have to push the subject of those fucking dreams away because right now she represents so much desire that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Very bad. Jesus fuck, do I ever want her all over me and vice versa. Damn. Anyway, the time has come for me to enjoy the last of the coffee. My show is following along.

1127. Earlier this morning I discovered a wonderful thing. My smart camera in the garage can be viewed within a browser. Yep. At first, I began to search for information regarding the ability to connect to the camera via the Internet, and ended up with a ton of convoluted code that was required to allow the different ‘languages’ to speak with each other. Well, that went bad in a matter of minutes. After searching with different terms, I ran across a link to a site using a QR code to log in to the camera’s server account. A few clicks later and there it was. I can now sit here and monitor the outside area without using my phone. I’ll have to relocate the camera, but considering the warmer weather so far today, I can investigate the idea while working on the garbage and dry cleaning. Viewing the driveways and street from this control center is fantastic. Once lunch is out of the way, I’ll head to the garage and explore different locations for the camera so as to yield the widest view.

I have the house to myself for the next few hours. All of the work this morning – the routine is finished – has left me feeling the need to get off my feet for a while. So, here I sit for the next hour or more. I have the vampires on the right-hand display for comfort. I only started this series yesterday, so it will keep me company for many days. The trouble this morning faded a bit due to learning about the camera connection and my subsequent joy in knowing I can survey the outside world from my chair. Now the control center is even more closely aligned with the vision I had last fall. Very good. Anything with the ability to put a smile on my face or bring a measure of comfort is very important right now. And speaking of comfort, I have lunch in the oven.

Ah... Lunch is ready.

1401. Retreat. In mind. In... Mind. Jesus holy fucking Mary, Joseph and every other fucking thing, I didn’t need to see her. God damn fuck me in a pair of black pants. I had been in the garage working on a mount to relocate the camera, finishing the dry cleaning and doing a general straightening, when none other than a fucking goddess was sighted across the street. If you thought I was not already far out of balance, listen to this shit. I dropped everything and ran (ran!) into the office to grab my field glasses and see her more closely. That was wonderful and terrible at the same time. Just as she turned the corner, I was able to pull clear focus and see the lines of Andrea, the Raven, and about a fucking dozen other examples of the highest level of artwork in existence. Right over there. She was right fucking there... Walking into the court. My vantage point was squarely behind her gait and I saw more lines and curves than I’ve seen for a very long time. She put the one at the electronics store to shame. I swear I do not fucking need this right now. Oh, too late. There is a huge problem, too. I don’t even know where to fucking start. I’ve already been right in the middle of plenty. My work was completely derailed and I retreated into the house for the second time after attempting to compose myself and head back to the project. I don’t know why, though. Nothing helps. She lives right over there and I will see her again, no doubt. This is so bad, especially considering TWO terrible mornings in a row and my head already positioned about as sideways as it can get. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, I can’t remember the last time I felt so desperate.

Everything that was in my head for today is now meaningless. I don’t know what to do.

Maybe I was this desperate eight years ago when I saw that the Raven had the lines of a lifetime. I don’t know. All I can do is reach. This is so bad.

I spent a bit of time in the backyard trimming one tree (the one that used to be a shrub) and one of the flower bushes to ensure everything appears neat. The weather is warm enough to work out there, something I haven’t felt in quite some time. The dry cleaning is put away, too. I still have some of the garbage work left, but if I can’t think straight I may as well sit right here at the table for a while. I’ve seen her several times before, although never from such an angle nor so closely. I’ve turned into the type of person who looks out the office window through field glasses. Isn’t that just peachy?

God damn do I ever need to see her again. Shit on it, anyway. I have to finish the garbage at some point and put away the dishes, but right now I seem to be frozen and can’t move in any other direction. Maybe my plan to make dinner will end up derailed like my brain. Eh... I don’t fucking care.

1603. I am back in the office and I put the game on my right side display. I had forgotten about it for hours. Heh. I don’t care anyway. After seeing the artwork across the street earlier, nothing is going to hold my attention for very long. God damn was she amazing. I wish I could describe the sight. Whatever. I am worse off, as usual. The game won’t help because I want both teams to lose. Much of the garbage work is finished and I took care of polishing off the kitchen. Everything is in good order. I need to make a brine for tomorrow’s dinner, too. Keeping my eye on Sunday business allows me to look forward to a relaxing Monday, one of my favorite days of the week. My plan for the rest of this day is pretty straightforward. My plan for tomorrow is to take it easy and try to work through how I became so fucking desperate and full of turmoil whenever I see something stirring.

