Doctrine, et Alia Mature content No. 372 Published May 11th, 2023 9:14am pdt read ( words) Past entries "1141. Does the time matter? Sunday morning. I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night. There were situations in my head that would not leave no matter the effort. Some were related to the program we’ve been following during recent evenings, yet that story is nothing terrible. For some reason, imagery and ideas stunted my ability to relax for a long while. Thankfully, none of the other dreams invaded the night. I don’t need any more of that shit. Dreams are half the reason I am so fucked up. Those idyllic situations arise in the night and then I awaken to realize that life is not really worth it anymore. Some I do not remember, of course, yet far too many visions have developed inside me and not left for months, if not longer. The most stirring, damaging pictures upon which I dwell every single fucking day seem to be permanent. When I try to rest myself at night, all this shit comes to mind and I fear for my sleep quality. Not good. I could really use some fucking nice moments of offset all this other difficult shit. Each morning finds me a little bit more pissed off than the previous. Marvelous. Clambake. I don’t know what today has in store. The usual business awaits, of course, along with whatever else I may decide to tackle. Conversely, I may opt to do nothing beyond my typical mid-morning routine. The motivation will come to me, or it won’t. Right now I have no idea how things will progress today. The hours alone have equal chances of working for or against me. As I said above, nice things would be very good for my outlook right fucking now. They may not exist at all, unfortunately, and the more I recall being in the fold of comfort and understanding, the darker my future appears. A road with no turns? Eh... I’ve used that oversimplification too much already. If the day is to work well for me, I’ll have to be the catalyst. There is no other way. I suppose that means everything depends upon my mood. By late morning yesterday I was ready to blow up the garage and make a statement of my negative condition. Once it faded, the idea of swinging the hammer and ignoring others faded quite a bit and began to feel alien again. I don’t know what may happen inside my head later. Roll the dice. The carousel never ceases its motion. Maybe I dwell upon stirring visions for too long. The girl in the parking lot, for example, is now like some animation looping over and over inside me. She was a combination of two others, as well, and carried the most amazing sections of each. Perhaps I should not have turned after passing her. That was a mistake, I guess. I don’t know. Some overly beautiful people move around society and expect no one to look at them. That type of thinking does not compute. I looked at her and turned to see her form from the back. That is a clear indication that my desperation continues and has even grown since last year. Very bad. But why? No one is listening. I’ll probably never see her again, and I’m thinking that the likelihood of a similar form appearing in reality is pretty fucking slender, just like that girl’s legs. Whatever. Yes, I do dwell upon too much; the past, forms I’ve seen, the damaging dreams, etc. I am unhealthy in that way. I do not lift a finger to help myself very often and the effects are weighing heavily lately. I believe my concern over how this shit is shaping my future is what kept me awake last night. I could be wrong, though. Oh, God damn it all... I really wish I could actually say what I mean (and need). If I’ve become a desperate fool for the visions, just imagine how I must feel about needing the right type of understanding. That’s a bad one. Again... Into the past I go... Ashley was the beginning of that and not a soul on earth has the slightest inkling as to what she told me. Unhealthy. Broken. Empty. Desperate. Weak. Sad. 0834. I am not happy with myself today. I feel incapable of accomplishing anything. Something will come to mind, I guess. It always does, be it sooner or later. 1059 is on the little clock. My routine is finished and I have the next several hours to myself. Part of my Sunday garbage work is out of the way and the rest will come in time. Right now I need to take a break from everything and think. Last night I was at sixes and sevens for quite a while and the last situation I want today is a repeat. I just can’t have that shit. My housework helped to cause the imagery and dreams to fade for a while. They have yet to come back in force. I have enough shit swirling inside already. Oh, gawd help me... The desire that burns inside me when I see that girl. Not THAT one, the girl on the screen right now. Hence the title of this mess. Anyway, I’ll have to kick into gear soon, perhaps when this cocktail is fully consumed. I’d like to remain ahead – if not on – schedule today. And then Nathalie? I could live the rest of my fucked up life with my lips on her shoulders. Good Christ... I need no more of this shit. This may be the time to switch the streaming media to something without so many fucking visions. 