February 28th, 2023 11:09am pst

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.




The Desperation of Seeing

 read ( words)

"Fuck you.

Fuck who, exactly? Assume the target is YOU and run with the information. I don't fucking care anymore. This current period is one in which I have grown to sit here in pain and endlessly analyze, when the truth of the situation is that I DID NOT FUCKING DO THIS TO MYSELF. Read it fifty fucking times and then find a muddy ditch somewhere to end yourself. Or... Yourselves. Either one is fine. I hate everyone and everything. The unfortunate truth, however, is that I am nothing more than a little person with a computer and zero recourse. And yes, such a fact makes me even more angry than everything else in my distorted, broken brain.

0741, Thursday morning. I realized earlier that I did not need the fucking adapters for the new phone. I don’t even know why it became an issue in my brain, unless there was just too much going on for me to consider the details of the charging system. The bottom line is that the new phone has the exact same lightning port at the bottom, meaning there is no need to change ANYTHING with regard to power. Yes, the phone came with a different type of cable, but I don’t even need the fucking thing. Why I didn’t think of this sooner is beyond me. ‘They are necromancers, Eric. They brought a bird back from the dead.’ Wow. What the fuck kind of people are they? Anyway, after spending the evening with the new phone, I realized all is well and I am free to bring the old phone to the store. Well, whenever my car is repaired, that is. For the time being, I have to remain home with my devices and whatnot. The new phone will command some of my attention, as will the office organization. The weather is very cool again.

The distractions of the past days have eased my head with regard to feeling so much desperate desire and yearning for things I cannot achieve. I suppose the new phone and other changes to my little world have pushed a few things to the rear for a while. Something else is different, too, but I can’t spell it out here. Suffice to say, I know why my head flares at certain times. That’s all I can reveal. Anyway, at some point I know all the shit will come rolling down the rails aimed right at me. And then? I’ll fall down and get all pissed off for a while before being able to calm myself. The only thing I can do right now is sit here and wait. Everything is impossible. No one is listening. Nothing good is on the horizon. I have no recourse whatsoever. Moving on.

Aside from my usual stuff today, I’m going to continue in the office in anticipation of the new camera bag arriving at some point.

1103. The routine is finished. I worked in the office a little while ago but still have more to do. I’d like to have everything in order prior to the camera bag being delivered.

Friday. The time is 1143 and I have my daily routine finished as well as lunch in the oven. Prior to tackling the housework, I reorganized the kitchen pantry to make the most common items more accessible and part of an improved layout. The rest of the day will hold zero housework. I need lots of time in front of the IDE. My show is again on the right-hand display keeping me company. The third show ended last night, so I rolled over to the fourth. It will remain in the background during evenings and housework until running its course.

I’ve not written much this week due to being preoccupied by office work and trying to keep the house in order. My efforts in this room have been in support of getting things in order for the new camera bag. I am very much looking forward to receiving that necessary component for my control center. I went through some of the items yesterday and will continue after lunch. The weather is crazy today, so I can’t do much in the garage. The temperature is far too low for my comfort.

1250. Lunch is out of the way. I have some things defrosting for dinner tonight and the next two nights. Very good. There was a bit of a snit over the warranty coverage for my auto repair yesterday, but I believe everything is now ironed out. Waiting to hear from them is not fun, although when it comes to that sort of thing, no news is better than being told the cost will not be covered by the extended warranty. The situation seems to be better now. They informed me that the alternator had to be ordered, so we shall see how the repair plays out.

1601. I took care of more office work and organized some papers for tax season. I’ll head into the kitchen in a little while to prepare some items for dinner tonight, as well as to give it a polish for the evening. I’ve been seeking updated images of the truck so I can continue where I left off with the blog some years ago. The work last year was extensive and I’d like to expand that section of the site.

My brain is blown wide-open, however since there is nothing I can fucking do about it these days, I’ve been trying to remain inside the computer work and other hobbies. The situation is making me angry once again. And what do I possess to deal with this shit? Nothing. No recourse whatsoever. Isn’t that fucking great? I have not seen anything in days, partly due to my car being out of commission and partly due to something I can’t bring up on the site. I’ll just say something is missing right now. Anything further is not a good idea. Not by a damned sight, actually. Anyway, I am hoping to transition into the evening and a nice dinner without flipping my cork because I do not have the power to affect anything else. You should know where the power resides right now. You should already know.

