The Desperation of Memory Mature content No. 363 Published March 3rd, 2023 4:39pm pst read ( words) Past entries "‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ I love it. 1300 straight up. Laundry is finished and lunch is out of the way. I called to check on the car and apparently they are still waiting on some information from the warranty company. Unbelievable. Sometimes I say no news is good news, but I am beginning to feel a bit impatient with the coverage. This situation with the repair should be very straightforward. The dealership is doing its best to communicate with me, too. I will probably hear from them this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Today marks two weeks without my vehicle of freedom, damn it. Hopefully by tomorrow everything will be fine because I need the car here and at my disposal. In the meantime, I am hoping to see the camera bag arrive on the porch. I could use a distraction. One huge plus right now is that the new phone is everything I had hoped, and more. The battery life is incredible, as is the speed of the processor. Gone are the network issues I experienced with its predecessor. Any positives these days go a long way to helping me remain even-keeled, and the phone is definitely far up the list. Holy crap is Nora ever beautifully unique. Damn. I may head into the kitchen in a while and prepare dinner beforehand, only to heat it this evening. Once business hours are over, I like to relax on the sofa with a drink and watch one of my shows on the television. The cold weather lately finds me in need of cozy warmth at night, and if I get everything together prior to that time, I can more easily time the dinner and spend more of my evening off my feet. For whatever reason, I seem to be more motivated toward earlier kitchen work rather than after dark. Today could be ideal for such a method. Moreover, I can have my friends keeping me company the entire time. They are more important than ever. I am still waiting for the camera bag, too. When it arrives, I’ll have a project for both today and tomorrow. I am looking forward to seeing it almost as much as I desire seeing her again. Ugh. There is another Jamie who appears in a handful of episodes of this program. She has three key features that drive me fucking nuts sometimes. God damn would I ever love to climb into her shirt. Oh, and here is one of my favorite scenes. Russell is a supremely evil sonuvabitch, but still a badass villain and an incredible character. 1655. So, I finished most of the dinner preparations and have everything ready to cook later. That means my evening will be more relaxing. Nice. I also cleaned up after the kitchen work. I want to kiss Nora so bad sometimes. Jesus crap and everything else, she is amazing. Ugh. Whatever. Anyway, I mentioned doing some work for dinner in order to free my evening a bit because it is important these days. Just like mornings, I need to have a certain repeatable comfort for a while or I don’t feel well inside. Working in the kitchen is still as appealing as it was two-plus years ago, as well, so when I’m in there doing whatever and my friends are keeping me company, a familiar solace washes over me. To call me a creature of habit is a gross understatement. This is what being home for nearly three years has done to me after almost a decade of dreaming of such a situation. I still have plenty of unresolvable issues, yet the comfort of being here helps. In the beginning and just after I installed the television in the kitchen, much of the wonder was following along with my favorite stories while cleaning. Prior to the television, my typical method was to don the wireless MDRs or blast music from the office. I have to say that the feeling of being in the kitchen while watching my friends as they go on adventures is unequaled in my history. Another push is the fact that I first began to embrace music while cleaning way back when I lived in the Midwest. That was my D-555 coupled with the mighty V6s. I began to use the music to keep me company that far back. Now I am so deep in the fantasy of my television shows that there is no going back. And to wrap the opening of this paragraph to its close, my morning quiet time at the computer and the evening on the sofa are nearly as critical to my survival. Jolaimora. The name of the condition. Believe it. Reality is no longer acceptable, nor does it hold enough sway to keep me alive. 0736 on Wednesday morning. Today is the first of March. That means we will be switching to daylight saving time soon. No, not ‘savings’ time. ‘Saving’. I am at the control center for the duration this morning. Ordering some staples may be on the schedule today, plus a bit more office work and my typical stuff. I have much thinking to do on this day because I really surprised myself yesterday afternoon and again this morning with the way I dealt with an issue that seems to be growing in importance. I have to think, period. I believe if I run the fourth show in the background as I work in the house today, my head might relax enough to better understand everything. I just caught a glimpse of the morsel. Damn. I am a basket case. 1035. My routine is finished and I have a fatass cocktail sitting to my right just below the vampire program. One interesting item today is that I placed an order to be delivered from the market. Since my car is still in the hospital, I wanted to grab a few staples and the first delivery is free, plus I had a code for twenty dollars off. That’s pretty good. Once the car is back, I will not need to order things to be delivered, but on this occasion there are some products that are required for daily meals and such. I may also order from the big-box store that is not far from the airport. That would be fantastic and save us a trip. Again, the first delivery is free. Not bad. There is something wrong with my left knee – the very same that I injured many years ago – and the feeling is that I need to remain off my feet for some hours today. Since my daily stuff is finished, I have the hours ahead to myself, and that means I can take it easy if necessary. Holy Christ is Nora ever beautiful... More every time I see her. Fuck. And? Lilith is disgusting and gorgeous at the same time. Don’t ask. Anyway, I’d like to tool around with the camera bag today, as well as care for some things that have been dormant, yet my knee might keep me immobile for quite some time. The upside is my schedule is completely under my control, as is the atmosphere inside the house nearly all of the time. I really need this quiet time today, both due to my fucked up knee and the memories in my head. Jessica’s chiclets are apparent. I love the chicles, yet have no idea of why, much like many other fascinations in life. Where was I? Ah... Being home today is very important for my peace of mind. I have the time and space to do whatever seems best or therapeutic. At 1107 – just a moment ago – I switched from the video media to the music of life. My mood is all over the map today. The morning drink is gone, too. I don’t know what that means aside from the fact that I miss the little sipper, but a second drink before evening is probably not a good idea. Supporting that statement is my messed up knee. Having another cocktail could find me reckless and I may further inflame whatever is going on. I can’t have that right now. Water is the path. This music always causes me to recall my time with Her and those emotional conversations we shared. It also brings back thoughts of escape and the wonder of exploring unknown places (albeit very comfortable settings, for sure). Throughout the past three years I have crafted a place to live that aligns with long periods of toil and dreaming of being free of such environments. Some of my visions were so harsh that no one, not even the Raven, agreed to such living conditions. I remember all the way back when I worked at the parts house and gazed at necessary components for a long, arduous and risky journey to the north. I used to calculate what I would need for such a trip and made plans for routes and whatnot. I wanted to escape from the doldrums of work and residing within an apathetic society, eventually leading me to believe that the only way to find a peaceful destination was to head for places that typical humans did not consider comfortable, but I was willing. And though I made my escape a few times and ran to what I needed, none of those trips were along the lines of what I had dreamed during the mid-nineties. I visited big cities within which I could disappear due to not knowing anyone, save for whatever beautiful soul was along for the ride. The last potential effort was during fifteen when the Raven and I nearly took off for the foothills out of a desperate desire to leave Bay Area society behind. That journey never took place, obviously, but the thought was very enticing at the time. Christ knows where I would be right now had we actually left town. I listen to these compositions and recall each occasion when I had become completely disillusioned and yearned for simplicity and solace. The music also pushes me to drink more than usual. Why? Because I am unhappy, depressed, and desperate to either relive those times or create new ones. Most of the reason I avoid speaking with others about my feelings is out of fear. No, not the damaging dreams and the mass of desire they have created, but the fear of being placated. I simply cannot accept a person trivializing my depression or emotional condition. This is why everything remains bottled up and closed off to the world. Many years ago I feared not being taken seriously, and such a state is still apparent. It is another contributing factor in me remaining completely closed off. The keyboard does not judge me or dismiss anything I feel or have to say. I just keep typing. One of the biggest factors in how I live out my days right now is the idea that I am so fucking different from a few years ago. I look out the window and cannot begin to understand a ‘typical’ lifestyle. I see others out there driving to and from work, taking their dogs for a walk, or engaging in some other behavior and all of it is now alien to me. All I do is stay inside and avoid everything, save for the occasional shopping trips. If I am alone all the time, I need not worry about what another person may think of me. I have effectively dumped ninety-five percent of my previous way of life. Put another way, let me tell you that since the beginning of this year, I’ve already nearly doubled the amount of writing that I performed throughout the first thirteen years of this site. Eleven thousand lines. Speaking with people about anything has become so fucking alien that I may never understand such a fact. My need to remain alone has increased tenfold since last year alone. This is not good. At least being alone all the time means I have control over what causes that same fear. Better than nothing, I suppose. The pull of alcohol is very strong right now. I must resist or risk paying the consquences. Sometime during the last several days – I don’t recall which entry – I mentioned all those things I’ve done; the space program, appearances in documentaries and the news, and other accomplishments. Well, all of it is long gone. Now I sit here and type for a good portion of each day and amount to very little. My entire existence has been altered to the point of being completely unrecognizable when compared to years ago. I used to think I was heading toward ‘something’, whereas now I am going nowhere. There can be little doubt of such a conclusion anymore. I don’t fucking do anything unless it is pressing. I don’t even know what all this shit means. Memories take over too often for me to maintain any semblance of direction anymore. I take care of the daily routine and sometimes go a bit further, but unlike years ago, there is nothing on the horizon. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I have been in contact with precisely two individuals so far this calendar year, not counting the dinner for my birthday which I would have avoided if I were a colder person. When I rise from bed in the morning, I look forward to feeding the cats and brewing coffee. And then I take care of the early business. And then I return to this table until the coffee is gone. And then the routine takes a bit of my time. And then? I have not one fucking clue as to how to proceed with my day. And then the evening comes along and I make dinner. And then a show or two, followed by sleep. And then the whole cycle repeats. The longer I remain in this house working on my mental and emotional condition, the further back those memories are shoved, eventually leading me to the potentially dangerous second cocktail. And then I feel physically drained throughout the rest of the day and evening. What else, you ask? I didn’t even mention the sheer power of things I may see through the window. Remember, I have field glasses next to me. Splendid. I continue to be desperate to see anything wondrous, and then I remember when that very same wonder was right in front of my stupid face. The memories are causing as much damage now as when those periods first came to pass. Desperation is dangerous, for the umpteenth time. The time is now 1226 and I have yet to hear back from the dealership about my car. At some point, the shit in my head is going to emanate from my mouth, and believe me when I say I pity the fucking person that is in front of me when it happens. There is an old saying born of anger and frustration, ‘I will not be held responsible for my actions’. Well, I will be held responsible. What’s worse is the fact that I don’t fucking care anymore. God forbid me calling the warranty company. Considering my present mood, I don't believe the exchange would leave them with a positive image of their customer. Warmer weather would be very nice right now. Ugh. I decided that a second drink is what I need this afternoon. Shoot me. I don’t care. If I end up feeling like crap I’ll go to sleep for a while. There is not one fucking aspect of this day that can hold my interest. The glass of foggy blue is glistening to my right. Beautiful. Whatever the drink may label me, I don’t care. You probably already knew that. I was right there... Directly attached to the end-all be-all of human existence, and the last bastion of endeavor in my life. The very fucking last, for sure. Right there. Um... Twice. I remember some of what took place. Not all of it, though. Some. I can’t see everything as it was on those two occasions, but I can remember the feelings and the conversation. I remember the song. I remember the room was warm. I was right fucking attached as if my very life depended upon the connection. The entirety of those emotions is now but a memory... Another in my four-dimensional file cabinet which holds everything good, and plenty of bad. Sitting here right now forces me to realize that such a fantasy cannot repeat, ever. I still can’t fucking believe those two days and the way they skewed my sense of beauty and wonder to the point of insanity. Sometimes I think the memory is ok, while during other recollections I believe quite the reverse. Those moments are gone and may yet kill me. Eight years is a long time for desperation to build, believe me. Now it is out of control. I am barely scratching the surface. There is one irrefutable cause, one underlying issue which supports the damage involved with said cause, and a subsequent atmosphere of anger, hatred and depression which cannot be alleviated by anyone, no matter the timeline. Everything has been poured and set. Everything has been permanently filed away. Nothing can change what has already been inflicted. The cause and issue have fused. I hate them both. You want more verisimilitude? Anger is real. It is the reality through which I plod every day. I cannot destroy the cause due to the passage of time, nor can I change the issue. This is all I am anymore; I’ve become something impossible to define. When I look back at the accomplishments of the past, I am seeing someone else. Not me. I am not going to swing the hammer. I am going to make people wonder about the depth of what is taking place inside me. They can ask, yet I will not answer. The hammer indicates a lousy mood and I no longer want clear indications of my feelings. Well, maybe if I can eventually acquire the proper audio, things could possibly