1329. I successfully extracted a broken bolt from the cylinder head of the old engine, thus paving the way for assembly once I make a trip to the hardware store. Sunday is not the best day to head over there, especially considering the abundant sunshine today. At least I have the engine ready. Oh, boy... My neighbor called because our other neighbor caught someone on his doorbell video very early this morning slinking around the court just off my west wall. That changes a few things. I may alter my daily schedule in order to be awake during the wee hours so my presence is seen by anyone wishing to cruise our street on foot while everyone else is asleep. The time for defensive mode is at hand. Thumbs up and down, as it were. We do not take kindly to crime around here. Onward. The last few weeks have summed inside my head and are beginning to indicate that this period is the end of my life. The memories of adventures and dreamy landscapes are cutting me to ribbons via the realization that there had been many ‘things’ I wanted to do, and even more time to achieve them. Well, the time has been squandered thanks to the shit situations of the past. Everything caught up with me and I am seeing far less time ahead than behind. Today, for example... Sunday has become my favorite day of the week, with Monday holding at a close second. That means if I am unable to fully pull myself out of the din today, the downhill slide has become even more dramatic than I had thought some months ago. I am so unhappy that words fail. There is sunshine today, too. This would typically be a very productive and comfortable part of the week, yet my insides will not let up. The glowing years are increasing in both brightness and importance. They have defined a good portion of who I am, and who I was. This is so very depressing. I always thought that the time ahead was abundant. Now I see the fruit of those fucking seeds. I don’t understand why such parts of life came to pass as they did. 1518. I cleaned the office window and the garbage business is all but finished. Just a few loose ends and that stuff will be over with today. For a little while, I had a full head of steam just after finishing with the engine, but lo and behold, the dreams and missing pieces have again ruined me. Some time ago there had been little glimpses; glimmers of hope that the understanding could be found. All of it was bullshit. But I cleaned the office window. Very exciting. Now I can stare out at the world going by as I sit here and rot away. Nothing else will be accomplished today because none of it seems to matter anymore. If I am going to be completely unhappy and in constant turmoil, why lift a finger to further anything? Oh, I’m sure there will be moments when I pop up and care for something in need. I just don’t see any of it right now, that’s all. Maybe I am already dead. Monday. Coffee and rampant sadness. Thank goodness I’ll be alone for much of the day. I don’t believe anyone would want to be near me for very long considering my shitty mood. And I don’t blame anyone for that. I wouldn’t want to be around a person such as myself, either. Today being Monday helps to make the week feel wide open to many possibilities. Whether or not this feeling remains inside me as the hours progress is another matter entirely. The morning time is always quiet. It allows me to think. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I did not have an easy time of things yesterday. My head became all clogged up with shit from the past, which brought me down, and interspersed with imagery that breeds wonder, which accomplishes nothing more than fanning the flames of sadness and depression. There is so much behind me now, and the realization that this current situation might be all I have yet to live brought me down considerably. I had a hell of a climb just to prepare and cook dinner. Afterward was my typical relaxation while partially watching a program prior to bed. The previous night found me more fucked up than I can remember, whereas last night was not quite that bad. I mean, the holes inside are constantly at the forefront of whatever I may be doing at a given time, but there was less, for sure. This morning I don’t know what to think. The day may turn out to be good or bad, and along with whichever of those will be more sadness. I just don’t understand why the world turned out this way. All I can do today is try to avoid the pit into which I fell yesterday. One way to do that is to finally take that damned trip to the big hardware store over the hill. Doing so will allow me to further a few projects and kill a bit of the clock at the same time. I really don’t want a repeat of the din from yesterday, and even now with the clock displaying merely 0808 in the morning, I can already feel disaster on the horizon. I really don’t want that kind of shit today. It ruins everything. Baby steps, I suppose. And I’ve been considering going to that big store for a couple of months, or at least at the outset of tearing down the bike. I don’t know what the rest of this year has in store for me. I realize that part of my situation is due to yearning when I see something special, and my head and eyes are under my control, literally. The root cause of such desperation, however, is most decidedly out of my hands. I am not responsible for routing and squishing, lies and other deceptive turns of the cards. I am fucking not. I will say that when I leave the house there is a part of me wishing for a vision. I really need to see what I need to see these days. My head turns and my eyes pull focus quite often before I really think about what I am doing. The action has become instinctive, to be sure, yet the movement is something I still consider completely under my control. I will take responsibility for such things. What I will not do is sit here and believe that the reason such an instinct takes over my reasoning at high speed is due to the way I’ve lived my life. No fucking way. My behavior is rooted in treatment by others. Them. Those fucking people. Oh, and two other things. Anyway, driving away from home is not the worst thing in the world, even considering what I saw last week. I have survived numerous excursions all over the place in recent months. I will survive again, and today may actually be chopped to workable segments in such a way so as to help me arrive in the opposite hemisphere of the clock in one piece. Right now I don’t know, though. I am trying to keep my head on straight. 