0655 on Saturday morning. My show is on the right-hand display, cats are fed, and I have some nice, hot coffee. This is not going to be the typical Saturday because I’ll be home alone for some hours just like a weekday. Not quite as long, but a while. This is the day that I usually use for more enjoyable tasks or projects rather than the same type of feeling I typically experience during the work week. Saturday just feels more relaxing right out of the gate, much like years ago when I waited all week for a few hours of ‘freedom’. I’d hop to the laundry at near five in the morning, brew coffee, and then sit here in the office with the wireless MDRs keeping me company. Those Saturdays were precious in a different way than today. I don’t know how to explain it very well. The point is today should be enjoyable if I can keep my head out of her pants. Or, um, the other her. Or maybe that one I saw on the street. Or whatever the fuck... I don’t know. I have to try. The office work yesterday has really paid off, so perhaps I can continue the organization in this room with my friends keeping me company. This is not a good morning by any means, but that does not mean I can’t make something of the day ahead.

Either I find the ability to come to terms with this fucking shit or it destroys me. There you go. What a great way to sum up all the writing for the last few months.

I’m going to break away from this for a few days to work on the descriptive essay for the truck. I’ll have to go back several months in my mind to create a timeline for the project since I last made progress. I believe there are a few entries in my truck journal. That is a notepad in which I’ve been trying to record my thoughts and plans for many years. The pad is with all the other materials which support the project. When I am finished in the house, I’ll take a look.

The time is now 1012 and my daily routine is finished. I have a nice, big glass of whiskey next to me on the table. Unfortunately, the morning has been arduous due to my head moving into places better avoided. I can’t fucking help it, though, because those missing pieces continue to haunt me and force their way into whatever I may be doing at a given time. I knew this would happen. The pause in my writing for the past couple of days was due to my head finding relaxation. Now? Everything has returned, including a ton of anger. I don’t know what can be done today in order to alleviate the feelings. Whenever the difficulties are eased, there is an underlying truth that comfort is temporary. This is not good. The days continue to roll by and nothing changes, meaning each issue grows inside me without end. At some point there must be either a positive change or an end. One or the other. There can be no compromise or middle ground with this shit.

The idea to further the long essay about my truck spawned interest in working out there and trying to alleviate little details that have yet to be fixed. The weather is still quite cold, though. Ten minutes in the garage leaves me very uncomfortable and no matter how compelling the truck may be right now, I just can’t spend more time out there.

‘But I got clean in the long run, didn’t I? No more drugs for me... Except the anti-psychotics.’ Awesome.



27

And now the music of life. I will not reveal the artist. You’ll just have to live with it. The combination of alcohol and this song makes me want to pack my shit and haul ass out of here to wherever might seem appealing and comfortable. My car is still at the dealer, so I can’t go anywhere. That hurts me. I need so badly to hit the fucking road and explore places while having no schedule or responsibilities. And I don’t want anyone to know where the hell I am, either. I don’t want any fucking information in others’ heads. Nothing. I am fucking desperate to run right now. Desperate. Think of a camel when it is cornered. I’ll spit, but not in the traditional sense. When I spit, the situation is vastly different and no one likes it. Right now I feel reckless enough to cause massive damage. Due to so much regret floating around in my head these days, the self-protection method of living has kicked in, meaning I shove everything to the rear and just fucking sit on it. I remain bottled up to save my lifestyle. And? I have no money to throw at the problem like in the past. I wish I could be made to understand why things must be this way. Nobody is listening. Not a fucking soul on earth.

Maybe if I become angry enough I will move to the garage, temperature be damned. I just don’t fucking care anymore. Warming myself after the fact is a simple affair. The idea of swinging the harshest of hammers is very appealing at this moment. Maybe. Maybe not. I just don’t know because these days I couldn’t make a fucking clear decision to save my life.

I don’t like leaving the house very often, but at the same time I don’t enjoy being stuck here. My car was always there, just in case. I can’t wait until it is back home and at my disposal.

My biggest problem at this very second is deciding whether or not to pour another drink or maintain my leveled stance this morning. This is not easy.

Damn the weather is cold right now. I took a break in the garage and realized that I probably can’t do anything out there aside from laundry because it’s too uncomfortable. Ten years ago I would have been fine, but alas the aging changes everything. This is just another negative in my ever-growing pile of shit. I freshened up my drink to the halfway point because I need the numbing effect. I did not pour enough to end up out of control, though. The self-preservation instinct is powerful these days, often more than the destructive moods. At some point I will tip over the edge and lash out at the world, and then a little while later go back to feeling small. No matter what I do these days, my inner being does not change. Everything is temporary, as those squareheads might muse. Believe me, though, my anger is most decidedly the reverse of their observations. Just believe it.