change. Until then, however, I am closed for business. The cause is centered within my attention. And? The weather is too cold for me to spend more than a few minutes in the garage, anyway. Heh. I suspect the issue with the car repair is not the dealership, but the warranty company. Until I have my vehicle back, I shall remain businesslike and calm. Afterward, I may become highly upset. I do not wish to clog the works until my precious car is in front of the house and ready to go. I need that fucking car. My mood is going south faster than jet-propelled geese in Winter. Right now I can’t do anything about anything, and such a realization can be very frustrating. Call the guys with the butterfly nets. You can thank me later for the suggestion. This music shall heretofore be labeled ‘alcoholic music’. That is that. And I see little reason not to sit here at this control center all fucking day. Oh, God... I was right fucking there. The first time was uncomfortable, however. No matter. On the second occasion I made the point of my obsession abundantly clear, and can think in such terms these days because the obsession has changed. This is not good by any stretch of the word, trust me. Let’s just call it another realization and leave it at that. Shut up. I am watching the world go by through my office window. This is the shape of things to come, as well, because my willingness to venture out and connect with people has disappeared. They can travel to and from work, go on vacations or head out for some shopping, fuel their vehicles and socialize as they see fit, so long as I am left completely out of everything. People are no longer people to me. They are sheep. An important factor is that this is a change in me, not them. My present stance has been crafted from memories from the nineties and early zeros when I longed to be above the world and detached from a society I failed to understand. That feeling faded into the mid and late zeros, too. I had become a very squared away member of the machine and a person who accomplished much, including a house (in my name, believe it or not), my dream car, and all of the little devices and enjoyments apparent. I had much during those last few years in the valley. Much. On the inside, however, I began to yearn for realization of my obsession and closed the decade by causing so much damage that I am ashamed to admit it. But I ran... I ran toward the shine and threw away so many relationships that I can’t even begin to recall the sum. I see the world going by from my window and recall that I was a part of it. Now I am a black void on the planet. And I am sad over the fact that I can no longer identify with everyone else. Yes, I said I am sad. I may not be able to involve myself as I once did, yet there is no circumventing the fact that I did have a good life and hurt people who were completely undeserving of such behavior. The world is out there. I am here. And I shall remain as such until the end of everything. This may be the worst entry I’ve ever written. And yes, even more so than the one from seventeen. That was a symptom. The most hurtful aspect of remaining in here for the rest of my life is that the fucking obsession is out there, somewhere beyond the window of my office. Everything is sad. I’ve stated that this new desktop computer is wonderful. It may also represent the end of me. Have I mentioned the word ‘sad’? This is all so very sad. Anyway, back to the topic of this fucking shit-show of a paragraph. My need to remain hidden away is hurting me. The obsession is the most powerful desire inside me as a person, yet if I do not travel beyond the six-thousand foot parcel of this property, it shall forever remain nothing more than a dream. And another point is that the dream is quite often unreal, anyway. I need what I need, however that does not mean that my needs can come to fruition or be satiated in any way. Do you understand? My perception has become so fucking distorted beyond reality that there exists a distinct possibility that the chances are far from feasible. In the last year alone, I’ve been exposed to aspects of beauty that had not been considered prior to the damaging dreams. And now I am all fucked up over that aspect and cannot discuss the subject with anyone. I am slowly making the decision to hide away for all time, and that means I am cutting myself off from both the assistance of anyone who may be able to help as well as the objects of my obsession. I am beginning to feel as if this is going in circles. A clarification may be that if I close myself off from the rest of the world, I am also closing myself off from the possibility of realizing there could be an example of my obsession out there somewhere who may actually repeat what has taken place in the past. Ah, God damn this anyway. I can’t maintain a clear line of thinking right now. Maybe it’s the booze and maybe it’s my head, but I don’t see an outlet from this fucking paragraph that can accomplish what I need. I will say that I am pretty fucking angry right now, and the emotion may be stunting my ability to articulate feelings. I see things through the window and realize I am further away from them than what the tape measure may reveal. Is that better? 1409. Third cocktail. And you don’t have to say it. I realize that given my past track record of drinking this much on a weekday the practice is ill-advised, yet I am not feeling like doing anything correctly today, nor do I care about how bad things may become as a result. I have the alcoholic music of life still playing and fully intend to sit right fucking here for the duration, meaning everything else must be shoved to the rear. Sometimes I just can’t help but be destructive and depressed. Leave it alone, please. I feel like shit anyway, so I may as well let myself fall into a pit of despair. I am absolutely dying to share this mood with someone. Dying. No one is listening, though. I need help. The grocery delivery window has opened. This will be the deciding factor in any future orders. I hope they come through. Today is not the day for anything to go awry, believe me. Actually, I am halfway through the window. For the love of Christ, please don’t allow this to be another negative aspect of my already shitty mood. If and when I decide to swing the hammer again, I really need to ramp up the haunting nature of the music I choose. The garage is already awash with murals that keep people away, yet I know I can do better by dropping a pill on the tongues of those who believe this house is a likely candidate of salesmanship. Bring it to me, please. I need an example right now. This afternoon has shown me that I reside at the hind end of communication. As much as I wish to remain behind this window and quiet, there is a part of me that needs some fucking satisfaction. I am many things, but not a fucking idiot. 1511. The grocery order arrived exactly one minute before the window closed. That is no big deal because I am here all the time anyway. Unfortunately, there were three items missing, so I had to go through the process of notifying the store and now must wait for a refund. Those three just happened to be the most expensive of the entire order. Shit. Whatever. I can deal with it. I don’t want anyone unknowing of my current mental condition to end up the recipient of thirty years’ worth of shit, though. Missing items can always be rectified, yet my mood knows no cure. This is becoming a red-letter day with regard to my entire fucking life. I did receive a message from the dealership that the repair was approved, though. That is good because I am positioned dead centered in my need to put someone on a pedestal so everyone can see them torn down in a most hideous manner. This is bad. My anger is at an all-time high. What a shitty day. And I have to tone down the mood and make nice at close of business? That is going to be a difficult stretch for me right now. Very difficult, indeed. I must lash out, yet there is no available direction. God damn it. I swear as I sit in this chair, I will dress to defy the cold and move to my garage for no other reason than to lash out at the world in the only way I can anymore. Ah, God. It was meaningful to Her. Meaningful. Everyone else has been nothing more than some errant vessel and repository for the waves of life. She knew... She understood the importance. She really did. No one has achieved such a position in so many years that attempting to recall the number only inflames my madness. It was meaningful to Her. Why did She have to leave? The rest of my day is fucked. And a clue as to the full situation in my brain just walked by on the sidewalk across the street. Yep... I grabbed the field glasses and pulled clear focus of her fucking lines, too. I really did. The time is nigh for me to be permanently labeled. She was a clue. I needed to see those lines so closely that something else may accompany the sight. Read that again. She was a clue to the entire shitaree. I lost my train of thought roughly seven milliseconds after noticing her black pants. Wonderful. Seven milliseconds, and believe me when I say that I have the background to understand time referenced down that far. Three more and I wanted to plant my lips to what was inside those fucking pants. I am ruined. The obsession is death. She walked by a second time with a doggie in tow and my needs became dire. Did I state that I am ruined? Cease your doubt of what I have become. Cease your doubt. Believe me when I say that approaching my garage these days is not a good idea. This shit is going to come to one hell of a head soon. I have stated that on many occasions, but believe me, everything continues to build inside my head and there will be a detonation. God fucking damn did I want that girl’s tenderness glued to my lips. Fuck. And? Fuck you. Shut up. The time is now 1648 and I have been in front of this machine for nearly the entire day. Nothing else held enough to pull me away other than the occasional smoke break in the garage. Twice now I have strolled out there and blasted the same track over the mighty audio system. There is probably nothing more for me today aside from preparing dinner and sitting on my cozy loveseat in front of the big television. The routine is all I accomplished today and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. I just don’t fucking care anymore. Perhaps tomorrow will be the opposite. I have all the time in the world these days. 0800 and the quiet time has begun. I have coffee, too. The last cup, though. I had to finish the early business prior to relaxing this morning. Jessica’s chiclets have been all over the fucking screen for the last several minutes. Damn. And I just missed out on something for fuck’s sake. I wish that had not happened. Whatever. Anyway, I fully intend to maintain my mood today after yesterday’s booze-fueled bullshit. I am going to be more productive, too. Just little things, I guess. There is no reason to flip out and try to cram too much into one day. I can take care of everything and go a bit further without pushing. I’ll have an easy time making up for yesterday. For the time being, I need to consider my feelings toward my obsession and the way it has shaped behaviors recently. Everything seems to be expanding and amplifying these days. I don’t understand, although there is a detail I mentioned not long ago that points to one definite cause of feeling so much desperation all the time. I know that much, yet cannot reveal it on the site. The bottom line is though I know of that one detail, there are plenty of other fucking shitty situations in my head that will not let up. I have to keep working on this. A good portion of this day will be spent toward such an end. Oh, Nora. Hold me, please. I need it. My head keeps going back in time to that wondrous, beautiful memory when I felt I was actually attached to a person with the answers. That day showed me just how fucking desperate I had become, and regardless of how blown up everything was inside my head, somehow I still knew that the world was off kilter and sideways. Now, every time I see a certain pair of eyes and begin to become smitten, I feel that same deep-seated need to be held and understood. The memory of that day is killing me. I am desperate for the right type of connection and memories are driving the need. 1032. The daily routine is finished and boy did I ever thrash the kitchen last night (and this morning). Wow. I’ve been doing my best to minimize the amount of items that actually need to be washed in the interest of saving water. Sometimes, though, I do a lot of prep work or cooking in the evening and following morning, and that means using more water. The paper plates need to be stocked soon. I don’t mind spending a bit of money in order to lower water usage. Anyway, I’m going to have lunch (unlike yesterday) and sit here for a while before tackling more housework. I ran the first load of dry cleaning and will finish it when I’m done eating. I need to see her again, and the way she appeared that one fucking day when I lost my mind. I am fucking desperate to see her. Not even Nora’s beauty or Jessica’s chiclets can suppress such a deep desire to see that morsel again. Ever since the vision from months ago, I can’t get the image out of my head. Somewhere around that same time, there had been an occurrence that I cannot fully detail here, but believe me... It was the most powerful pull imaginable and a test I have failed more often than I would care to admit. On that occasion, I passed with flying colors, thank the maker. And keep in mind that everything regarding this topic is going to remain so fucking veiled that no one will have a clue as to what I am referring. This is the way things must be. Believe me, I’d love to spill it all right here on the site. Just believe it. There was a time when the draw upon my senses hit a high point, and shortly thereafter things went downhill so quickly that my brain could barely keep up. I really had to stretch myself in order to affect repairs and then move on in life. The glaring positive here is that I’ve learned to remain precisely where I reside and leave everything alone. The alternative is a repeat of the most terrible period and I just can’t have that right now. My little apple cart has to stay upright despite the overwhelming pull upon my senses and the desperate need to move in one specific direction. I yearn so deeply to see the lines and know that due to such dreaming my brain falters quite often. I sit here and daydream of impossible situations and then fall into a vat of depression because reality will not allow such wonder to come to pass. My little, desperate fantasy world continues to grow. God damn do I ever need to see her. Again... Memories of being right there are driving me to dream too often for normal functioning. That is what happened yesterday. Well, the other shit with the car and groceries didn’t help my mood, but the primary catalyst remains untouchable and in the past. 1530. I put the finishing touches on the kitchen and then made one hell of a bowl of mashed potatoes for a potluck tomorrow. They are cooling, plus I cleaned up afterward. Oh, and something wondrous may take place very soon but I can’t talk about it. Typical, eh? I think I’ll relax here a while and then head to the garage for some much-needed straightening. The weather is a touch warmer, and the sunshine is keeping the house comfortable. I won’t be out there long, though, and part of the reason is a switching of the motorcycle for another. The stored bike is going to the City for repair and another will be taking its place until the work is completed. I really don’t mind storing it here, either. My neighbor is a great guy and I like to help. God damn does Nicole have a pair of lips. Jesus. Anyway, we help each other when necessary and then enjoy some garage relaxation when schedules and time permit. Well, those along with warmer temperatures. There does not seem to be anything powerful enough to push away the memories most of the time, the resulting emotions often being pushed to ruin my otherwise peaceful days. I also believe that the time which has elapsed since the damaging essay many years ago has both inflamed my condition and added to the memories, some good and some bad. Five years ago I did not lose my shit upon gazing at lines as I do these days. The last occasion was mere days ago and I went