0858. I have the laundry running already and the last of the coffee is next to me. I can’t get the imagery out of my brain, damn it. I keep seeing those moments over and over as if someone is running a slide show from which I can’t look away. Every fucking word I type is a chore. My mind is going back in time on and off this morning, sometimes the near past and then the long past, all the way back to that girl who taught me to think of my world in different terms. She may have been the beginning of the machine, but I can’t be certain anymore. Every theory is a guess. Perhaps I would be having an easier time of it had I not asked her to dinner all those years ago. I wouldn’t have known. Well... Too late for that shit, eh? The day will progress when this coffee is gone, I guess. The daily routine first and then maybe the hardware store. I need the clock to be my friend today as opposed to being an enemy like most days. I don’t have the first damned clue as to how I can get this shit out of my head in order to further my work. I need some fucking help, damn it all. I just need help. I often muse that I’ve seen too much, yet I keep searching. If I try to stifle the search, the memories will take over for lack of something else pulling my attention. If I venture into society and look around, the visions cause distress, turmoil and torment, and then I return home and equate whatever I’ve seen with the fucking memories. The girl last week caused me to travel all the way back to the RF period and the one behind the counter at the electronics store. Had I not seen that girl in the parking lot, the issue of remembering one of the most stirring beauties ever would not have arisen, but I am certain something else would have occurred in her place. I have seen plenty. The search is damaging, yet so is sitting here avoiding contact with the outside world. I honestly do not know which is worse. Perhaps neither. No matter what does or does not take place on a given day, the result inside me is a mass of desperate desire, and then I am forced to simply sit on the emotions and live with it. The conclusion is that whatever I decide, my condition will worsen, hence the idea of continuing to search. Cut me a fucking break because I have no answers. Keep looking? Seeking? What? My coffee is almost gone and I’m tired of sitting here trying to find anything that helps. I suppose it’s time for some housework. 1126. I have a second load of laundry rolling in the dryer and my daily routine is finished. Cocktail. Sadness. What has become doctrine is now ruling my thinking. Not everything is sad, though. There is also anger present. I am doing my best to keep it in the background lest I flip the fuck out. I am still uncertain about taking a trip to the hardware store, too. As much as I need to remain in this little house, sometimes circumstances require that I step out and take care of some business. If and when I do drive, my insides will be twisted. Sometimes I don’t know how I lived this long. The site can no longer be fully validated due to some deprecated code. Ugh. Maybe I should remove the XML, XHTML and CSS labels. Or maybe I should leave everything alone because I own the motherfucker and there are no rules governing some portions of the ‘fuckin’ intanet’. I just don’t care anymore. This site is nearly 400 pages deep with more than 200,000 lines of code. Changing anything aside from the precious master page is a chore and I am nowhere near being in the mood for such crap. One more time for posterity... Whatever. I don’t believe the Internet ‘police’ will come here and mandate that I alter the fucking content. Heh. I hope I make it all the way to the close of business hours today. And my short-term memory is continuing to diminish. Negatives are piling atop other negatives. Just imagine if I owned the audio equipment I REALLY wanted. Had I not purchased this very machine two months ago I could have afforded roughly ten percent of the audio system I desired. Think about that for a minute. Do you remember my mention that there is no defense against RF power? Learn something. I switched from video media to music. Nothing crazy, though. Just something my mom and I discovered while visiting The Good Guys store in Dublin during the glow. We had been awaiting my dad’s return from one of the listening rooms when we overheard quiet music emanating from a system perched on an endcap. She asked if there was any way I could learn of the artist, so I took the initiative and ejected the disc to see the name. And? The Glow will henceforth be capitalized because its importance grows with each passing moment. I am falling down right now. My drink is nearly gone. A second can lead to either more depression, death, or a ton of housework. I must decide if number two is worth the danger. Ugh. This music may have been a mistake. I am a tiny, insignificant soul sitting at a computer in a small town. I am airing my feelings, in a manner of speaking, and expect nothing good in the future. The nature of the grand scheme dictates that I am almost meaningless. That equates to my words being meaningless. No one is listening. Let us hope I do not commit suicide today. And no, I am not seeking attention because what I am writing here in the cloud would not be published for days. If I wanted attention, I’d speak to a person and express the same concern. Right now? Me here alone and unpublished? No one would know until they found me. Look up the conversation between Russell Means and Tom Hanks from ‘The Green Mile’; their short exchange just prior to the former’s execution in the electric chair. That is what I am wondering at this very moment. Trust that my situation is dire. I am very pleased with myself over chopping communication with everyone save for damned few individuals. They are out of my life and will perpetually remain as such unless something completely unexpected and very rare takes place. That type of situation is most unlikely, so here I sit... Alone for the duration. The fact that I published an entry many years ago which included the words ‘the end of all things’ in the title seems hilarious now. I was in a better mental and emotional condition at the time, yet did not realize it until several years later. The end is coming. It is only a matter of time. Don’t worry, though. I’ll provide proof. 