I am beginning to feel the same mood as in zero-three when I sat next to the Friday’s service bar and scribed my emotions to a hard check via ballpoint pen. Nothing was served during that period and nothing is being served now. Some of what I wrote while perched on a barstool in that restaurant is in the archives while other aspects remain only in my memory. The Raven’s favorite song just began. Down, down, and further down we go. I love her. Ugh. Maybe I should work in the garage and make a firm statement. Freezing fingers might be worth the effort. Whatever. I am empty, hurting, and unhappy. Nothing can change those facts. I can’t run away, I can’t change anything, and I can’t fix anything from the past. I am full of desperation and regret, two aspects of life which can combine to cause very bad things to happen. I’ve stated many times that this is a bad time. The key phrase is ‘this is a dangerous time’. One of these days I am going to move myself away from reality and damn those who know me personally. I am going to throw everything away in the interest of a few moments of true comfort. Mark my words, I will find the understanding, even if it is a split-second realization just prior to death. No one is listening. Those people care, but they do not hear me and never have.

Where is my fucking camera bag? I’ve received zero information regarding a carrier or ship date. They had better not follow up by stating that it was not in stock at the time of my order or I will inform them of the entirety of my fucking mood. I need that bag, Goddamn it. Help me. And hear this: Now is not the time to derail or otherwise interrupt ANYTHING in life that has the power to bring me even one fucking second of comfort. My arsenal can point toward more targets than my own skull. Read that again, please. I am not happy.

The music has increased in volume. And there is an aspect to hearing loss that many do not seem to understand. With enough power, speaker sensitivity and clarity, even those who are completely deaf will feel it. I might be an idiot, but I do know that sound is nothing more than the brain's interpretation of pressure waves, and if strong enough, they cannot be avoided. Trust me. Science is absolute. Forty years of audio studies, education at three universities and eleven years at NASA have taught me much. Trust the numbers. Trust the power. I have little else these days.

I went to the garage for a cigarette and blasted one song over the mighty audio system. Nothing changed, so here I am in the office. Nothing ever changes, really, aside from my increasing disdain for the world. I really wish I had my car right now, damn it. I need the knowledge that leaving is an option. At least the sun is shining today.

Time is compressed right now. If you don’t understand such a statement, have a drink.

1340. I had some lunch and put a load of laundry in the washer. My mood feels more stable, meaning disaster has been averted today. I am warmer after a shower, too.

0707 on Sunday morning. Coffee, cats fed, show, you know. I have a bit more time this morning prior to any business. If I can keep my head from going sideways, the office time should prove very relaxing. I am very much looking forward to the routine and other Sunday work today. The weather is once again cool and rainy, so I’ll have to remain inside other than a couple of loads of dry cleaning. Much time will be spent in this chair, too. I need to think. Sideways? Not right now. I have to stay in front of that type of mood or my depression will flare badly.

I have not seen anything difficult in several days. The girl with the most amazing lines was out there recently, yet in this weather her clothing has been very different, effectively sparing me the anger which normally accompanies my dire need to see everything. Nothing comes of the overpowering desire, so I lash out toward whatever direction feels appropriate. She’s been out there a few times and I knew what was going on at the time, but the clothing took all the crap away and helped me ignore the situation. I avoided becoming upset over her. As for the other one, well, I can’t comment too much, but let’s just say things have been a bit different this week and leave it at that. The last time I saw her my head nearly came apart. Nothing has happened since then, thankfully. As much as I need to see her, part of me always knows that the end result will remain unchanged, meaning I’ll be unhappy and desperate to see everything up close. And then the anger will take over because there is no other way for me to deal with shit these days. I really don’t want that type of thing on my Sunday. Vigilance is the word, I guess.

Jesus holy hell does Jessica have some chiclets. Wow.

I think I’m going to work in the office more today. Once my quiet time begins, I’ll stay in this room and go through some things that have been idle for years. That’s what I did in the garage last week and the storage ended up much improved, plus I am aware of where certain things are actually residing, just in case we want something. I have been chipping away at the large storage issue for a couple of months and am seeing improvement. The process should continue until I am satisfied with the results. The dining room and kitchen have also benefited from reorganization. Since I have all the time in the world, I may as well work on large projects a little each day. I hope my camera bag arrives soon, too. Not a word from that place. Maybe it’s time to send an inquiry.