around the fucking world trying to articulate my feelings with words, an impossible process. The passage of time quite often causes any internal malfunctions to worsen without any help, and that is what has happened to me. That girl the other day drove me fucking INSANE and I literally ceased everything because my brain lost the ability to calculate a damned thing. The situation continues to worsen, as well. The ups are shortening in duration and the downs are taking all that time. I first shifted the site direction toward my obsession more than eight fucking years ago. Think about that. Two years later was that fateful entry when I thought I was going to lose my mind. Think on that one, as well. Nothing from the car dealership today means they needed time to acquire the part and perform the repair. Hopefully the process won’t take more than a few days. I need my cozy car back in the driveway, if for nothing more than to at least feel like I can go somewhere. I haven’t traveled past the sidewalk in more than two weeks. Laugh it up. I just missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Yep, that same pair of legs just went by and I had a chance to see her walking while wrapped in jeans. Damn it. 1700 now, straight up. Everything is finished, including my brain. Melted. I missed her, for fuck’s sake. Something has to change, but what? Do you have the answer? I didn’t think so. I don’t know if the motorcycle exchange is going to happen today. No big deal, though. I’m always here. In preparation for a possible tiny social hour, I went out there and did some organization, stored a few items and grabbed a filter for the furnace that will be replaced tomorrow. The garage is in decent order right now. If the bikes are switched, at least the area is squared away and ready for a guest or two. I knew she was going to walk by because I saw her heading out of the court a while earlier while I was in the garage. I knew at some point she would return from the same direction, meaning from this chair I could have seen every fucking line on display. This is the saddest state of affairs in memory. Saddest, without a doubt. I’ve never been so full of turmoil and torment. Nearly a year has passed since the first dream and I continue the same slow decline. Just imagine my joy in knowing that she was going to pass by in jeans, and my first thought of gazing across the street from this window through field glasses (like I did the other day). Think about that shit for a moment. And then think some more. I even reconnected the camera to my new phone and had it in position for advance notice that she would pass. The camera has a wider view, so once she was visible on the left-hand display, I would have time to grab the glasses and focus. There it is, cut and dry. I am a basket case, now more than ever. I truly cannot remember ever feeling so fucked in the head. I need to change the subject. 0808 on Friday morning with coffee and my deranged friends on the right-hand display. I need this type of morning today, too. Peace and quiet combined with time to think help me through most days. There are still moments when I don’t know what to do and begin to go a little nuts, but the fact that I am here every day with only a small amount of responsibilities is truly wonderful. Ah, fuck shit damn crap anyway... Speaking of going nuts, I just saw her for a few seconds. Black pants again. Fuck, is she ever gorgeous. Anyway, I was in the garage rather late last night for the motorcycle delivery. Everything is squared away on that front. Later today, I need to go to my other neighbor’s house to change a projection lamp in her television. That is no big deal. I may also spend a little time helping with one of the bikes next door. For the bulk of the hours ahead, I am going to sit here and work on myself. I need to see her, yet at the same time I wish I hadn’t this morning. I’m already all fucked up over yesterday. More shit on the pile is not good. Niall just completely fucked over Nora. Damn him, but I do understand. Her eyes looked huge and beautiful just prior to Niall slamming her with light. Yikes. I need more problems right now like I need another fucking hole in my head. Oh, I forgot. What I want or need doesn’t fucking matter in the least. I just keep seeing things and recalling those beautiful situations of the past, and then I sit here at this machine and try to understand why everything makes me so damned desperate all the time. There is one certainty about which I can’t do anything, so that is that. At least I know it. As for the rest, well... I’ll probably never get anywhere with this crap and just remain here until something bad takes place. The one item of which I am aware is causing more pain than I can handle at times, especially considering the issues already at work and how they all relate to each other. Desperation is one thing about which I can do exactly nothing, and I am beginning to see the future will be more of everything bad, all of it heightened by feeling the first word of this sentence far too deeply. I keep stating that this is a bad time and/or I don’t know what to do each day, both for good reason. I am completely fucking lost right now. A few years ago I did not consider this type of situation. I suppose I had no prior reason to think in such a manner, and now the idea has been drifting around inside my head since early last year. The fact that there is almost nothing I can do about this has become more frustrating than I’d care to admit. Believe it or not, there is the possibility of someone helping me (no one in particular, though) but I can’t reach in any direction right now because that would require speaking about what has been happening inside me. I will not accept a pair of ears. Not even close. The fact that I could reach out is simply a truism. It does not mean that I am willing to do anything different in my life. This has little to do with feeling so desperate to be where I need, yet one can affect the other, I suppose. I can’t wish it away and I can’t return to those times when I felt happiness. I just have to fucking lump it, as my dad used to say. I’ve never known what that means but it seems to fit for whatever reason. One of these days this shit is going to become too much for me to bear. I don’t know when, however. I just know that the levels of desperation and anger that I feel each day are increasing. The world is not aligned with the idea of either of those emotions diminishing. That fact leaves only one direction in life. And yes, I am serious. 0908. The coffee is nearly gone. Yesterday I avoided anything more than the typical morning cocktail due to the shit I caused two days ago. I can learn, sometimes. Anyway, today will follow suit because I need to feel accomplished by close of business hours. Other than feeling very sad and angry, I don’t see issues getting through the day without imploding. Time will tell, as usual. One important point for me these days is to avoid anything beyond the typical morning drink. Number two may be fine, but beyond that I will become too angry and reckless for my own good. 1239. My daily routine is finished. I’ve been going around and around with the home theatre audio bullshit again. I still have no solid conclusion other than adding equipment in order to gain frequency control over one or more channels. Every idea seems to run into a roadblock, and that includes the most elaborate change, which is eliminating the streaming interface and adding a computer. Perhaps if I continue to think about the issue I will come up with something straightforward and inexpensive. Until then, the status quo shall remain. The bottom line is that I have not been able to come up with an effective solution that does not involve much money or effort. The house is quiet and mellow today. I need this atmosphere, too. The home theatre audio issue aside, there are plenty of difficulties plaguing my head lately, and the peaceful nature of this house during the daytime hours is quite often all I have. On days like earlier this week when I hit an angry wall and went through the day dwelling too much on issues, something has to keep me anchored to the positives, and that connection is being home. The situation is highly advantageous considering my weakened condition and desperate nature. My apple cart has to remain upright or I’ll create some kind of damage from which there will not be an easy return. I dreamed of having this much free time for nearly a decade, and even after enjoying it for almost three years now, I still appreciate each moment. I really do. Still no word on my car. Ugh. At least I know the process was approved. Maybe the part they had to order is slow to arrive. Whatever. Eventually, my vehicle will be right here at home and this issue will be in the past. I just need to be patient. Last night I put on one of the big three films from the early aughts that held tremendous wonder. We watched all three on their respective opening days and at the big dome. That was literally the heyday for that theatre and I miss it every time I am reminded of the place. The atmosphere of seeing a premiere was magical and many others felt the same way. The theatre is another hurtful memory, yet it is unrelated to the rest. Sometimes I can’t help but get into one of those films and daydream about how wondrous the process of spending time there had been. Everything was different, and I realized last night that though I’d seen films in the domes dating back to the mid-seventies, the ignition of my current fire was during the year of ninety-six. I will not go on about it, but trust me when I say that as my buddy and I exited the half-circle snack bar and moved around the outer edge to enter the auditorium, I gazed at the size and shape of the screen and saw it as if I never had before, and then turned toward the projection booth so see more than nine hundred seats nearly facing my position. I was floored and never recovered. From that point forward, each premiere found me living outside that theatre like it was a second home. Well, things have changed and I’ve only seen one film in a theatre since the year of thirteen. If anything can make me sadder than I already was, this is it. An entire lifestyle is gone. Not good. Memories of all kinds have me desperate for anything capable of breeding joy. Beauty is but one facet of an overarching theme of loss. A vision unlike any other, and I am not talking about a theatre. A vision from beyond comprehension. I saw it and will not recover for some time. Amazing, striking, and unexpected. I was not prepared for what crossed my eyesight and now keep seeing it play over and over inside my head. I could not have asked for as much. Now I don’t know what to do. When the phone rings, I will need to head down the street a bit and replace the projection lamp in a friend’s television, yet the entire time I will be seeing something else... Something more powerful than I could have imagined prior to last year. I only wished. This evening is going to be warm, quiet and peaceful. Just what I need right now. I am further damaged, more desperate, and much sadder than just an hour ago. The only path that can save me now is to embrace whatever can occupy my thoughts, be that large or small. This is a bad time, and getting worse. 1630. I am waiting for the phone to ring. Nothing else is on my horizon. Wonderful memories, all very much detached now. They are causing me to feel desperation related to much more than beauty. The more I see and dream, the further down I travel. I am wondering where the bottom is, or when I may locate it. I don’t know. The little things still help, though. Unfortunately, they are diminishing as quickly as my ability to remain even the tiniest bit positive." 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The Desperation of Memory Mature content No. 363 Published March 3rd, 2023 4:39pm pst read ( words) Past entries "‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ I love it. 1300 straight up. Laundry is finished and lunch is out of the way. I called to check on the car and apparently they are still waiting on some information from the warranty company. Unbelievable. Sometimes I say no news is good news, but I am beginning to feel a bit impatient with the coverage. This situation with the repair should be very straightforward. The dealership is doing its best to communicate with me, too. I will probably hear from them this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Today marks two weeks without my vehicle of freedom, damn it. Hopefully by tomorrow everything will be fine because I need the car here and at my disposal. In the meantime, I am hoping to see the camera bag arrive on the porch. I could use a distraction. One huge plus right now is that the new phone is everything I had hoped, and more. The battery life is incredible, as is the speed of the processor. Gone are the network issues I experienced with its predecessor. Any positives these days go a long way to helping me remain even-keeled, and the phone is definitely far up the list. Holy crap is Nora ever beautifully unique. Damn. I may head into the kitchen in a while and prepare dinner beforehand, only to heat it this evening. Once business hours are over, I like to relax on the sofa with a drink and watch one of my shows on the television. The cold weather lately finds me in need of cozy warmth at night, and if I get everything together prior to that time, I can more easily time the dinner and spend more of my evening off my feet. For whatever reason, I seem to be more motivated toward earlier kitchen work rather than after dark. Today could be ideal for such a method. Moreover, I can have my friends keeping me company the entire time. They are more important than ever. I am still waiting for the camera bag, too. When it arrives, I’ll have a project for both today and tomorrow. I am looking forward to seeing it almost as much as I desire seeing her again. Ugh. There is another Jamie who appears in a handful of episodes of this program. She has three key features that drive me fucking nuts sometimes. God damn would I ever love to climb into her shirt. Oh, and here is one of my favorite scenes. Russell is a supremely evil sonuvabitch, but still a badass villain and an incredible character. 1655. So, I finished most of the dinner preparations and have everything ready to cook later. That means my evening will be more relaxing. Nice. I also cleaned up after the kitchen work. I want to kiss Nora so bad sometimes. Jesus crap and everything else, she is amazing. Ugh. Whatever. Anyway, I mentioned doing some work for dinner in order to free my evening a bit because it is important these days. Just like mornings, I need to have a certain repeatable comfort for a while or I don’t feel well inside. Working in the kitchen is still as appealing as it was two-plus years ago, as well, so when I’m in there doing whatever and my friends are keeping me company, a familiar solace washes over me. To call me a creature of habit is a gross understatement. This is what being home for nearly three years has done to me after almost a decade of dreaming of such a situation. I still have plenty of unresolvable issues, yet the comfort of being here helps. In the beginning and just after I installed the television in the kitchen, much of the wonder was following along with my favorite stories while cleaning. Prior to the television, my typical method was to don the wireless MDRs or blast music from the office. I have to say that the feeling of being in the kitchen while watching my friends as they go on adventures is unequaled in my history. Another push is the fact that I first began to embrace music while cleaning way back when I lived in the Midwest. That was my D-555 coupled with the mighty V6s. I began to use the music to keep me company that far back. Now I am so deep in the fantasy of my television shows that there is no going back. And to wrap the opening of this paragraph to its close, my morning quiet time at the computer and the evening on the sofa are nearly as critical to my survival. Jolaimora. The name of the condition. Believe it. Reality is no longer acceptable, nor does it hold enough sway to keep me alive. 