1213. My heart is hurting right now because the separation of myself from other people means I have no one with whom to share anything. Eh, my heart is not hurting. It is breaking. Please excuse me for a few minutes while I go to the garage and cry. Tuesday. I am still sad. A bit more each morning, actually. Something bad is going to happen. I need... I suppose yesterday was ok, although memories and feelings of loss followed along through all of my work around the house. Not a fucking second passed without me considering all that is gone (likely forever). I believe the dreams which invaded early this morning resulted from all of my sadness yesterday. When I feel sad, I become very needy. That need likely forced my subconscious to create strangeness in the night. I remember bits and pieces. I know how those images came about and I know what was going on in that house. Now I have to try leaving it all behind in order to function today. Disaster is always looming if I am not careful. Yesterday I took care of quite a bit of work around this house and I intend to continue similar efforts later this morning. I have learned that there is a point in time – after the morning coffee – when my brain reaches some sort of threshold, leaving the difficult, early feelings behind and grabbing hold of a different type of mood due to a combination of fear and anger. It is also a realization, yet one I can’t fully discuss here. The loss becomes amplified and I feel completely defeated in life and stuck in one small space, seemingly for the rest of my days. This is not good and it develops inside me roughly five days out of seven.I look at the clock each morning and know that the time will arrive soon enough, after which I will become sad and angry with exactly zero effective consequences under my control. I cannot do anything about this, and that is the main reason for me feeling so desperate. Talking to myself; walking in circles; dreaming of everything that is gone and all that I need so badly... Those are the three tenets which now shape my every thought and move through each second of each day. I can’t even begin to describe the rest. This is plenty. I know of nothing that can help me, nor is there anyone listening. Chopping communication has its downside, I suppose. Some viewers of this show figured that Nathalie’s hair was not attractive and thus pushed her down the list of favorite female characters. Well, I feel the reverse. Her hair is fantastic. The main appeal is her beautiful face, though. The hair just frames it very well. The manner of my thinking has been made more severe in recent years, most notably since one year ago and those dreams I’ve mentioned so often. My thinking has also become dire, as if my heart has moved into a place of so much loneliness that if something does not change, nothing else will matter and I’ll have to go away. To the first point, I have found that my reaction to certain stimuli – such as being in the market or seeing something on the televisions – has become inflated far beyond anything real. That is to say the level of desperation comes out when I talk to myself. I am alone nearly all of the time, so speaking out loud matters not. No one is going to hear me, and even if a person caught wind of words that I utter, they would likely be hard-pressed to understand. The more I think and see, the more I speak, and every now and then I notice a change in the nature of what I am saying. This is true because I am always paying attention and have grown into an extremely detail-oriented person in recent years. The problem here is that the future could be at risk if I do not improve myself, and that means any recipient of truth coming from me would label me and move away at a decent clip. I am not saying that to be funny, either. None of this is fucking funny. I know myself and am beginning to see that the past jokes I’ve made regarding ending up in a ‘basement’ were not so far-fetched. I don’t even know if I can hold my tongue around other people, especially if I see or am reminded of some errant vision. I believe sometimes I think in harsher terms than even one year ago and the words probably come flying off my tongue before I realize it. I am alone almost all of the time and have lost the need to align myself with societal ‘norms’. This is bad, and just another straw. At least I know what the fuck I’m doing and don’t deny that I’ve lost part of my mind. 0807. I have no idea how I am going to feel later today. The only fact is that due to all of the laundry and dry cleaning I completed yesterday, if I am to remain busy I’ll have to move in other directions. I wish I could know if these feelings are to fade later on. I have control of the media and know to avoid certain programs at varying times, yet memories do not conform with my needs most of the time. Something jabs at my brain and becomes lodged so deeply that I can’t rid myself of the desire, and the only trajectory once that takes place is toward the negative. If I can remain mindful of the shitty consequences that accompany the issue of falling on my face, perhaps the day will progress smoothly. Right now? I don’t fucking know. My typical stuff is always completed