Done.



28

0810. I’ve not gone off the deep end this morning, thank the maker. I don’t need any imperial entanglements these days because there has been enough of that shit throughout the past year for a lifetime. Believe me when I say that the memories and imagery do not leave. EVER. All I can do is push back and hope for the best possible day. And? Nora, coming soon to a screen near me. Oy, mama... I love her so much.

I suppose all I can do when the feelings begin to overtake my sense of comportment is to try finding whatever comfort might be available at the time. The time is merely 0831 right now and I’ve already been tried to the nth degree inside. Right on the heels of averting disaster was the beautiful Nora and her indescribable gait. I could watch this episode over and over for the rest of my life. She doesn’t hurt me, but the rest does. All of the memories – both near and far past – and those visions with which I don’t know what to do. I keep seeing them over and over and fucking over again, falling all over myself and desperately needing someone there to understand, yet the only aspect of life that seems to change is the calendar. Well, my desperate desire to be where I so badly need continues to increase, so I suppose that represents change. In a manner of speaking, anyway. Nothing positive, of course, but a change nonetheless. I don’t like this crap. I wish there was a way to forget everything. Even an hour of peace without the need to push really hard would be nice. I need some fucking peace, damn it. I need to see, as well, yet today I’ll settle for peace. Comfort can be forced sometimes. Perhaps I’ll force it later.

I remember stating how bad my condition had been during the beginning of the pandemic, and shortly thereafter feeling that it was worsening by the week. Right now I honestly wish I could go back to feeling that way because my present state is far worse. Shortly after writing about a fictional machine I had created, I began to realize that I was so fucked up in the head that a machine would be the only way someone could deal with my personality. I still feel that way, honestly, yet the current circumstance inside my brain took a left turn last year and there seems to be no going back. A machine would still be nice, though. At least there would be no thinking or anything like that because she would not have the ability to freely do anything thanks to software. The truth of the present is that dreaming of the ideal partner as being impossible now feels like a fucking cake walk when held against the sheer power of my desperate desire. I didn’t know three years ago that my head was going to become so miserable and full of an unrelenting yearning. I knew my situation was messed up then, but little did I know that a far more difficult situation was on the horizon. Just think of my condition three more years into the future. Will I even BE here? Think of this: I am sitting here typing and performing other simple operations on the computer, most often with some media streaming on one display, and every few seconds something pops into my brain and causes me to stop for a moment and try to recall where my head was just prior to the interruption. Every few seconds, people. And this applies to much more than when I am at the control center. Dishes, sweeping, some garbage work, projects... They all become halted at some point due to my desperate needs. Just fucking think about that for a moment. Let it burn-in real good. This has been each day since the middle of last year or so. Three years back I was all fucked up. What am I now? ‘You make the call’.

Time for a break. The clocks indicate 0918. I’ll have to get out of this chair. A couple of hours in the morning including breaks is about all I can do unless my train of thought stretches further than usual.

And now here I am half an hour later with the first step of the Sunday business out of the way, along with a bit of garbage work. Since my sideways fucking brain does not want to let up this morning, I poured a nice, big glass of whiskey to calm the nerves. There will be an hour or so of preparation before I have the house to myself, after which I shall finish the routine and hit the dry cleaning. I’m not going to spend much time in the garage, though. The weather is again very cool and breezy. The living space inside the house is much more comfortable. I’ll tell you one thing, too. Once spring begins and the temperature inside the house rises beyond what I used to think of as comfortable, I will most decidedly not complain. Right now it’s difficult to imagine wearing shorts. Heh. Anyway, I should be in decent shape during the daylight hours today. There is not much work, so I can focus upon the organization again. As long as my head does not heel over too badly, the hours may prove very productive without difficulty.

1153. The dishes are drip-drying as is my custom of late. I still have the garbage work ahead, although the chore will require mere moments to accomplish. My ambition is waning right now. Even though I took care of a few things, the feeling inside is one of emptiness. I may have to have a bit of the foggy blue along with music to help me relax. Today has me wondering just how bad this situation may become over time. Thinking in such terms is a clear indication that I am already heeled over and any words to the contrary are merely hopeful.