0736 on Wednesday morning. Today is the first of March. That means we will be switching to daylight saving time soon. No, not ‘savings’ time. ‘Saving’. I am at the control center for the duration this morning. Ordering some staples may be on the schedule today, plus a bit more office work and my typical stuff. I have much thinking to do on this day because I really surprised myself yesterday afternoon and again this morning with the way I dealt with an issue that seems to be growing in importance. I have to think, period. I believe if I run the fourth show in the background as I work in the house today, my head might relax enough to better understand everything. I just caught a glimpse of the morsel. Damn. I am a basket case. 1035. My routine is finished and I have a fatass cocktail sitting to my right just below the vampire program. One interesting item today is that I placed an order to be delivered from the market. Since my car is still in the hospital, I wanted to grab a few staples and the first delivery is free, plus I had a code for twenty dollars off. That’s pretty good. Once the car is back, I will not need to order things to be delivered, but on this occasion there are some products that are required for daily meals and such. I may also order from the big-box store that is not far from the airport. That would be fantastic and save us a trip. Again, the first delivery is free. Not bad. There is something wrong with my left knee – the very same that I injured many years ago – and the feeling is that I need to remain off my feet for some hours today. Since my daily stuff is finished, I have the hours ahead to myself, and that means I can take it easy if necessary. Holy Christ is Nora ever beautiful... More every time I see her. Fuck. And? Lilith is disgusting and gorgeous at the same time. Don’t ask. Anyway, I’d like to tool around with the camera bag today, as well as care for some things that have been dormant, yet my knee might keep me immobile for quite some time. The upside is my schedule is completely under my control, as is the atmosphere inside the house nearly all of the time. I really need this quiet time today, both due to my fucked up knee and the memories in my head. Jessica’s chiclets are apparent. I love the chicles, yet have no idea of why, much like many other fascinations in life. Where was I? Ah... Being home today is very important for my peace of mind. I have the time and space to do whatever seems best or therapeutic. At 1107 – just a moment ago – I switched from the video media to the music of life. My mood is all over the map today. The morning drink is gone, too. I don’t know what that means aside from the fact that I miss the little sipper, but a second drink before evening is probably not a good idea. Supporting that statement is my messed up knee. Having another cocktail could find me reckless and I may further inflame whatever is going on. I can’t have that right now. Water is the path. This music always causes me to recall my time with Her and those emotional conversations we shared. It also brings back thoughts of escape and the wonder of exploring unknown places (albeit very comfortable settings, for sure). Throughout the past three years I have crafted a place to live that aligns with long periods of toil and dreaming of being free of such environments. Some of my visions were so harsh that no one, not even the Raven, agreed to such living conditions. I remember all the way back when I worked at the parts house and gazed at necessary components for a long, arduous and risky journey to the north. I used to calculate what I would need for such a trip and made plans for routes and whatnot. I wanted to escape from the doldrums of work and residing within an apathetic society, eventually leading me to believe that the only way to find a peaceful destination was to head for places that typical humans did not consider comfortable, but I was willing. And though I made my escape a few times and ran to what I needed, none of those trips were along the lines of what I had dreamed during the mid-nineties. I visited big cities within which I could disappear due to not knowing anyone, save for whatever beautiful soul was along for the ride. The last potential effort was during fifteen when the Raven and I nearly took off for the foothills out of a desperate desire to leave Bay Area society behind. That journey never took place, obviously, but the thought was very enticing at the time. Christ knows where I would be right now had we actually left town. I listen to these compositions and recall each occasion when I had become completely disillusioned and yearned for simplicity and solace. The music also pushes me to drink more than usual. Why? Because I am unhappy, depressed, and desperate to either relive those times or create new ones. Most of the reason I avoid speaking with others about my feelings is out of fear. No, not the damaging dreams and the mass of desire they have created, but the fear of being placated. I simply cannot accept a person trivializing my depression or emotional condition. This is why everything remains bottled up and closed off to the world. Many years ago I feared not being taken seriously, and such a state is still apparent. It is another contributing factor in me remaining completely closed off. The keyboard does not judge me or dismiss anything I feel or have to say. I just keep typing. One of the biggest factors in how I live out my days right now is the idea that I am so fucking different from a few years ago. I look out the window and cannot begin to understand a ‘typical’ lifestyle. I see others out there driving to and from work, taking their dogs for a walk, or engaging in some other behavior and all of it is now alien to me. All I do is stay inside and avoid everything, save for the occasional shopping trips. If I am alone all the time, I need not worry about what another person may think of me. I have effectively dumped ninety-five percent of my previous way of life. Put another way, let me tell you that since the beginning of this year, I’ve already nearly doubled the amount of writing that I performed throughout the first thirteen years of this site. Eleven thousand lines. Speaking with people about anything has become so fucking alien that I may never understand such a fact. My need to remain alone has increased tenfold since last year alone. This is not good. At least being alone all the time means I have control over what causes that same fear. Better than nothing, I suppose. The pull of alcohol is very strong right now. I must resist or risk paying the consquences. Sometime during the last several days – I don’t recall which entry – I mentioned all those things I’ve done; the space program, appearances in documentaries and the news, and other accomplishments. Well, all of it is long gone. Now I sit here and type for a good portion of each day and amount to very little. My entire existence has been altered to the point of being completely unrecognizable when compared to years ago. I used to think I was heading toward ‘something’, whereas now I am going nowhere. There can be little doubt of such a conclusion anymore. I don’t fucking do anything unless it is pressing. I don’t even know what all this shit means. Memories take over too often for me to maintain any semblance of direction anymore. I take care of the daily routine and sometimes go a bit further, but unlike years ago, there is nothing on the horizon. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I have been in contact with precisely two individuals so far this calendar year, not counting the dinner for my birthday which I would have avoided if I were a colder person. When I rise from bed in the morning, I look forward to feeding the cats and brewing coffee. And then I take care of the early business. And then I return to this table until the coffee is gone. And then the routine takes a bit of my time. And then? I have not one fucking clue as to how to proceed with my day. And then the evening comes along and I make dinner. And then a show or two, followed by sleep. And then the whole cycle repeats. The longer I remain in this house working on my mental and emotional condition, the further back those memories are shoved, eventually leading me to the potentially dangerous second cocktail. And then I feel physically drained throughout the rest of the day and evening. What else, you ask? I didn’t even mention the sheer power of things I may see through the window. Remember, I have field glasses next to me. Splendid. I continue to be desperate to see anything wondrous, and then I remember when that very same wonder was right in front of my stupid face. The memories are causing as much damage now as when those periods first came to pass. Desperation is dangerous, for the umpteenth time. The time is now 1226 and I have yet to hear back from the dealership about my car. At some point, the shit in my head is going to emanate from my mouth, and believe me when I say I pity the fucking person that is in front of me when it happens. There is an old saying born of anger and frustration, ‘I will not be held responsible for my actions’. Well, I will be held responsible. What’s worse is the fact that I don’t fucking care anymore. God forbid me calling the warranty company. Considering my present mood, I don't believe the exchange would leave them with a positive image of their customer. Warmer weather would be very nice right now. Ugh. I decided that a second drink is what I need this afternoon. Shoot me. I don’t care. If I end up feeling like crap I’ll go to sleep for a while. There is not one fucking aspect of this day that can hold my interest. The glass of foggy blue is glistening to my right. Beautiful. Whatever the drink may label me, I don’t care. You probably already knew that. I was right there... Directly attached to the end-all be-all of human existence, and the last bastion of endeavor in my life. The very fucking last, for sure. Right there. Um... Twice. I remember some of what took place. Not all of it, though. Some. I can’t see everything as it was on those two occasions, but I can remember the feelings and the conversation. I remember the song. I remember the room was warm. I was right fucking attached as if my very life depended upon the connection. The entirety of those emotions is now but a memory... Another in my four-dimensional file cabinet which holds everything good, and plenty of bad. Sitting here right now forces me to realize that such a fantasy cannot repeat, ever. I still can’t fucking believe those two days and the way they skewed my sense of beauty and wonder to the point of insanity. Sometimes I think the memory is ok, while during other recollections I believe quite the reverse. Those moments are gone and may yet kill me. Eight years is a long time for desperation to build, believe me. Now it is out of control. I am barely scratching the surface. There is one irrefutable cause, one underlying issue which supports the damage involved with said cause, and a subsequent atmosphere of anger, hatred and depression which cannot be alleviated by anyone, no matter the timeline. Everything has been poured and set. Everything has been permanently filed away. Nothing can change what has already been inflicted. The cause and issue have fused. I hate them both. You want more verisimilitude? Anger is real. It is the reality through which I plod every day. I cannot destroy the cause due to the passage of time, nor can I change the issue. This is all I am anymore; I’ve become something impossible to define. When I look back at the accomplishments of the past, I am seeing someone else. Not me. I am not going to swing the hammer. I am going to make people wonder about the depth of what is taking place inside me. They can ask, yet I will not answer. The hammer indicates a lousy mood and I no longer want clear indications of my feelings. Well, maybe if I can eventually acquire the proper audio, things could possibly change. Until then, however, I am closed for business. The cause is centered within my attention. And? The weather is too cold for me to spend more than a few minutes in the garage, anyway. Heh. I suspect the issue with the car repair is not the dealership, but the warranty company. Until I have my vehicle back, I shall remain businesslike and calm. Afterward, I may become highly upset. I do not wish to clog the works until my precious car is in front of the house and ready to go. I need that fucking car. My mood is going south faster than jet-propelled geese in Winter. Right now I can’t do anything about anything, and such a realization can be very frustrating. Call the guys with the butterfly nets. You can thank me later for the suggestion. This music shall heretofore be labeled ‘alcoholic music’. That is that. And I see little reason not to sit here at this control center all fucking day. Oh, God... I was right fucking there. The first time was uncomfortable, however. No matter. On the second occasion I made the point of my obsession abundantly clear, and can think in such terms these days because the obsession has changed. This is not good by any stretch of the word, trust me. Let’s just call it another realization and leave it at that. Shut up. I am watching the world go by through my office window. This is the shape of things to come, as well, because my willingness to venture out and connect with people has disappeared. They can travel to and from work, go on vacations or head out for some shopping, fuel their vehicles and socialize as they see fit, so long as I am left completely out of everything. People are no longer people to me. They are sheep. An important factor is that this is a change in me, not them. My present stance has been crafted from memories from the nineties and early zeros when I longed to be above the world and detached from a society I failed to understand. That feeling faded into the mid and late zeros, too. I had become a very squared away member of the machine and a person who accomplished much, including a house (in my name, believe it or not), my dream car, and all of the little devices and enjoyments apparent. I had much during those last few years in the valley. Much. On the inside, however, I began to yearn for realization of my obsession and closed the decade by causing so much damage that I am ashamed to admit it. But I ran... I ran toward the shine and threw away so many relationships that I can’t even begin to recall the sum. I see the world going by from my window and recall that I was a part of it. Now I am a black void on the planet. And I am sad over the fact that I can no longer identify with everyone else. Yes, I said I am sad. I may not be able to involve myself as I once did, yet there is no circumventing the fact that I did have a good life and hurt people who were completely undeserving of such behavior. The world is out there. I am here. And I shall remain as such until the end of everything. This may be the worst entry I’ve ever written. And yes, even more so than the one from seventeen. That was a symptom. The most hurtful aspect of remaining in here for the rest of my life is that the fucking obsession is out there, somewhere beyond the window of my office. Everything is sad. I’ve stated that this new desktop computer is wonderful. It may also represent the end of me. Have I mentioned the word ‘sad’? This is all so very sad. Anyway, back to the topic of this fucking shit-show of a paragraph. My need to remain hidden away is hurting me. The obsession is the most powerful desire inside me as a person, yet if I do not travel beyond the six-thousand foot parcel of this property, it shall forever remain nothing more than a dream. And another point is that the dream is quite often unreal, anyway. I need what I need, however that does not mean that my needs can come to fruition or be satiated in any way. Do you understand? My perception has become so fucking distorted beyond reality that there exists a distinct possibility that the chances are far from feasible. In the last year alone, I’ve been exposed to aspects of beauty that had not been considered prior to the damaging dreams. And now I am all fucked up over that aspect and cannot discuss the subject with anyone. I am slowly making the decision to hide away for all time, and that means I am cutting myself off from both the assistance of anyone who may be able to help as well as the objects of my obsession. I am beginning to feel as if this is going in circles. A clarification may be that if I close myself off from the rest of the world, I am also closing myself off from the possibility of realizing there could be an example of my obsession out there somewhere who may actually repeat what has taken place in the past. Ah, God damn this anyway. I can’t maintain a clear line of thinking right now. Maybe it’s the booze and maybe it’s my head, but I don’t see an outlet from this fucking paragraph that can accomplish what I need. I will say that I am pretty fucking angry right now, and the emotion may be stunting my ability to articulate feelings. I see things through the window and realize I am further away from them than what the tape measure may reveal. Is that better? 