One of the commercials featured two goddesses, one of whom resembled the Raven. Splendid. I am a fucking basket case.

I am having a difficult time trying to organize thoughts and get them through the keyboard. The game is barely a distraction, but I may yet shut it off to avoid any possible issues. The football play itself is not an issue. The ads can be, though. At least I am comfortable sitting here and looking at the sunshine. Fuck, do I ever need to see her again. Damn it. Anyway, I’ll move into the kitchen in a little while to prepare the brine and remove the last of the trash. The evening should be nice so long as I can extricate the fucking desperate desire and torment from my brain. Jesus, her lines were unlike anything I’ve seen in quite some time. I need those lines, God damn it.



15


All the way back to that little view in the late eighties, through the nineties when I saw Marci, and then some fucking thing in the mid-zeros when I began to look at models differently and gush over their height. Now? I ran into the house to look at a girl walking across the street with my binoculars. What the fuck happened? Is it all desperation? Am I just that weak? Was seventeen much worse than I remember? I understand being obsessed with some aspect of people or their appearance, but Jesus... This is fucking ridiculous. I realize that when there is something special to see that is nearby, my best course for self-help is to avoid looking. I’ve done that before. Actually, I’ve saved myself on many occasions when I knew there would be turmoil if I gazed at a woman. The question is this: How did I worsen so much just since last year? Was it the dreams? Those are focused upon only one individual. Could she have scarred me to the point of yearning this much? As usual, there are no answers. Maybe I should have written more pointed words regarding the barren years (not the fucking ballgame). I don’t know. Nothing I do here seems to make any difference these days. I went to the eighties in my mind and remembered what is likely the very first vision of lines. I had no idea of how to define them or reconcile anything back then, but I knew what I needed to see. Other tidbits floated in, as well, such as shortly before my wedding in eighty-eight. I can’t really comment in detail, however. The situation was bad. Something had to have taken place between when I was first interested in the structure of runway models and seeing the Raven in the office many years later. I can’t find anything, though. Ten years ago when I was in the City for work and saw some woman with lines on display, I felt a yearning to see her more closely. Some years later I tried to create a project out of the mechanics of physical beauty. That failed. These days, the emotional impact of such sights is far worse than ever before. Rather than wishing to see up close, I am desperate for that and much more. This is very bad. I can’t stress that enough. I have to find out what changed between those two time periods mentioned above. Something happened, and if I can’t locate the cause, I may just lose my mind for good. Today is a perfect example of the most desperate feelings I have ever experienced.

I don’t understand why she pulled at my senses so much. That is not normal. At least, I don’t believe it is. I could be wrong, but the fact remains I’ve not heard another person speak the way I think. I’m sure there are plenty of whack jobs all over the world. I never thought I would be one of them. The time is 1952. Sitting at the control center this late in the evening is quite atypical for me. The game is over and I decided to relax here for a while prior to bed. We ate a bit earlier than usual, too. That means the evening is nice and peaceful and I have the space to continue trying to understand what drove my questionable behavior earlier. This is not something I take lightly.

Ok, let’s dissect the afternoon. I am always looking out either the window in front of me – not right now, though, because it’s dark and my blinds are closed – or the big garage door when I am out there. The view is just a neighborhood with hills in the background. Part of me is always keeping watch due to ten years of living next door to law enforcement and learning to be diligent about the area. We communicate about security when needed. The other part of me is watching the street in case something comes by that might interest my deviant sense of beauty. I don’t stare. I glance. If I am busy with something, like today’s project, I’m sure people pass and I don’t notice. My view from the garage is the width of two properties, nothing more. Once in a while I catch sight of a woman, glance twice to analyze, and then she moves out of view. There have been a few occasions when I was completely floored, and I believe I’ve mentioned them on the site in the past. My typical reaction is one of wonder and then deep sadness. Whatever I happen to be involved in at the time fades immediately and I pause everything because the sight hits hard. Sometimes I’ll pace around or crack a beer. After a little while, I can begin to focus again and the darkness starts to lift. The day moves along with me a tad lower than prior to the vision. When that girl paused her walk with the kids some weeks ago, she stood square to my vantage point and I flipped the fuck out. I believe all that shit is in an earlier entry. That one hurt, bad. I could no longer function. Whatever I had been doing flew out of my head like a frightened bird and was replaced with a desperate need to see her lines and understand my feelings. I stared at her as long as she was within view knowing full well that there would be problems inside me after the fact. I immediately needed more... I needed to see her lines up close and trace them, reproduce them on paper, or some such action that could leave more than a memory. I felt so strongly that my head could not add two and two. Everything else became unimportant. Cut to this afternoon.