And now the music of life along with a SECOND cocktail for posterity. The foggy blue is next to me looking all icy and yummy. Well, really it is due to my head being crooked right now. My work for the day shall come and go as it always does, and in the meantime I need to drown myself in the feeling that there are possibilities ahead in life. The alternative is not good, especially considering my neighbors across the street are set up for their child’s birthday, complete with an outdoor tent and bounce house. The weather is changeable right now, too. I believe they’ve planned for the rain, though, as their yard is replete with coverings and heat sources. That’s really cool. I never had the ability to produce children. The chemistry of my body was destroyed more than forty years ago and I am reminded of that fact every fucking day. Hence? Half my mood at any given time is toward such an end. Today is going to amount to very little, I believe. The reasons for pushing further than I usually do are either absent or otherwise unimportant these days. The music is going to drive my head to a place of relaxation and introspection. That is its purpose lately. Disaster has been averted.

Look at the images. She is stunning and carries (almost) everything of which I dream every fucking day. She may as well not exist, though, because I have already been wrapped around a woman of similar appearance and dimensions. I guess that happens but once in life for someone like me. Never me. Just... Never me, as Carlito said. What a wonderful thought. I will admit that a portion of my nature is due to such images. There is no getting around that fact. I have been affected by others. I have also had a hand in ruining myself. So, tell me... What should I have done rather than gazing at images of impossibility? Should I have embraced reality and sat here like everyone else? Should I have done something else? Write your answers on a piece of paper, set it on fire, and shove it in your stupid ass. The images shall continue in perpetuity.

‘Maybe I kill myself slowly because I don’t have the courage to do it quickly.’

1241. I will take care of the garbage and put the dishes away in a little while. I folded the laundry from yesterday so the dryer is free for the other cleaning. I will finish that, too. I will finish everything in time for a nice, quiet evening in front of my media of choice and more alcohol. I will rise tomorrow and do all of this over again, save for the trash. Jesus fucking Christ is this vodka ever delicious. The flavor reminds me of the reckless period in zero-three when I ran away for a week to find... Something. I suppose I needed it but went about the process entirely wrong. I did not know at the time, but believe me, I know it now. The damage of twenty-eleven was far worse, yet there was an element of the previous recklessness which was no longer present. Good or bad, those are the facts. The vodka makes me yearn for flight mode from the days in the apartment when I gazed at the hills and dreamed of a life so different that no one else could begin to understand my mindset. Well, my nephew did, but he was very young and had many more options than myself. Flight mode has been utilized in the past and continues to follow me through every minute of every day, even now. I suppose part of my frustration can be chalked up to the dire need to get the hell out of here and beyond anyone’s reach, while experiencing the simultaneous feeling that I cannot go anywhere. The Raven’s song is coming up soon. Splendid. I no longer avoid it, however, because being reminded of that most understanding and deviant of goddesses brings me hope that there can be someone similar in the future. It also brings the hope that I can be saved. Sitting here right now has conjured everything in this paragraph along with the knowledge that I have plenty of time to finish the Sunday business. The house will be in good order by the evening as long as I don’t commit suicide.



29

Ah... Her song just began to play. That day... THAT FUCKING DAY WAS THE LAST TIME WE SHARED SUCH A MOMENT. Just saying. The point is that I miss the Raven more at this very moment than I have in many years. I needed Her and She needed me. That was the most driving, compelling, beautiful and hellish period of my entire life. I will never love another human being as much or in the same way. Hmm... Maybe I am already dead.

I think the party across the street is beginning and the rain is blowing sideways. God bless them for planning and defying the weather. Awesome. I used to do the same thing. Now I just sit in this house and lament all that is gone. Splendid. Marvelous. Someone please shoot me in the neck right now and save anyone reading the site from more bullshit in the future.

I am powerless, weak, and sans hope. I am a tiny person at a keyboard; nothing of note. I have never been of note. I’ve been featured in documentaries aplenty that spanned from the US to Britain and Japan. I’ve been on the television news. I’ve been interviewed on the local radio news station. I’ve been involved with research that helped to shape the future of spacecraft design and the process of capturing stellar material and returning it to the earth for study. All of that? Still nothing more than a little soul sitting here trying to understand myself. I am small and weak. I am in dire circumstances. I am no one at all. From my birth to this very second, everything I have accomplished is meaningless. All anyone will remember are those times when I made bad decisions and wronged others.

I guess I’ll just keep doing the laundry and other housework. If the universe had a hole, I’d fuck the shit out of it, yet the universe would not notice. Laugh it up.