1409. Third cocktail. And you don’t have to say it. I realize that given my past track record of drinking this much on a weekday the practice is ill-advised, yet I am not feeling like doing anything correctly today, nor do I care about how bad things may become as a result. I have the alcoholic music of life still playing and fully intend to sit right fucking here for the duration, meaning everything else must be shoved to the rear. Sometimes I just can’t help but be destructive and depressed. Leave it alone, please. I feel like shit anyway, so I may as well let myself fall into a pit of despair. I am absolutely dying to share this mood with someone. Dying. No one is listening, though. I need help. The grocery delivery window has opened. This will be the deciding factor in any future orders. I hope they come through. Today is not the day for anything to go awry, believe me. Actually, I am halfway through the window. For the love of Christ, please don’t allow this to be another negative aspect of my already shitty mood. If and when I decide to swing the hammer again, I really need to ramp up the haunting nature of the music I choose. The garage is already awash with murals that keep people away, yet I know I can do better by dropping a pill on the tongues of those who believe this house is a likely candidate of salesmanship. Bring it to me, please. I need an example right now. This afternoon has shown me that I reside at the hind end of communication. As much as I wish to remain behind this window and quiet, there is a part of me that needs some fucking satisfaction. I am many things, but not a fucking idiot. 1511. The grocery order arrived exactly one minute before the window closed. That is no big deal because I am here all the time anyway. Unfortunately, there were three items missing, so I had to go through the process of notifying the store and now must wait for a refund. Those three just happened to be the most expensive of the entire order. Shit. Whatever. I can deal with it. I don’t want anyone unknowing of my current mental condition to end up the recipient of thirty years’ worth of shit, though. Missing items can always be rectified, yet my mood knows no cure. This is becoming a red-letter day with regard to my entire fucking life. I did receive a message from the dealership that the repair was approved, though. That is good because I am positioned dead centered in my need to put someone on a pedestal so everyone can see them torn down in a most hideous manner. This is bad. My anger is at an all-time high. What a shitty day. And I have to tone down the mood and make nice at close of business? That is going to be a difficult stretch for me right now. Very difficult, indeed. I must lash out, yet there is no available direction. God damn it. I swear as I sit in this chair, I will dress to defy the cold and move to my garage for no other reason than to lash out at the world in the only way I can anymore. Ah, God. It was meaningful to Her. Meaningful. Everyone else has been nothing more than some errant vessel and repository for the waves of life. She knew... She understood the importance. She really did. No one has achieved such a position in so many years that attempting to recall the number only inflames my madness. It was meaningful to Her. Why did She have to leave? The rest of my day is fucked. And a clue as to the full situation in my brain just walked by on the sidewalk across the street. Yep... I grabbed the field glasses and pulled clear focus of her fucking lines, too. I really did. The time is nigh for me to be permanently labeled. She was a clue. I needed to see those lines so closely that something else may accompany the sight. Read that again. She was a clue to the entire shitaree. I lost my train of thought roughly seven milliseconds after noticing her black pants. Wonderful. Seven milliseconds, and believe me when I say that I have the background to understand time referenced down that far. Three more and I wanted to plant my lips to what was inside those fucking pants. I am ruined. The obsession is death. She walked by a second time with a doggie in tow and my needs became dire. Did I state that I am ruined? Cease your doubt of what I have become. Cease your doubt. Believe me when I say that approaching my garage these days is not a good idea. This shit is going to come to one hell of a head soon. I have stated that on many occasions, but believe me, everything continues to build inside my head and there will be a detonation. God fucking damn did I want that girl’s tenderness glued to my lips. Fuck. And? Fuck you. Shut up. The time is now 1648 and I have been in front of this machine for nearly the entire day. Nothing else held enough to pull me away other than the occasional smoke break in the garage. Twice now I have strolled out there and blasted the same track over the mighty audio system. There is probably nothing more for me today aside from preparing dinner and sitting on my cozy loveseat in front of the big television. The routine is all I accomplished today and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. I just don’t fucking care anymore. Perhaps tomorrow will be the opposite. I have all the time in the world these days. 0800 and the quiet time has begun. I have coffee, too. The last cup, though. I had to finish the early business prior to relaxing this morning. Jessica’s chiclets have been all over the fucking screen for the last several minutes. Damn. And I just missed out on something for fuck’s sake. I wish that had not happened. Whatever. Anyway, I fully intend to maintain my mood today after yesterday’s booze-fueled bullshit. I am going to be more productive, too. Just little things, I guess. There is no reason to flip out and try to cram too much into one day. I can take care of everything and go a bit further without pushing. I’ll have an easy time making up for yesterday. For the time being, I need to consider my feelings toward my obsession and the way it has shaped behaviors recently. Everything seems to be expanding and amplifying these days. I don’t understand, although there is a detail I mentioned not long ago that points to one definite cause of feeling so much desperation all the time. I know that much, yet cannot reveal it on the site. The bottom line is though I know of that one detail, there are plenty of other fucking shitty situations in my head that will not let up. I have to keep working on this. A good portion of this day will be spent toward such an end. Oh, Nora. Hold me, please. I need it. My head keeps going back in time to that wondrous, beautiful memory when I felt I was actually attached to a person with the answers. That day showed me just how fucking desperate I had become, and regardless of how blown up everything was inside my head, somehow I still knew that the world was off kilter and sideways. Now, every time I see a certain pair of eyes and begin to become smitten, I feel that same deep-seated need to be held and understood. The memory of that day is killing me. I am desperate for the right type of connection and memories are driving the need. 1032. The daily routine is finished and boy did I ever thrash the kitchen last night (and this morning). Wow. I’ve been doing my best to minimize the amount of items that actually need to be washed in the interest of saving water. Sometimes, though, I do a lot of prep work or cooking in the evening and following morning, and that means using more water. The paper plates need to be stocked soon. I don’t mind spending a bit of money in order to lower water usage. Anyway, I’m going to have lunch (unlike yesterday) and sit here for a while before tackling more housework. I ran the first load of dry cleaning and will finish it when I’m done eating. I need to see her again, and the way she appeared that one fucking day when I lost my mind. I am fucking desperate to see her. Not even Nora’s beauty or Jessica’s chiclets can suppress such a deep desire to see that morsel again. Ever since the vision from months ago, I can’t get the image out of my head. Somewhere around that same time, there had been an occurrence that I cannot fully detail here, but believe me... It was the most powerful pull imaginable and a test I have failed more often than I would care to admit. On that occasion, I passed with flying colors, thank the maker. And keep in mind that everything regarding this topic is going to remain so fucking veiled that no one will have a clue as to what I am referring. This is the way things must be. Believe me, I’d love to spill it all right here on the site. Just believe it. There was a time when the draw upon my senses hit a high point, and shortly thereafter things went downhill so quickly that my brain could barely keep up. I really had to stretch myself in order to affect repairs and then move on in life. The glaring positive here is that I’ve learned to remain precisely where I reside and leave everything alone. The alternative is a repeat of the most terrible period and I just can’t have that right now. My little apple cart has to stay upright despite the overwhelming pull upon my senses and the desperate need to move in one specific direction. I yearn so deeply to see the lines and know that due to such dreaming my brain falters quite often. I sit here and daydream of impossible situations and then fall into a vat of depression because reality will not allow such wonder to come to pass. My little, desperate fantasy world continues to grow. God damn do I ever need to see her. Again... Memories of being right there are driving me to dream too often for normal functioning. That is what happened yesterday. Well, the other shit with the car and groceries didn’t help my mood, but the primary catalyst remains untouchable and in the past. 1530. I put the finishing touches on the kitchen and then made one hell of a bowl of mashed potatoes for a potluck tomorrow. They are cooling, plus I cleaned up afterward. Oh, and something wondrous may take place very soon but I can’t talk about it. Typical, eh? I think I’ll relax here a while and then head to the garage for some much-needed straightening. The weather is a touch warmer, and the sunshine is keeping the house comfortable. I won’t be out there long, though, and part of the reason is a switching of the motorcycle for another. The stored bike is going to the City for repair and another will be taking its place until the work is completed. I really don’t mind storing it here, either. My neighbor is a great guy and I like to help. God damn does Nicole have a pair of lips. Jesus. Anyway, we help each other when necessary and then enjoy some garage relaxation when schedules and time permit. Well, those along with warmer temperatures. There does not seem to be anything powerful enough to push away the memories most of the time, the resulting emotions often being pushed to ruin my otherwise peaceful days. I also believe that the time which has elapsed since the damaging essay many years ago has both inflamed my condition and added to the memories, some good and some bad. Five years ago I did not lose my shit upon gazing at lines as I do these days. The last occasion was mere days ago and I went around the fucking world trying to articulate my feelings with words, an impossible process. The passage of time quite often causes any internal malfunctions to worsen without any help, and that is what has happened to me. That girl the other day drove me fucking INSANE and I literally ceased everything because my brain lost the ability to calculate a damned thing. The situation continues to worsen, as well. The ups are shortening in duration and the downs are taking all that time. I first shifted the site direction toward my obsession more than eight fucking years ago. Think about that. Two years later was that fateful entry when I thought I was going to lose my mind. Think on that one, as well. Nothing from the car dealership today means they needed time to acquire the part and perform the repair. Hopefully the process won’t take more than a few days. I need my cozy car back in the driveway, if for nothing more than to at least feel like I can go somewhere. I haven’t traveled past the sidewalk in more than two weeks. Laugh it up. I just missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Yep, that same pair of legs just went by and I had a chance to see her walking while wrapped in jeans. Damn it. 1700 now, straight up. Everything is finished, including my brain. Melted. I missed her, for fuck’s sake. Something has to change, but what? Do you have the answer? I didn’t think so. I don’t know if the motorcycle exchange is going to happen today. No big deal, though. I’m always here. In preparation for a possible tiny social hour, I went out there and did some organization, stored a few items and grabbed a filter for the furnace that will be replaced tomorrow. The garage is in decent order right now. If the bikes are switched, at least the area is squared away and ready for a guest or two. I knew she was going to walk by because I saw her heading out of the court a while earlier while I was in the garage. I knew at some point she would return from the same direction, meaning from this chair I could have seen every fucking line on display. This is the saddest state of affairs in memory. Saddest, without a doubt. I’ve never been so full of turmoil and torment. Nearly a year has passed since the first dream and I continue the same slow decline. Just imagine my joy in knowing that she was going to pass by in jeans, and my first thought of gazing across the street from this window through field glasses (like I did the other day). Think about that shit for a moment. And then think some more. I even reconnected the camera to my new phone and had it in position for advance notice that she would pass. The camera has a wider view, so once she was visible on the left-hand display, I would have time to grab the glasses and focus. There it is, cut and dry. I am a basket case, now more than ever. I truly cannot remember ever feeling so fucked in the head. I need to change the subject. 