The same style and color of pants were wrapped around that goddess, yet there was a distinct difference between today and the girl in the above paragraph. The lines were not the same. She was not as tall for one thing, but it was the way her lines appeared from the back. They actually resembled an image of Daria that closed an entry some months ago. Explaining the way she looked is a virtual impossibility, to be honest, so I don’t really know how to proceed in such a vein. The critical point, though, is the fact that my desperate need to see her more closely drove me to run into the office and grab the glasses so I could magnify her before she disappeared around the corner. I’ve gone to some lengths to see a special form in the past, but nothing can compare to my insane need to see more detail. Insane is the proper word, too. Believe me. I was out of my mind for two reasons. One is the fact that she was that striking and completely aligned with my dreams, and the other was a deep-seated fear that she might have moved out of my field of view before I had a chance to gaze. That is fucking bad, people. Bad. I was able to garner the ideal view for a few seconds, and then did not know what to do. I went back to the garage mumbling to myself the entire way and wondering how I turned out so fucking distorted. The project fell away from my attention and all I could think about was the image of those lines, all ideally formed and elusive. I will see her again at some point, especially considering the weather will eventually warm further and the neighborhood will be more active as a result. I don’t know what to think anymore. I’ve been trying to understand how I became so desperate and writing on this machine for hours, yet I feel no closer to anything helpful. I just don’t fucking get it. The time is now 2115 and I have my last half-drink before going to be in a little while. My brain is so tired after today. Thank Christ tomorrow is Monday and I have all the time in the world to think.

All I can do is keep trying.

Tomorrow morning will be nice. I’ll have the typical early business and then the day will open for me to do whatever seems most important (this shit). God damn, today was a tough one and created more dire questions inside than I can handle right now. Could that entry from seventeen have skewed my sense of reality? Or did it perhaps worsen everything because rather than keeping my feelings inside I vocalized them? I’m doing that right now, actually, so I believe the former is much more likely. My reality is pretty far off the line I used to live. Truncated, for sure. I think the difficulty during the last two mornings will be suppressed somewhat tomorrow due to this analysis. The relationship between today and the aforementioned trouble is not something I need to explore on the site. I’ve already studied the topic and solved it. I am looking forward to the morning. Sitting here with coffee and my show is very nice. I can’t say enough about this control center and office. I love it.

‘Trust me. This world is filled with things we will never understand.’ God bless you, Lafayette.

It’s almost time for me to rest. The evening has been productive on the site, yet at the same time it has not advanced one iota. I still don’t fucking get it.

Wow. The time on my little clock is now 2202 and I am still sitting here. That is a clear indication that my search has never felt more dire. I need to know, damn it. I fucking need to know why my brain developed in such a manner. There are many life questions in my head. This entry has posed the most important.



16


0742 on Monday morning. My head is already sideways.

I really went into the subject of desperation last night. The fact remains that I know I am fucked up and in need of help, hence this continuing analysis. Moreover, each day passing finds me more desperate to see and connect to what I desire. I believe that is why the girl yesterday sent me so far into the sky. She was ideal, to be honest, and came along at a time when everything that drives me has become heightened to a great degree. I need some fucking answers very soon. I want to employ that old adage of ‘I will not be responsible for my actions’, yet that never works. Oh, it sounds good in the beginning when a person is really upset, but the reality is we are all responsible for whatever we choose. Anger is one of those emotions I can do nothing about right now. This morning has not started on a positive note. I hope I can improve upon it.

Monday is typically one of my best days because of the memories of work. I used to have lots of difficulty wrapping my head about the idea of heading into uncomfortable territory and laboring all day. Sometimes work wasn’t too bad, though, and we often tried to schedule Mondays with a light touch to ease into the week. Heh. I still don’t miss being out there among society. Sitting here right now represents a dream. I see others heading out and I only have to go shopping. My time, as always, is my own. This morning I am having trouble, however. Lots of trouble. There are too many images in my head right now and nothing I do seems to cause them to fade enough to think straight. The girl yesterday really sent my brain in bad directions. I feel more desperate than ever. I will go through the motions without a hitch. I have to.