1328. At some point I will continue the Sunday work, but not right now. My head is heeled over to a dramatic degree and I must embrace the dark feelings while they are fresh. The music of life is still blasting from the computer speakers like there is no tomorrow. This is a process normally reserved for the garage, however the temperature is too low and the wind far too strong for me to spend any amount of time out there. My age is such that I have to keep warm for fear of becoming ill. That is a very sad state of affairs, let me tell you. I saw the weather radar a few minutes ago and the colorful pattern displayed off the coast and heading my way seems to have arrived. I hope the party at the neighbor’s house goes on unimpeded. Wow... The rain is blowing at a hell of an angle right now. Such a situation is actually quite enjoyable, to be honest. I am sitting at the table and gazing out the window toward the extreme weather and with ‘forest’ music blasting, all the while enjoying the warmth of the interior. Sometimes I wish I still had my truck from late zero-one. That machine could be driven into almost any fucked up weather and power through it as if the world bowed to the power of the engine. The passage of time is the worst aspect of our existence. Humans refer to the passage of time as a ‘truism’, but I call it damning. Nothing is worse than the clock’s cold detachment from the plight of temporary life. The shimmering crystal within my phase-locked system of frequency recognition that regulated time down to just a handful of parts per million was the epitome of uncaring. I loved it nearly three decades ago. Now I hate it. The clock now displays 1343. I need to finalize a few items before becoming completely disillusioned. Eh... Perhaps I will await the ending of this track along with its companion. Eighteen minutes is nothing within the grand scheme of life, nor can it be of consequence to the seemingly endless progression of events, otherwise defined as ‘time’.

0654 on a cloudy Monday morning. Yesterday did not go as I had hoped. At least the work was completed and the evening turned into some relaxation. For today, my plan is to remain parked in front of this machine for hours. Ah, God... There Nora’s gait again. Fuck. Anyway, I really need the alone time later this morning because my head has already gone sideways and turned to complete shit. Not good. Whatever the hell happened last year – and I am not referring to the condition brought forth by the damaging dreams – has taken a ‘set’ and there may be nothing I can do about it. The issue represents one less reason to do anything at all, honestly.

0802 and I have my second cup of coffee. The office is as welcoming as I had hoped, too. The plan is to relax at this terminal for a while before I begin my daily routine. That may seem typical, yet today I have more than the usual typing and vacillating. I need to interface with the laptop to edit some images and create a few others. Once the work on the laptop is complete, I can transfer everything to the control center and do some rebuilding on the site. I’ve been flirting with this idea for months, to be honest. I just didn’t have the power of the desktop computer to facilitate and ease the work. Other than the site, I’ll continue the process of minimizing the crap in this office and organize the kitchen and dining rooms some more. This day should be very mellow. The weather is once again crazy, too. Wind and rain, on and off for most of the day. That means nothing will advance in the garage today.

I’ve been recalling a situation from some years ago that is beginning to depress the hell out of me. It is another facet of life which is likely gone for good, and the more I think about it, the more I am concerned that my possible future happiness is diminishing with each passing day. The options have been narrowed to the point of leaving me with very little hope. Wow, the rain is going sideways again. Lots of wind, too. I’m glad I don’t need to go anywhere, although without my car, I wouldn’t be leaving the house anyway. I’m going to remain in the office for a while and just watch the craziness outside. I have plenty to do inside the house. Now, where was I? Ah... The memory of that wondrous, stirring situation. There are actually many more than just the one, but I can only stretch my mind so far without losing it, and the hour is still early. I don’t want to be all fucked up prior to doing my housework. Holy shit... Lightning and thunder. Sometimes memories are heartwarming, like the glow and related family gatherings from that period, whereas others can be hurtful and tend to leave me very down. I’ve been trying to avoid dwelling upon some of those past situations lately, yet the power of recollection takes over more often than not. This is not easy. All I have are words.

I finally heard back from the camera bag supplier this morning. The item has indeed been shipped, yet also delayed by weather. That is not surprising, and at least now I know the bag is on the way to me. Very good. As I said before, the bag will represent another facet of my recent efforts at organization, plus it will carry supplies in case of an emergency. I am really going to enjoy moving everything to the new control center addition and will probably reconfigure the storage a few times before settling upon an optimum setup. In the meantime, I can consider everything that will be stored within and work in the office toward such an end.

Disaster.