0808 on Friday morning with coffee and my deranged friends on the right-hand display. I need this type of morning today, too. Peace and quiet combined with time to think help me through most days. There are still moments when I don’t know what to do and begin to go a little nuts, but the fact that I am here every day with only a small amount of responsibilities is truly wonderful. Ah, fuck shit damn crap anyway... Speaking of going nuts, I just saw her for a few seconds. Black pants again. Fuck, is she ever gorgeous. Anyway, I was in the garage rather late last night for the motorcycle delivery. Everything is squared away on that front. Later today, I need to go to my other neighbor’s house to change a projection lamp in her television. That is no big deal. I may also spend a little time helping with one of the bikes next door. For the bulk of the hours ahead, I am going to sit here and work on myself. I need to see her, yet at the same time I wish I hadn’t this morning. I’m already all fucked up over yesterday. More shit on the pile is not good. Niall just completely fucked over Nora. Damn him, but I do understand. Her eyes looked huge and beautiful just prior to Niall slamming her with light. Yikes. I need more problems right now like I need another fucking hole in my head. Oh, I forgot. What I want or need doesn’t fucking matter in the least. I just keep seeing things and recalling those beautiful situations of the past, and then I sit here at this machine and try to understand why everything makes me so damned desperate all the time. There is one certainty about which I can’t do anything, so that is that. At least I know it. As for the rest, well... I’ll probably never get anywhere with this crap and just remain here until something bad takes place. The one item of which I am aware is causing more pain than I can handle at times, especially considering the issues already at work and how they all relate to each other. Desperation is one thing about which I can do exactly nothing, and I am beginning to see the future will be more of everything bad, all of it heightened by feeling the first word of this sentence far too deeply. I keep stating that this is a bad time and/or I don’t know what to do each day, both for good reason. I am completely fucking lost right now. A few years ago I did not consider this type of situation. I suppose I had no prior reason to think in such a manner, and now the idea has been drifting around inside my head since early last year. The fact that there is almost nothing I can do about this has become more frustrating than I’d care to admit. Believe it or not, there is the possibility of someone helping me (no one in particular, though) but I can’t reach in any direction right now because that would require speaking about what has been happening inside me. I will not accept a pair of ears. Not even close. The fact that I could reach out is simply a truism. It does not mean that I am willing to do anything different in my life. This has little to do with feeling so desperate to be where I need, yet one can affect the other, I suppose. I can’t wish it away and I can’t return to those times when I felt happiness. I just have to fucking lump it, as my dad used to say. I’ve never known what that means but it seems to fit for whatever reason. One of these days this shit is going to become too much for me to bear. I don’t know when, however. I just know that the levels of desperation and anger that I feel each day are increasing. The world is not aligned with the idea of either of those emotions diminishing. That fact leaves only one direction in life. And yes, I am serious. 0908. The coffee is nearly gone. Yesterday I avoided anything more than the typical morning cocktail due to the shit I caused two days ago. I can learn, sometimes. Anyway, today will follow suit because I need to feel accomplished by close of business hours. Other than feeling very sad and angry, I don’t see issues getting through the day without imploding. Time will tell, as usual. One important point for me these days is to avoid anything beyond the typical morning drink. Number two may be fine, but beyond that I will become too angry and reckless for my own good. 1239. My daily routine is finished. I’ve been going around and around with the home theatre audio bullshit again. I still have no solid conclusion other than adding equipment in order to gain frequency control over one or more channels. Every idea seems to run into a roadblock, and that includes the most elaborate change, which is eliminating the streaming interface and adding a computer. Perhaps if I continue to think about the issue I will come up with something straightforward and inexpensive. Until then, the status quo shall remain. The bottom line is that I have not been able to come up with an effective solution that does not involve much money or effort. The house is quiet and mellow today. I need this atmosphere, too. The home theatre audio issue aside, there are plenty of difficulties plaguing my head lately, and the peaceful nature of this house during the daytime hours is quite often all I have. On days like earlier this week when I hit an angry wall and went through the day dwelling too much on issues, something has to keep me anchored to the positives, and that connection is being home. The situation is highly advantageous considering my weakened condition and desperate nature. My apple cart has to remain upright or I’ll create some kind of damage from which there will not be an easy return. I dreamed of having this much free time for nearly a decade, and even after enjoying it for almost three years now, I still appreciate each moment. I really do. Still no word on my car. Ugh. At least I know the process was approved. Maybe the part they had to order is slow to arrive. Whatever. Eventually, my vehicle will be right here at home and this issue will be in the past. I just need to be patient. Last night I put on one of the big three films from the early aughts that held tremendous wonder. We watched all three on their respective opening days and at the big dome. That was literally the heyday for that theatre and I miss it every time I am reminded of the place. The atmosphere of seeing a premiere was magical and many others felt the same way. The theatre is another hurtful memory, yet it is unrelated to the rest. Sometimes I can’t help but get into one of those films and daydream about how wondrous the process of spending time there had been. Everything was different, and I realized last night that though I’d seen films in the domes dating back to the mid-seventies, the ignition of my current fire was during the year of ninety-six. I will not go on about it, but trust me when I say that as my buddy and I exited the half-circle snack bar and moved around the outer edge to enter the auditorium, I gazed at the size and shape of the screen and saw it as if I never had before, and then turned toward the projection booth so see more than nine hundred seats nearly facing my position. I was floored and never recovered. From that point forward, each premiere found me living outside that theatre like it was a second home. Well, things have changed and I’ve only seen one film in a theatre since the year of thirteen. If anything can make me sadder than I already was, this is it. An entire lifestyle is gone. Not good. Memories of all kinds have me desperate for anything capable of breeding joy. Beauty is but one facet of an overarching theme of loss. A vision unlike any other, and I am not talking about a theatre. A vision from beyond comprehension. I saw it and will not recover for some time. Amazing, striking, and unexpected. I was not prepared for what crossed my eyesight and now keep seeing it play over and over inside my head. I could not have asked for as much. Now I don’t know what to do. When the phone rings, I will need to head down the street a bit and replace the projection lamp in a friend’s television, yet the entire time I will be seeing something else... Something more powerful than I could have imagined prior to last year. I only wished. This evening is going to be warm, quiet and peaceful. Just what I need right now. I am further damaged, more desperate, and much sadder than just an hour ago. The only path that can save me now is to embrace whatever can occupy my thoughts, be that large or small. This is a bad time, and getting worse. 1630. I am waiting for the phone to ring. Nothing else is on my horizon. Wonderful memories, all very much detached now. They are causing me to feel desperation related to much more than beauty. The more I see and dream, the further down I travel. I am wondering where the bottom is, or when I may locate it. I don’t know. The little things still help, though. Unfortunately, they are diminishing as quickly as my ability to remain even the tiniest bit positive."
The Desperation of Memory
Mature content No. 363 Published March 3rd, 2023 4:39pm pst read ( words) Past entries
"‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ I love it. 1300 straight up. Laundry is finished and lunch is out of the way. I called to check on the car and apparently they are still waiting on some information from the warranty company. Unbelievable. Sometimes I say no news is good news, but I am beginning to feel a bit impatient with the coverage. This situation with the repair should be very straightforward. The dealership is doing its best to communicate with me, too. I will probably hear from them this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Today marks two weeks without my vehicle of freedom, damn it. Hopefully by tomorrow everything will be fine because I need the car here and at my disposal. In the meantime, I am hoping to see the camera bag arrive on the porch. I could use a distraction. One huge plus right now is that the new phone is everything I had hoped, and more. The battery life is incredible, as is the speed of the processor. Gone are the network issues I experienced with its predecessor. Any positives these days go a long way to helping me remain even-keeled, and the phone is definitely far up the list. Holy crap is Nora ever beautifully unique. Damn. I may head into the kitchen in a while and prepare dinner beforehand, only to heat it this evening. Once business hours are over, I like to relax on the sofa with a drink and watch one of my shows on the television. The cold weather lately finds me in need of cozy warmth at night, and if I get everything together prior to that time, I can more easily time the dinner and spend more of my evening off my feet. For whatever reason, I seem to be more motivated toward earlier kitchen work rather than after dark. Today could be ideal for such a method. Moreover, I can have my friends keeping me company the entire time. They are more important than ever. I am still waiting for the camera bag, too. When it arrives, I’ll have a project for both today and tomorrow. I am looking forward to seeing it almost as much as I desire seeing her again. Ugh. There is another Jamie who appears in a handful of episodes of this program. She has three key features that drive me fucking nuts sometimes. God damn would I ever love to climb into her shirt. Oh, and here is one of my favorite scenes. Russell is a supremely evil sonuvabitch, but still a badass villain and an incredible character. 1655. So, I finished most of the dinner preparations and have everything ready to cook later. That means my evening will be more relaxing. Nice. I also cleaned up after the kitchen work. I want to kiss Nora so bad sometimes. Jesus crap and everything else, she is amazing. Ugh. Whatever. Anyway, I mentioned doing some work for dinner in order to free my evening a bit because it is important these days. Just like mornings, I need to have a certain repeatable comfort for a while or I don’t feel well inside. Working in the kitchen is still as appealing as it was two-plus years ago, as well, so when I’m in there doing whatever and my friends are keeping me company, a familiar solace washes over me. To call me a creature of habit is a gross understatement. This is what being home for nearly three years has done to me after almost a decade of dreaming of such a situation. I still have plenty of unresolvable issues, yet the comfort of being here helps. In the beginning and just after I installed the television in the kitchen, much of the wonder was following along with my favorite stories while cleaning. Prior to the television, my typical method was to don the wireless MDRs or blast music from the office. I have to say that the feeling of being in the kitchen while watching my friends as they go on adventures is unequaled in my history. Another push is the fact that I first began to embrace music while cleaning way back when I lived in the Midwest. That was my D-555 coupled with the mighty V6s. I began to use the music to keep me company that far back. Now I am so deep in the fantasy of my television shows that there is no going back. And to wrap the opening of this paragraph to its close, my morning quiet time at the computer and the evening on the sofa are nearly as critical to my survival. Jolaimora. The name of the condition. Believe it. Reality is no longer acceptable, nor does it hold enough sway to keep me alive. 0736 on Wednesday morning. Today is the first of March. That means we will be switching to daylight saving time soon. No, not ‘savings’ time. ‘Saving’. I am at the control center for the duration this morning. Ordering some staples may be on the schedule today, plus a bit more office work and my typical stuff. I have much thinking to do on this day because I really surprised myself yesterday afternoon and again this morning with the way I dealt with an issue that seems to be growing in importance. I have to think, period. I believe if I run the fourth show in the background as I work in the house today, my head might relax enough to better understand everything. I just caught a glimpse of the morsel. Damn. I am a basket case. 1035. My routine is finished and I have a fatass cocktail sitting to my right just below the vampire program. One interesting item today is that I placed an order to be delivered from the market. Since my car is still in the hospital, I wanted to grab a few staples and the first delivery is free, plus I had a code for twenty dollars off. That’s pretty good. Once the car is back, I will not need to order things to be delivered, but on this occasion there are some products that are required for daily meals and such. I may also order from the big-box store that is not far from the airport. That would be fantastic and save us a trip. Again, the first delivery is free. Not bad. There is something wrong with my left knee – the very same that I injured many years ago – and the feeling is that I need to remain off my feet for some hours today. Since my daily stuff is finished, I have the hours ahead to myself, and that means I can take it easy if necessary. Holy Christ is Nora ever beautiful... More every time I see her. Fuck. And? Lilith is disgusting and gorgeous at the same time. Don’t ask. Anyway, I’d like to tool around with the camera bag today, as well as care for some things that have been dormant, yet my knee might keep me immobile for quite some time. The upside is my schedule is completely under my control, as is the atmosphere inside the house nearly all of the time. I really need this quiet time today, both due to my fucked up knee and the memories in my head. Jessica’s chiclets are apparent. I love the chicles, yet have no idea of why, much like many other fascinations in life. Where was I? Ah... Being home today is very important for my peace of mind. I have the time and space to do whatever seems best or therapeutic. At 1107 – just a moment ago – I switched from the video media to the music of life. My mood is all over the map today. The morning drink is gone, too. I don’t know what that means aside from the fact that I miss the little sipper, but a second drink before evening is probably not a good idea. Supporting that statement is my messed up knee. Having another cocktail could find me reckless and I may further inflame whatever is going on. I can’t have that right now. Water is the path. This music always causes me to recall my time with Her and those emotional conversations we shared. It also brings back thoughts of escape and the wonder of exploring unknown places (albeit very comfortable settings, for sure). Throughout the past three years I have crafted a place to live that aligns with long periods of toil and dreaming of being free of such environments. Some of my visions were so harsh that no one, not even the Raven, agreed to such living conditions. I remember all the way back when I worked at the parts house and gazed at necessary components for a long, arduous and risky journey to the north. I used to calculate what I would need for such a trip and made plans for routes and whatnot. I wanted to escape from the doldrums of work and residing within an apathetic society, eventually leading me to believe that the only way to find a peaceful destination was to head for places that typical humans did not consider comfortable, but I was willing. And though I made my escape a few times and ran to what I needed, none of those trips were along the lines of what I had dreamed during the mid-nineties. I visited big cities within which I could disappear due to not knowing anyone, save for whatever beautiful soul was along for the ride. The last potential effort was during fifteen when the Raven and I nearly took off for the foothills out of a desperate desire to leave Bay Area society behind. That journey never took place, obviously, but the thought was very enticing at the time. Christ knows where I would be right now had we actually left town. I listen to these compositions and recall each occasion when I had become completely disillusioned and yearned for simplicity and solace. The music also pushes me to drink more than usual. Why? Because I am unhappy, depressed, and desperate to either relive those times or create new ones.