I keep thinking about the damaging dreams and how they changed my feelings for a person. I went from a passing fancy to full-blown deep desire in the space of one fucking night. Maybe I never aged on the inside because this is just what happened when I was young. This is isolated from the other one now, too. Isolated. Different. When I saw the lines yesterday my brain detached from everything in existence except for how bad I needed her. I still feel that need as I sit here typing. This is going to make me angry. I have to try to learn like yesterday. All that exposition, you know? Perhaps it went nowhere, but at least I tried.

Whatever developed inside me may have been a hybrid, actually. More than one need or interest combined to drive me out of my mind. Obviously, I know all that has taken place throughout the last twelve years since moving to the coast. The obsession came with me but remained in the shadows because I couldn’t really define it. There had been a situation prior to me moving here that was difficult at times and then more recently it repeated. Eventually, I lost my fucking mind and began to write about it, although my words were severely truncated and cut short all the time by massive amounts of anger. After my time with the Raven, shit came to a head and I lost it all over again. I can’t really go into specifics, however. Just know that I know, ok? Good. Onward. My head quite often goes back in time to those wondrous and beautiful situations of the past, and then I become very upset because they are gone (and I am probably too far gone for a repeat of any type). The number of actual, real understanding souls can be counted on less than ten fingers. They may as well have never existed because whatever began to develop during the mid to late zeros and was subsequently tightened greatly in the last six or seven years drives me to need them more than ever in my life. They are gone. As I stated above, I may know half of the problem right now. What I may never know is how it became attached to another fucking problem. I can’t speak to anyone. I can’t do anything but sit here. And I can’t seem to find clarity. The girl yesterday catalyzed every stitch of desire and formed an entirely new vat of desperation. I can’t remember the last time I felt so much desire. Maybe the woman in the market last week. I don’t know. This is all such a mess. There are a few key facts that I must avoid and it bothers me. I need to speak with someone. That may never be possible.

Maybe I turned out this way due to being exactly where I needed so long ago and the possibility of finding that place again is gone. Maybe time travels backward at the speed of light. Maybe...

0838. I have to go to three different stores today. No big deal. I already know that nothing I may run across out there is going to top yesterday. I’ve already seen the lines of a lifetime and one of the worst, most damaging visions ever to cross my eyesight.

0958 is what I see on the little clock right now. I finished the routine and decided to avoid going over the hill to the big wine store. I changed my mind about being out and about today. Instead, I’ll place an order to be picked up tomorrow. That will keep me from strolling the aisles with a shopping cart and placing myself in danger of falling all over the place due to some errant pair of fucking pants. I plan to drive up to the smoke shop across town and then visit the shopping center down the street on my return trip (or maybe the other way around). When I went to the garage for a break, I set up the camera with its temporary mount just inside the big door on the west side. Right now I am viewing from the east wall of the house all the way across to my neighbor’s master bedroom window. Very nice. There appears to be a delay of roughly two seconds in the feed according to the NIST, however. That is inconsequential to my needs, honestly. The image is in high definition, so if there is any reason that I can’t see out the window, the camera can operate as a supplement. The picture is crystal clear at this moment. Cool. I’ll have to come up with a permanent solution for the mount and line voltage at a later time. And yes, before you ask, I did this in part to see that girl walking by. The system will allow for a ‘head start’ so I can be ready just in case I feel the need to grab the field glasses and further hurt myself. I am so desperate to see her right now that the empty street makes me sad. In other news, the vampires are gracing my right-hand display and I have a fatass cocktail for medicinal purposes. And for posterity as well as reasons of good form, I should point out that I used to be intimately involved with the NIST within two different careers. Now I am a little person sitting and desperately waiting for a beautiful girl to walk by so I can fall down again. What a wonderful turn of life, don’t you think? I am a basket case more than ever.

The alcohol has done its job. And don’t get your shit all in a twist. It’s not what you may think. Leave it.

The weather has turned overcast and very gray. I hope the temperature doesn’t remain low. I don’t have much to do today, though. The aforementioned shopping is pretty much my only responsibility unless I decide to branch out and drive further. That is most unlikely right now, although I can’t be certain until the clock spins further. Sometimes I just need to get the fuck out of here for a little while. And? Sometimes when I see Lizzy on the display I want to kiss her fucking vagina. For an hour, honestly. Or more. There you go. Crucify me, label me, or do whatever you wish. I am nothing more than a tiny speck on this planet and more fucked up than you can possibly imagine. 1038. Pause for the cause.