1053. My daily routine is complete and I have hours ahead to do whatever seems best. Or, maybe nothing other than sitting right here at the control center. I called to pay the invoice for the race this year and interfaced with the car dealership once more. I am hoping that the coverage plan works out this time. The service department informed me this morning that the warranty company had no record of my coverage. I believe the issue is the name because both our names are on the car, whereas only mine is on the warranty. The account at the dealer is only in her name. The whole thing is goofy, but simple. I am certain once all of the information is straightened out, the repair will be performed at very little cost to me; likely just the deductible. That is much better than a repair bill north of a grand. Ugh. Anyway, the service people should find everything in order now that I’ve clarified the warranty information. Once I have confirmation that the company will cover the repair, this day will become much more comfortable. I also called the raceway to pay the invoice for our event tickets coming this summer. You know... The place where I saw the race girl. Remember? I do. I can still see her unique face looking back at me as my brain melted. Jesus.

For the time being, I am going to sit here on my sorry ass and write while my extended family keeps me company on the right-hand display. My requisite daily cocktail is sitting on the table. I honestly cannot find a reason to change my morning ‘system’. Very little that I do on a given day is good for me – physically, mentally, emotionally or otherwise – but like I used to tell the doctor during my yearly physical, now is not the time for me to cease anything which provides me with a measure of comfort. The video media, my morning drink, and being in control of the atmosphere inside this little house are supporting my ability to remain upright these days.



30

What happened to the topic of the title? I don’t know. One possibility is that I’ve been stuck at home for nearly two weeks because of the car being laid up. When I remain here, the only chance of a vision is whatever may pass my window, and considering the weather lately, there hasn’t been anything of note for days. When I don’t see, the obsession does not flare. I am still overly desperate to see what I need, yet remaining here in the house all the time minimizes my field of view. I don’t know if this is a good situation or not. There are positives present right now, one being the camera bag and the other being my control center and the comfort it can provide. The likelihood of anything crossing my vision is very low. I don’t mind even when I am desperate to see her (or the other her, or something else, or whatever). The time is now 1158.

The time is no longer 1158.

I haven’t done much today since finishing my daily work earlier. Sometimes by the time I roll through the weekend and complete everything to which I set out, Monday becomes a rest period. Today is such a day. My camera bag made it all the way to a hub across the bay. Very nice. And I have not heard anything from the dealership since the issue with the name on the warranty this morning. I am hoping that everything has been ironed out and the repair is proceeding. Nearly two weeks without my car means I am beginning to feel as if I’m in a cell. I may not be able to go very far from home, but the vehicle still represents a type of freedom. I need it back here and at my disposal.

There has been no sight of her for quite some time, nor have I seen the other one. I am absolutely desperate to see them again; field glasses are at the ready. Jessica’s chiclets are very apparent in this scene. Anyway, the point of this is once I spied her through the field glasses, everything changed, both from a standpoint of detail as well as my mental condition. At least I know about it. Maybe this is the basement. Oh, Nora. Hold me... PLEASE. I don’t even know what the fuck I am attempting to do here anymore. What a maroon. Ah... A quote from one of the great unrequited loves of my life, the beautiful Nora:

“As we say in Surrey, sod the fuck off you cunting twat!” – Nora Gainesborough

Nora is one of the ‘big three’ that has come about during the last three years. Interesting. She is only on the television, but that means I get to see and appreciate her for all time. Oh, shit. I just saw the girl for three seconds. Damn. Anyway, the rule of life these days has not been mentioned much in a year. Believe me, though, the name is in my head every fucking day whether or not one of the three has been on my televisions or if I’ve seen anything of note out the window. She is always in my heart and I’ve gone on pledging my love and adoration plenty long enough to get the fucking sordid point across. And speaking of sordid, I just added Nora’s words of disdain to the main site footer. Lovely.

Here I am yet again, the time is 0654 on Tuesday morning and I have coffee and my show. The cats are fed. The early business is coming very soon to the clock, after which I will be very comfortable sitting right here at my table. Yesterday morning turned out to be awful. I need to make today better.

0756 is what I see on the clock right now. The early stuff is out of the way and I have the day to myself. This may or may not go the way I am hoping, but that is rarely up to me anymore. Look at yesterday, for example. I was riding a slight wave and embraced some little positives, only to be floored by the inside of my head for the trillionth time. And then? Shit went bad and I stopped caring about the remainder of my hours alone. Everything stopped. Holy God do I ever need her to hold me and make it all go away. Ugh. Anyway, I am not going to follow the same path as yesterday. Not if I can create the effort to keep those down feelings at bay, anyway. I am not expecting anything wonderful other than my camera bag or perhaps a decent lunch, either. Nothing good is on the horizon. I have only the quiet and my thoughts. The morning has as of yet been completely under my control. It must be maintained or I’ll flip the fuck out. I can’t have a repeat of yesterday.