Most of the reason I avoid speaking with others about my feelings is out of fear. No, not the damaging dreams and the mass of desire they have created, but the fear of being placated. I simply cannot accept a person trivializing my depression or emotional condition. This is why everything remains bottled up and closed off to the world. Many years ago I feared not being taken seriously, and such a state is still apparent. It is another contributing factor in me remaining completely closed off. The keyboard does not judge me or dismiss anything I feel or have to say. I just keep typing. One of the biggest factors in how I live out my days right now is the idea that I am so fucking different from a few years ago. I look out the window and cannot begin to understand a ‘typical’ lifestyle. I see others out there driving to and from work, taking their dogs for a walk, or engaging in some other behavior and all of it is now alien to me. All I do is stay inside and avoid everything, save for the occasional shopping trips. If I am alone all the time, I need not worry about what another person may think of me. I have effectively dumped ninety-five percent of my previous way of life. Put another way, let me tell you that since the beginning of this year, I’ve already nearly doubled the amount of writing that I performed throughout the first thirteen years of this site. Eleven thousand lines. Speaking with people about anything has become so fucking alien that I may never understand such a fact. My need to remain alone has increased tenfold since last year alone. This is not good. At least being alone all the time means I have control over what causes that same fear. Better than nothing, I suppose. The pull of alcohol is very strong right now. I must resist or risk paying the consquences. Sometime during the last several days – I don’t recall which entry – I mentioned all those things I’ve done; the space program, appearances in documentaries and the news, and other accomplishments. Well, all of it is long gone. Now I sit here and type for a good portion of each day and amount to very little. My entire existence has been altered to the point of being completely unrecognizable when compared to years ago. I used to think I was heading toward ‘something’, whereas now I am going nowhere. There can be little doubt of such a conclusion anymore. I don’t fucking do anything unless it is pressing. I don’t even know what all this shit means. Memories take over too often for me to maintain any semblance of direction anymore. I take care of the daily routine and sometimes go a bit further, but unlike years ago, there is nothing on the horizon. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I have been in contact with precisely two individuals so far this calendar year, not counting the dinner for my birthday which I would have avoided if I were a colder person. When I rise from bed in the morning, I look forward to feeding the cats and brewing coffee. And then I take care of the early business. And then I return to this table until the coffee is gone. And then the routine takes a bit of my time. And then? I have not one fucking clue as to how to proceed with my day. And then the evening comes along and I make dinner. And then a show or two, followed by sleep. And then the whole cycle repeats. The longer I remain in this house working on my mental and emotional condition, the further back those memories are shoved, eventually leading me to the potentially dangerous second cocktail. And then I feel physically drained throughout the rest of the day and evening. What else, you ask? I didn’t even mention the sheer power of things I may see through the window. Remember, I have field glasses next to me. Splendid. I continue to be desperate to see anything wondrous, and then I remember when that very same wonder was right in front of my stupid face. The memories are causing as much damage now as when those periods first came to pass. Desperation is dangerous, for the umpteenth time. The time is now 1226 and I have yet to hear back from the dealership about my car. At some point, the shit in my head is going to emanate from my mouth, and believe me when I say I pity the fucking person that is in front of me when it happens. There is an old saying born of anger and frustration, ‘I will not be held responsible for my actions’. Well, I will be held responsible. What’s worse is the fact that I don’t fucking care anymore. God forbid me calling the warranty company. Considering my present mood, I don't believe the exchange would leave them with a positive image of their customer. Warmer weather would be very nice right now. Ugh. I decided that a second drink is what I need this afternoon. Shoot me. I don’t care. If I end up feeling like crap I’ll go to sleep for a while. There is not one fucking aspect of this day that can hold my interest. The glass of foggy blue is glistening to my right. Beautiful. Whatever the drink may label me, I don’t care. You probably already knew that. I was right there... Directly attached to the end-all be-all of human existence, and the last bastion of endeavor in my life. The very fucking last, for sure. Right there. Um... Twice. I remember some of what took place. Not all of it, though. Some. I can’t see everything as it was on those two occasions, but I can remember the feelings and the conversation. I remember the song. I remember the room was warm. I was right fucking attached as if my very life depended upon the connection. The entirety of those emotions is now but a memory... Another in my four-dimensional file cabinet which holds everything good, and plenty of bad. Sitting here right now forces me to realize that such a fantasy cannot repeat, ever. I still can’t fucking believe those two days and the way they skewed my sense of beauty and wonder to the point of insanity. Sometimes I think the memory is ok, while during other recollections I believe quite the reverse. Those moments are gone and may yet kill me. Eight years is a long time for desperation to build, believe me. Now it is out of control. I am barely scratching the surface. There is one irrefutable cause, one underlying issue which supports the damage involved with said cause, and a subsequent atmosphere of anger, hatred and depression which cannot be alleviated by anyone, no matter the timeline. Everything has been poured and set. Everything has been permanently filed away. Nothing can change what has already been inflicted. The cause and issue have fused. I hate them both. You want more verisimilitude? Anger is real. It is the reality through which I plod every day. I cannot destroy the cause due to the passage of time, nor can I change the issue. This is all I am anymore; I’ve become something impossible to define. When I look back at the accomplishments of the past, I am seeing someone else. Not me. I am not going to swing the hammer. I am going to make people wonder about the depth of what is taking place inside me. They can ask, yet I will not answer. The hammer indicates a lousy mood and I no longer want clear indications of my feelings. Well, maybe if I can eventually acquire the proper audio, things could possibly change. Until then, however, I am closed for business. The cause is centered within my attention. And? The weather is too cold for me to spend more than a few minutes in the garage, anyway. Heh. I suspect the issue with the car repair is not the dealership, but the warranty company. Until I have my vehicle back, I shall remain businesslike and calm. Afterward, I may become highly upset. I do not wish to clog the works until my precious car is in front of the house and ready to go. I need that fucking car. My mood is going south faster than jet-propelled geese in Winter. Right now I can’t do anything about anything, and such a realization can be very frustrating. Call the guys with the butterfly nets. You can thank me later for the suggestion. This music shall heretofore be labeled ‘alcoholic music’. That is that. And I see little reason not to sit here at this control center all fucking day. Oh, God... I was right fucking there. The first time was uncomfortable, however. No matter. On the second occasion I made the point of my obsession abundantly clear, and can think in such terms these days because the obsession has changed. This is not good by any stretch of the word, trust me. Let’s just call it another realization and leave it at that. Shut up. I am watching the world go by through my office window. This is the shape of things to come, as well, because my willingness to venture out and connect with people has disappeared. They can travel to and from work, go on vacations or head out for some shopping, fuel their vehicles and socialize as they see fit, so long as I am left completely out of everything. People are no longer people to me. They are sheep. An important factor is that this is a change in me, not them. My present stance has been crafted from memories from the nineties and early zeros when I longed to be above the world and detached from a society I failed to understand. That feeling faded into the mid and late zeros, too. I had become a very squared away member of the machine and a person who accomplished much, including a house (in my name, believe it or not), my dream car, and all of the little devices and enjoyments apparent. I had much during those last few years in the valley. Much. On the inside, however, I began to yearn for realization of my obsession and closed the decade by causing so much damage that I am ashamed to admit it. But I ran... I ran toward the shine and threw away so many relationships that I can’t even begin to recall the sum. I see the world going by from my window and recall that I was a part of it. Now I am a black void on the planet. And I am sad over the fact that I can no longer identify with everyone else. Yes, I said I am sad. I may not be able to involve myself as I once did, yet there is no circumventing the fact that I did have a good life and hurt people who were completely undeserving of such behavior. The world is out there. I am here. And I shall remain as such until the end of everything. This may be the worst entry I’ve ever written. And yes, even more so than the one from seventeen. That was a symptom.
The most hurtful aspect of remaining in here for the rest of my life is that the fucking obsession is out there, somewhere beyond the window of my office. Everything is sad. I’ve stated that this new desktop computer is wonderful. It may also represent the end of me. Have I mentioned the word ‘sad’? This is all so very sad. Anyway, back to the topic of this fucking shit-show of a paragraph. My need to remain hidden away is hurting me. The obsession is the most powerful desire inside me as a person, yet if I do not travel beyond the six-thousand foot parcel of this property, it shall forever remain nothing more than a dream. And another point is that the dream is quite often unreal, anyway. I need what I need, however that does not mean that my needs can come to fruition or be satiated in any way. Do you understand? My perception has become so fucking distorted beyond reality that there exists a distinct possibility that the chances are far from feasible. In the last year alone, I’ve been exposed to aspects of beauty that had not been considered prior to the damaging dreams. And now I am all fucked up over that aspect and cannot discuss the subject with anyone. I am slowly making the decision to hide away for all time, and that means I am cutting myself off from both the assistance of anyone who may be able to help as well as the objects of my obsession. I am beginning to feel as if this is going in circles. A clarification may be that if I close myself off from the rest of the world, I am also closing myself off from the possibility of realizing there could be an example of my obsession out there somewhere who may actually repeat what has taken place in the past. Ah, God damn this anyway. I can’t maintain a clear line of thinking right now. Maybe it’s the booze and maybe it’s my head, but I don’t see an outlet from this fucking paragraph that can accomplish what I need. I will say that I am pretty fucking angry right now, and the emotion may be stunting my ability to articulate feelings. I see things through the window and realize I am further away from them than what the tape measure may reveal. Is that better? 1409. Third cocktail. And you don’t have to say it. I realize that given my past track record of drinking this much on a weekday the practice is ill-advised, yet I am not feeling like doing anything correctly today, nor do I care about how bad things may become as a result. I have the alcoholic music of life still playing and fully intend to sit right fucking here for the duration, meaning everything else must be shoved to the rear. Sometimes I just can’t help but be destructive and depressed. Leave it alone, please. I feel like shit anyway, so I may as well let myself fall into a pit of despair. I am absolutely dying to share this mood with someone. Dying. No one is listening, though. I need help. The grocery delivery window has opened. This will be the deciding factor in any future orders. I hope they come through. Today is not the day for anything to go awry, believe me. Actually, I am halfway through the window. For the love of Christ, please don’t allow this to be another negative aspect of my already shitty mood. If and when I decide to swing the hammer again, I really need to ramp up the haunting nature of the music I choose. The garage is already awash with murals that keep people away, yet I know I can do better by dropping a pill on the tongues of those who believe this house is a likely candidate of salesmanship. Bring it to me, please. I need an example right now. This afternoon has shown me that I reside at the hind end of communication. As much as I wish to remain behind this window and quiet, there is a part of me that needs some fucking satisfaction. I am many things, but not a fucking idiot. 1511. The grocery order arrived exactly one minute before the window closed. That is no big deal because I am here all the time anyway. Unfortunately, there were three items missing, so I had to go through the process of notifying the store and now must wait for a refund. Those three just happened to be the most expensive of the entire order. Shit. Whatever. I can deal with it. I don’t want anyone unknowing of my current mental condition to end up the recipient of thirty years’ worth of shit, though. Missing items can always be rectified, yet my mood knows no cure. This is becoming a red-letter day with regard to my entire fucking life. I did receive a message from the dealership that the repair was approved, though. That is good because I am positioned dead centered in my need to put someone on a pedestal so everyone can see them torn down in a most hideous manner. This is bad. My anger is at an all-time high. What a shitty day. And I have to tone down the mood and make nice at close of business? That is going to be a difficult stretch for me right now. Very difficult, indeed. I must lash out, yet there is no available direction. God damn it. I swear as I sit in this chair, I will dress to defy the cold and move to my garage for no other reason than to lash out at the world in the only way I can anymore. Ah, God. It was meaningful to Her. Meaningful. Everyone else has been nothing more than some errant vessel and repository for the waves of life. She knew... She understood the importance. She really did. No one has achieved such a position in so many years that attempting to recall the number only inflames my madness. It was meaningful to Her. Why did She have to leave? The rest of my day is fucked. And a clue as to the full situation in my brain just walked by on the sidewalk across the street. Yep... I grabbed the field glasses and pulled clear focus of her fucking lines, too. I really did. The time is nigh for me to be permanently labeled. She was a clue. I needed to see those lines so closely that something else may accompany the sight. Read that again. She was a clue to the entire shitaree. I lost my train of thought roughly seven milliseconds after noticing her black pants. Wonderful. Seven milliseconds, and believe me when I say that I have the background to understand time referenced down that far. Three more and I wanted to plant my lips to what was inside those fucking pants. I am ruined. The obsession is death. She walked by a second time with a doggie in tow and my needs became dire. Did I state that I am ruined? Cease your doubt of what I have become. Cease your doubt. Believe me when I say that approaching my garage these days is not a good idea. This shit is going to come to one hell of a head soon. I have stated that on many occasions, but believe me, everything continues to build inside my head and there will be a detonation. God fucking damn did I want that girl’s tenderness glued to my lips. Fuck. And? Fuck you. Shut up. The time is now 1648 and I have been in front of this machine for nearly the entire day. Nothing else held enough to pull me away other than the occasional smoke break in the garage. Twice now I have strolled out there and blasted the same track over the mighty audio system. There is probably nothing more for me today aside from preparing dinner and sitting on my cozy loveseat in front of the big television. The routine is all I accomplished today and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. I just don’t fucking care anymore. Perhaps tomorrow will be the opposite. I have all the time in the world these days. 0800 and the quiet time has begun. I have coffee, too. The last cup, though. I had to finish the early business prior to relaxing this morning. Jessica’s chiclets have been all over the fucking screen for the last several minutes. Damn. And I just missed out on something for fuck’s sake. I wish that had not happened. Whatever. Anyway, I fully intend to maintain my mood today after yesterday’s booze-fueled bullshit. I am going to be more productive, too. Just little things, I guess. There is no reason to flip out and try to cram too much into one day. I can take care of everything and go a bit further without pushing. I’ll have an easy time making up for yesterday. For the time being, I need to consider my feelings toward my obsession and the way it has shaped behaviors recently. Everything seems to be expanding and amplifying these days. I don’t understand, although there is a detail I mentioned not long ago that points to one definite cause of feeling so much desperation all the time. I know that much, yet cannot reveal it on the site. The bottom line is though I know of that one detail, there are plenty of other fucking shitty situations in my head that will not let up. I have to keep working on this. A good portion of this day will be spent toward such an end. Oh, Nora. Hold me, please. I need it. My head keeps going back in time to that wondrous, beautiful memory when I felt I was actually attached to a person with the answers. That day showed me just how fucking desperate I had become, and regardless of how blown up everything was inside my head, somehow I still knew that the world was off kilter and sideways. Now, every time I see a certain pair of eyes and begin to become smitten, I feel that same deep-seated need to be held and understood. The memory of that day is killing me. I am desperate for the right type of connection and memories are driving the need.