1206 is on the clock and I am back from shopping. I went with the better plan of visiting the smoke shop in town and then the pharmacy. Now I am all set until tomorrow’s drive to the big wine store. I may venture to the hardware emporium, too, since I’ll be on the other side of the hill. One morsel of information? When I closed the garage door earlier, one of the mounts hit the wood holding my temporary camera setup. That was a lesson. I need to rebuild the fucking thing with more clearance. The drive was uneventful, thank Christ. I have lunch heating and the rest of the day wide open. I may work outside later.

Remember the NIST reference from above? I used to be a whole person. I don’t know what the fuck I am now.

I need to go back to where I was up the page and continue trying to find the beginning of this present shit. I mentioned becoming obsessed with runway models and height, yet that could not have been as much of a catalyst as actually being close to the lines, and I mean right there inches from my eyes. Michelle was helpful in that regard. I ran away with her and we spent some wonderful days together at my expense because I was in dire need of escape, and I quickly learned she was in a similarly reckless frame of mind when we met. Some time later, Michelle agreed to allow me to pose her in any manner I wished. Andrea? Oh, God. She went even further. I’m thinking that those two combined served to skew my head enough to send me into the territory of beginning to worship the beautiful lines. Could that be it? The answer? I yearned for escape in the arms of a beautiful woman, and upon achieving that level of comfort, my head cemented itself within the idea that those situations were the only way for me to find happiness. Hence the desperation, maybe? I don’t know. I am reaching right now.



17


Ok, the time is now 1308 and lunch is out of the way. I placed an order with the big wine store for pickup tomorrow morning. The show has been put on hold in favor of some desperate music for a little while. I also poured a nice, icy glass of orange Goose to help relax my head. Call me whatever you wish. The vodka conjures memories of desperate, reckless times and the state of my mind when I first met Juliette the dream at the bank in Las Vegas. I can still see her standing there behind the teller line looking like a million bucks, and more. Her blouse buttons were strained a bit by a pair of very large, round, dreamy breasts. I had a hell of a time being polite and avoiding staring at her chest within the silk. Her hair was wavy and dark, just like my thoughts. I had no idea at the time, but very soon we would love each other and end up in the middle of a pool of distraught and saddening liquid. Damn. The first week of September this year will mark twenty years since that trip. Anyway, the music shall remain in the background until I decide to work more in the kitchen or garage. The Raven’s favorite song will be coming along in less than an hour. Splendid.

If I could snap my fingers and make the world disappear, we would all have been gone many years ago.

If my obsession with lines began with Michelle, that would mark the year of eleven just after my weeks with Andrea. Or maybe Andrea was the beginning. I can’t recall right now. The way I felt when I saw the girl in the electronics store a while back was pretty fucking powerful. That was different, though. The girl on the street yesterday looked a thousand times more amazing, believe it or not. The electronics store was a temporary thing, as once we were finished shopping and made our purchases, I calculated I would not be seeing that beauty again. Yesterday was closer to home and a shape I’ve seen many times. Until the binoculars, however, I did not know just how much damage her lines were going to cause inside me. I will see her again, too. I live here and she lives right over there. Wonderful. The point of all this is I have worsened since eleven and need to know why. And yes, this shit is a facet of that horrible realization in seventeen. I am beginning to consider Andrea and Michelle symptoms and not causes, but I can’t be sure. The only solid evidence was when I spent time with the Raven four years after being fused to the other two. That woman had what is perhaps the most amazing form of them all. I will say the girl from yesterday rivaled even the Raven, but the latter was seen up close. And I mean VERY close, like mere inches from my desperate eyes. I am still unsure of the cause, even after going over all this shit for days. I need to know, though. I need it like I need my devices to keep me breathing. Believe it.

The girl from yesterday succeeded in pushing the subject of the damaging dreams back for a while. I don’t know how long this will last, but honestly I needed a break from those visions. They were beginning to cause almost as much pain as missing the Raven. I did not ask for this, nor did I ever wish to be in such bad shape.