I know I lost the subject again but none of that seems to push me this morning. I still feel a deep desire to see her and all that other shit, yet for the time being I’ve not been inclined to gush any further. My desperate need to explore everything inside her clothing must be kept at bay or something very bad will result from my thinking processes. I really do not like situations which are without options, nor am I fond of dead-ends. Believe me, this is one of them. I was there, now I am sans possibilities. The more I think about those periods, the more upset I become about the gradient. The current situation is completely unacceptable, yet what fucking choice do I have? That’s right... Nada. I am still nothing more than a tiny person with a keyboard. The more I try to describe the level of my desperate desire growing inside me, the more I am affected when I gaze upon actual beauty. And her? That is worse. The titles of these entries are going to continue to be lost among whatever else happens to occupy my mind. Two days ago I was deeply affected upon seeing the ‘filmed in Panavision’ logo after some film credits crawled up the screen. Just prior to that the issue was how much my dad accomplished after being thrown to the curb in seventy-five when the Peterbilt assembly plant dumped its entire workforce with little notice. Before that? I went on a tirade about audio equalization and some related information that seems to float around my head sometimes. You know... All that technical shit about which no one gives half a fuck. Just me. In and around all the other distractions is the main point of being so obsessed with certain aspects of beauty and that fucking horrible problem that grew from the damaging dreams last year. The topics will waver regardless of my intentions.

I don’t want to get into one of the most likely causes of my desperation. There was a bit of a realization recently, but it is not something that I wish to discuss. I’m certain the issue is a part of all this shit, too. No aspect of this topic has been revealed to another human being since that fateful conversation with the doll. At least I may have found one answer. Better than nothing, yet still pretty fucked up.

0831. My routine will not take very long today. I’ll work in the office again and, like yesterday, the garage will be out of the question other than laundry. The news earlier reported that most temperatures in the Bay Area have been upwards of fifteen degrees below average for this month. Not good. I’ll work on the laundry and my remaining time will be spent indoors. There is plenty I can accomplish toward the goal of having the new camera bag in order. Moreover, I’ve been looking at the floors and little spots here and there that require some attention. In and around the laundry and whatever else seems best, I’ll care for the floors.

1034. The daily stuff is finished and the laundry is on its second round. I’ll have to bring the items which typically hang in the garage to the bathroom so they can dry more quickly. The furnace helps, and thanks to the weather being so cool, and lately it has been heating the house on and off all day. I’d prefer to leave it off, but after a discussion between being uncomfortable and paying a higher utility bill, we decided comfort must come first. I’ve been wearing a pullover fleece during the daylight hours since December. Damn. Anyway, my new bag is slated to arrive sometime during the next few hours and I am really looking forward to breaking out all my stuff to get it in good order. I also have a small emergency bag that needs to be reconfigured. Maybe prior to the bag arriving, I’ll straighten the office a bit so there is ample room for the work. To my right is the requisite cocktail just below my program on the display. The value of this office cannot be overstated right now.

When the weather warms and there is more abundant sunshine, I need to embrace the camera again. I need to be ‘in the lens’, as it were. I haven’t done much shooting since all that closeup photography last year when I was fascinated by the colors and detail of the models I had been building. I keep the camera safe and clean, so there are no worries about it having any issues, but at the same time, sometimes I worry over it sitting for long periods without any actuations. Back when I fucked up one of my lenses, I sent it to a repair shop in the Midwest, after which I paid a hefty tab and received what was essentially a brand new lens. I have no doubt that they could perform a full cleaning service on my camera body for much less money. Maybe when all is said and done with the new bag, I’ll box the body and send it to them for a tune-up. I need to know that I can count on that machine should I wish to further explore my favorite hobby.

What does all that have to do with the title? Nothing, because I am trying to keep my head out of the nether regions of those examples of the highest order of art on the earth. As I sit here right now, my head and heart remain fractured and I am desperate to gaze upon her (or that other her) and I feel more desire than can be easily explained. Sometimes I have to waver from the topics of beauty and desire for no other reason than to remain living. Period.

End of fucking line."



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