1032. The daily routine is finished and boy did I ever thrash the kitchen last night (and this morning). Wow. I’ve been doing my best to minimize the amount of items that actually need to be washed in the interest of saving water. Sometimes, though, I do a lot of prep work or cooking in the evening and following morning, and that means using more water. The paper plates need to be stocked soon. I don’t mind spending a bit of money in order to lower water usage. Anyway, I’m going to have lunch (unlike yesterday) and sit here for a while before tackling more housework. I ran the first load of dry cleaning and will finish it when I’m done eating. I need to see her again, and the way she appeared that one fucking day when I lost my mind. I am fucking desperate to see her. Not even Nora’s beauty or Jessica’s chiclets can suppress such a deep desire to see that morsel again. Ever since the vision from months ago, I can’t get the image out of my head. Somewhere around that same time, there had been an occurrence that I cannot fully detail here, but believe me... It was the most powerful pull imaginable and a test I have failed more often than I would care to admit. On that occasion, I passed with flying colors, thank the maker. And keep in mind that everything regarding this topic is going to remain so fucking veiled that no one will have a clue as to what I am referring. This is the way things must be. Believe me, I’d love to spill it all right here on the site. Just believe it. There was a time when the draw upon my senses hit a high point, and shortly thereafter things went downhill so quickly that my brain could barely keep up. I really had to stretch myself in order to affect repairs and then move on in life. The glaring positive here is that I’ve learned to remain precisely where I reside and leave everything alone. The alternative is a repeat of the most terrible period and I just can’t have that right now. My little apple cart has to stay upright despite the overwhelming pull upon my senses and the desperate need to move in one specific direction. I yearn so deeply to see the lines and know that due to such dreaming my brain falters quite often. I sit here and daydream of impossible situations and then fall into a vat of depression because reality will not allow such wonder to come to pass. My little, desperate fantasy world continues to grow. God damn do I ever need to see her. Again... Memories of being right there are driving me to dream too often for normal functioning. That is what happened yesterday. Well, the other shit with the car and groceries didn’t help my mood, but the primary catalyst remains untouchable and in the past. 1530. I put the finishing touches on the kitchen and then made one hell of a bowl of mashed potatoes for a potluck tomorrow. They are cooling, plus I cleaned up afterward. Oh, and something wondrous may take place very soon but I can’t talk about it. Typical, eh? I think I’ll relax here a while and then head to the garage for some much-needed straightening. The weather is a touch warmer, and the sunshine is keeping the house comfortable. I won’t be out there long, though, and part of the reason is a switching of the motorcycle for another. The stored bike is going to the City for repair and another will be taking its place until the work is completed. I really don’t mind storing it here, either. My neighbor is a great guy and I like to help. God damn does Nicole have a pair of lips. Jesus. Anyway, we help each other when necessary and then enjoy some garage relaxation when schedules and time permit. Well, those along with warmer temperatures. There does not seem to be anything powerful enough to push away the memories most of the time, the resulting emotions often being pushed to ruin my otherwise peaceful days. I also believe that the time which has elapsed since the damaging essay many years ago has both inflamed my condition and added to the memories, some good and some bad. Five years ago I did not lose my shit upon gazing at lines as I do these days. The last occasion was mere days ago and I went around the fucking world trying to articulate my feelings with words, an impossible process. The passage of time quite often causes any internal malfunctions to worsen without any help, and that is what has happened to me. That girl the other day drove me fucking INSANE and I literally ceased everything because my brain lost the ability to calculate a damned thing. The situation continues to worsen, as well. The ups are shortening in duration and the downs are taking all that time. I first shifted the site direction toward my obsession more than eight fucking years ago. Think about that. Two years later was that fateful entry when I thought I was going to lose my mind. Think on that one, as well. Nothing from the car dealership today means they needed time to acquire the part and perform the repair. Hopefully the process won’t take more than a few days. I need my cozy car back in the driveway, if for nothing more than to at least feel like I can go somewhere. I haven’t traveled past the sidewalk in more than two weeks. Laugh it up. I just missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Yep, that same pair of legs just went by and I had a chance to see her walking while wrapped in jeans. Damn it. 1700 now, straight up. Everything is finished, including my brain. Melted. I missed her, for fuck’s sake. Something has to change, but what? Do you have the answer? I didn’t think so. I don’t know if the motorcycle exchange is going to happen today. No big deal, though. I’m always here. In preparation for a possible tiny social hour, I went out there and did some organization, stored a few items and grabbed a filter for the furnace that will be replaced tomorrow. The garage is in decent order right now. If the bikes are switched, at least the area is squared away and ready for a guest or two. I knew she was going to walk by because I saw her heading out of the court a while earlier while I was in the garage. I knew at some point she would return from the same direction, meaning from this chair I could have seen every fucking line on display. This is the saddest state of affairs in memory. Saddest, without a doubt. I’ve never been so full of turmoil and torment. Nearly a year has passed since the first dream and I continue the same slow decline. Just imagine my joy in knowing that she was going to pass by in jeans, and my first thought of gazing across the street from this window through field glasses (like I did the other day). Think about that shit for a moment. And then think some more. I even reconnected the camera to my new phone and had it in position for advance notice that she would pass. The camera has a wider view, so once she was visible on the left-hand display, I would have time to grab the glasses and focus. There it is, cut and dry. I am a basket case, now more than ever. I truly cannot remember ever feeling so fucked in the head. I need to change the subject. 0808 on Friday morning with coffee and my deranged friends on the right-hand display. I need this type of morning today, too. Peace and quiet combined with time to think help me through most days. There are still moments when I don’t know what to do and begin to go a little nuts, but the fact that I am here every day with only a small amount of responsibilities is truly wonderful. Ah, fuck shit damn crap anyway... Speaking of going nuts, I just saw her for a few seconds. Black pants again. Fuck, is she ever gorgeous. Anyway, I was in the garage rather late last night for the motorcycle delivery. Everything is squared away on that front. Later today, I need to go to my other neighbor’s house to change a projection lamp in her television. That is no big deal. I may also spend a little time helping with one of the bikes next door. For the bulk of the hours ahead, I am going to sit here and work on myself. I need to see her, yet at the same time I wish I hadn’t this morning. I’m already all fucked up over yesterday. More shit on the pile is not good. Niall just completely fucked over Nora. Damn him, but I do understand. Her eyes looked huge and beautiful just prior to Niall slamming her with light. Yikes.
I need more problems right now like I need another fucking hole in my head. Oh, I forgot. What I want or need doesn’t fucking matter in the least. I just keep seeing things and recalling those beautiful situations of the past, and then I sit here at this machine and try to understand why everything makes me so damned desperate all the time. There is one certainty about which I can’t do anything, so that is that. At least I know it. As for the rest, well... I’ll probably never get anywhere with this crap and just remain here until something bad takes place. The one item of which I am aware is causing more pain than I can handle at times, especially considering the issues already at work and how they all relate to each other. Desperation is one thing about which I can do exactly nothing, and I am beginning to see the future will be more of everything bad, all of it heightened by feeling the first word of this sentence far too deeply. I keep stating that this is a bad time and/or I don’t know what to do each day, both for good reason. I am completely fucking lost right now. A few years ago I did not consider this type of situation. I suppose I had no prior reason to think in such a manner, and now the idea has been drifting around inside my head since early last year. The fact that there is almost nothing I can do about this has become more frustrating than I’d care to admit. Believe it or not, there is the possibility of someone helping me (no one in particular, though) but I can’t reach in any direction right now because that would require speaking about what has been happening inside me. I will not accept a pair of ears. Not even close. The fact that I could reach out is simply a truism. It does not mean that I am willing to do anything different in my life. This has little to do with feeling so desperate to be where I need, yet one can affect the other, I suppose. I can’t wish it away and I can’t return to those times when I felt happiness. I just have to fucking lump it, as my dad used to say. I’ve never known what that means but it seems to fit for whatever reason. One of these days this shit is going to become too much for me to bear. I don’t know when, however. I just know that the levels of desperation and anger that I feel each day are increasing. The world is not aligned with the idea of either of those emotions diminishing. That fact leaves only one direction in life. And yes, I am serious. 0908. The coffee is nearly gone. Yesterday I avoided anything more than the typical morning cocktail due to the shit I caused two days ago. I can learn, sometimes. Anyway, today will follow suit because I need to feel accomplished by close of business hours. Other than feeling very sad and angry, I don’t see issues getting through the day without imploding. Time will tell, as usual. One important point for me these days is to avoid anything beyond the typical morning drink. Number two may be fine, but beyond that I will become too angry and reckless for my own good. 1239. My daily routine is finished. I’ve been going around and around with the home theatre audio bullshit again. I still have no solid conclusion other than adding equipment in order to gain frequency control over one or more channels. Every idea seems to run into a roadblock, and that includes the most elaborate change, which is eliminating the streaming interface and adding a computer. Perhaps if I continue to think about the issue I will come up with something straightforward and inexpensive. Until then, the status quo shall remain. The bottom line is that I have not been able to come up with an effective solution that does not involve much money or effort. The house is quiet and mellow today. I need this atmosphere, too. The home theatre audio issue aside, there are plenty of difficulties plaguing my head lately, and the peaceful nature of this house during the daytime hours is quite often all I have. On days like earlier this week when I hit an angry wall and went through the day dwelling too much on issues, something has to keep me anchored to the positives, and that connection is being home. The situation is highly advantageous considering my weakened condition and desperate nature. My apple cart has to remain upright or I’ll create some kind of damage from which there will not be an easy return. I dreamed of having this much free time for nearly a decade, and even after enjoying it for almost three years now, I still appreciate each moment. I really do. Still no word on my car. Ugh. At least I know the process was approved. Maybe the part they had to order is slow to arrive. Whatever. Eventually, my vehicle will be right here at home and this issue will be in the past. I just need to be patient. Last night I put on one of the big three films from the early aughts that held tremendous wonder. We watched all three on their respective opening days and at the big dome. That was literally the heyday for that theatre and I miss it every time I am reminded of the place. The atmosphere of seeing a premiere was magical and many others felt the same way. The theatre is another hurtful memory, yet it is unrelated to the rest. Sometimes I can’t help but get into one of those films and daydream about how wondrous the process of spending time there had been. Everything was different, and I realized last night that though I’d seen films in the domes dating back to the mid-seventies, the ignition of my current fire was during the year of ninety-six. I will not go on about it, but trust me when I say that as my buddy and I exited the half-circle snack bar and moved around the outer edge to enter the auditorium, I gazed at the size and shape of the screen and saw it as if I never had before, and then turned toward the projection booth so see more than nine hundred seats nearly facing my position. I was floored and never recovered. From that point forward, each premiere found me living outside that theatre like it was a second home. Well, things have changed and I’ve only seen one film in a theatre since the year of thirteen. If anything can make me sadder than I already was, this is it. An entire lifestyle is gone. Not good. Memories of all kinds have me desperate for anything capable of breeding joy. Beauty is but one facet of an overarching theme of loss. A vision unlike any other, and I am not talking about a theatre. A vision from beyond comprehension. I saw it and will not recover for some time. Amazing, striking, and unexpected. I was not prepared for what crossed my eyesight and now keep seeing it play over and over inside my head. I could not have asked for as much. Now I don’t know what to do. When the phone rings, I will need to head down the street a bit and replace the projection lamp in a friend’s television, yet the entire time I will be seeing something else... Something more powerful than I could have imagined prior to last year. I only wished. This evening is going to be warm, quiet and peaceful. Just what I need right now. I am further damaged, more desperate, and much sadder than just an hour ago. The only path that can save me now is to embrace whatever can occupy my thoughts, be that large or small. This is a bad time, and getting worse. 1630. I am waiting for the phone to ring. Nothing else is on my horizon. Wonderful memories, all very much detached now. They are causing me to feel desperation related to much more than beauty. The more I see and dream, the further down I travel. I am wondering where the bottom is, or when I may locate it. I don’t know. The little things still help, though. Unfortunately, they are diminishing as quickly as my ability to remain even the tiniest bit positive."
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