I took a break to have a cigarette in the garage and realized the cold wind is going to preclude any further work on the camera mount. I have an idea for a method that will probably work well, be plenty solid for a stable image, and clear any moving parts of the garage door, too. The weather being this cool and dry affects me much more than years ago. I suppose that is due to age. I don’t like it. The projects will wait, I guess. Nothing out there is going to change. Warmer weather will be welcomed, and when it arrives I can finish the mural and take care of a few other things that have been dormant this Winter. The funny thing is that this weather is ideal for working in the attic and there is nothing I need to do up there right now. Ugh. I suppose for the time being, I can visit the garage when taking a break, nothing more.

I went all the way back to Shilo for a reason. My mind created her out of need. That need never went away. In fact, the obsession is a similar need, albeit much more powerful. Think about it... Missing pieces begin to manufacture dreams after a time, and can eventually force reality to appear completely inadequate. That is what happened with Shilo. I can only say so much about this, honestly. Too much detail and I will feel exposed like never before. I can’t have that. Just understand that when my head created her, it was out of a need for companionship. The need I have now pushes me into unreal or impossible situations. On very few occasions have I been face to face with the precise level of comfort for which I sought throughout many years. Now that I am all but stuck in this house (a good portion of it being by choice, mind you), the dreamy state that I need has expanded into the real world. The one at the store, the woman the other day with the fucking pants, and the girl on the street yesterday all represent the same idea, that of me being where I need. I honestly believe I will never be able to achieve it in the future. All I see is an image of myself sitting at this table either looking out the window in search of something special or manufacturing the same thing by writing fiction. The entire journey will be laced with alcohol and fraught with sadness. Everything is at a distance. Shilo being created inside my head was only the beginning. I may not understand the reason for becoming so obsessed with lines, but at least I know that after nearly half a century I have not changed. The saddest part of all this is that I am even more desperate now than I was when I dreamed up Shilo. That is just fucking peachy and all covered in roses, don’t you think?

The foggy blue is delicious. I used to drink this stuff by the fucking gallon twenty years ago. Wow. Have I mentioned why I refer to orange Goose as the ‘foggy blue’? Well, when we lived in the trailer all those years back, our freezer was very small and I had to use these little plastic bags to make ice. They were shaped like ovals. So, something to do with the water filtration affected the vodka a few minutes after it was poured over the ice. At first I worried that there was something wrong with the water or the ice bags, but soon learned that it was a harmless chemical reaction between the reverse osmosis and the alcohol content of the vodka. I’d pour a nice glass and carry it to the desk – much the way I do now, allowing time for the booze to chill before sipping – and by the time I lifted the drink, there was a light shade of blue within. Very cool. I’ve been referring to this particular vodka as the ‘foggy blue’ ever since. Pity, though. Right now my glass is completely clear.

Anyway, regarding the girl I saw yesterday, my head is so fucked up and desperate that I keep going over and over images of her in all sorts of positions, and with very specific clothing adapting to her curves. Clothing of my choice, actually. Everything has to be my choice. I am a basket case. I want to find that fucking television show which depicted a certain character going about his needs and eventually being exposed. I can’t go into detail here, though. I’ve been searching for years now. It will be found at some point. Believe me, the thoughts in my head are somewhat related to how he felt about his destiny. Well, that doesn’t mean any of it was good. That’s enough.

I could never be driven to such a state as his. I’d kill myself first.

I need to remove the images of Coral and place someone else here. I don’t want her on the page anymore. So sad. The girl was so beautiful in the show. The lower facial trait, remember?

This man’s voice soars like God’s own eagles. I never should have shared this fucking music with another soul on earth. God damn am I ever regretting doing so. What a fucking idiot. I am not the closed-minded type of person to take issue with anyone’s sexual orientation or gender identity, but I am nowhere near homosexual. That being said, the voice I’m hearing is so beautiful and stirring that under the correct circumstances I would fuck the brains right out of the singer. Just saying. The music is so deeply embedded in my heart that I don’t know another way of getting the point across with any emphasis. There you go. Now what am I? Fuck off. I'd be dead before anyone has a chance to question me, anyway.

1428. This entry is all but worn the hell out.

I have to find the beginning of this and I don’t even know why. Maybe there is some visceral need to understand how I became so fucked in the head. Whatever the case, I don’t get it. I have been obsessing over a few key individuals and cannot go further with the information for very good reasons. I can’t seem to learn why, either. A dream is not going to permanently change the way I think, and that means either I’ve always been this way or something drove my head into the most desperate place ever imagined by human beings.

Whatever the case, I am worsening by the day and the genesis continues to elude."



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