at some point. Always. As for the rest, I honestly cannot predict. There are images from one dream nagging at my brain right now, the shit from last year sitting on my head as it does every fucking day, and the knowledge that I am moving into a bleak future with little choice in anything. That is a lot to grade aside just for the sake of housework. But then again, what else do I have? My entire universe comprises just under six thousand square feet. That is all. Second cup of coffee. Bad, bad, bad situation here. Very bad. Of course none of the girls on this page real. Get your head out of your ass. Reality has ruined me. Why would I want it here? Stick it in your syringe and shoot it. This series should be subheaded as ‘stereotyping and generalization within a medieval setting’. Laugh it up. It’s a little funny, I guess. I switched programs again yesterday because the second show ran its course. I started the fifth again. That is the single series that does not force me to dream of the film industry or my desire to be within such a universe. I can’t define the difference. And despite tons of Jolene all over the screen, I seem to have fewer issues watching that series than most of the others. Once it is done, I’ll go all the way back to the beginning. This is what I do, and it guarantees that my head will not be affected nearly as much as the alternatives dictate. They are my family. I love and need them. The sadness is beginning to take control of me this morning. I may have to begin the routine earlier than usual. Maybe avoiding a drive to the hardware store yesterday was a good thing. I can head over there today and break up the clock some. I may need that much of a distraction to get the dreams and desperation out of my brain for a little while. There are photos flipping along, some of them creating short motion pictures which I am powerless to stop. That thing from last year; the other thing from years earlier of which I was reminded not long ago; everything is rolled up and flipping along, far beyond my control. The resulting sadness will probably turn to anger, and if I decide to drink a touch more than usual, the likelihood of depression dictating the rest of my day will be increased ten-fold. Not good. The last bastion of human endeavor may have disappeared from my life for all time. I can’t be certain, of course, because the future may hold possibilities of which I am currently unaware, yet the evidence and nature of my thinking are pushing me in that direction. If true, I will not know for years, unfortunately, and that means the search will continue unimpeded. I do not know of another way of living. I mentioned that the way my mind operates has changed markedly in the past year. It may continue in this vein until I become completely unable to function. This morning has demonstrated that no matter what I may be engaged in, the thoughts are always right behind my eyes. They do not leave for a second and have held me back from advancing myself, finding some type of work, and furthering any open projects in this fucking house. I don’t know whether to be angry, sad, or some hellish combination of both. This is a very bad time. Right now the only light I see is a section of the clock being devoted to alone time. I need not concern myself with people or anything else unless I choose to. Visiting the hardware store would be nothing more than a temporary distraction from this dark place. I experienced that ‘thing’ and then saw it. The instinct is to explore further, yet the way society has developed in general, and my world in particular, the chance of such a circumstance is so slim I would need a laser micrometer in order to measure it. I saw it and knew the effect was similar, although I could not speak about it. I need to, as well. I need to speak with someone about it almost as badly as I need to go back in time to repeat the occurrence. The former is improbable and frightening, and the latter is impossible. I am in a bad spot here because as I mentioned above, the last bastion may be gone forever. I know some of the reasons. Not all, but some. I do not know how to go about pursuing this topic in the future, if it is possible at all. I just don’t fucking know, and no one is there to listen. My coffee is almost gone, meaning I’ll have to head out of this office and begin my housework soon. I don’t want to sit here and lose my mind trying to say all this without actually saying anything. The process is exhausting and makes me very sad. Having been driven to such a state is killing me. The mere fact that my mind has to try exploring different aspects of the way my life has unfolded is sad in and of itself. This process is also fucking exhausting. But? Here I am anyway, and at some point every fucking day of the week. Maybe the housework can assist my head. Oh, and the title is related to the last bastion of human endeavor. Trust me. The time is now 1120 and my daily routine is finished. The dishes are drip-drying as has become my custom of late. Using the towels on fewer occasions and for less time actually saves water. I realize it’s not a big difference, but if I can reduce two percent of the usage, the bottom line is I’m using two percent less. That type of calculation goes back to the Midwest period and our attempts to minimize the salt effects upon the car chassis. Believe it. And? Whatever. This is my life. I have my requisite morning cocktail and free time for the next few hours. As I worked through the morning, I walked like a zombie, meaning each step was a chore. And with each of those steps came thoughts of the gaping holes inside me and of the end. Wait... What? I’ve been considering the ramifications of disappearing, insofar as the possible effects upon those who know me. This is a controversial subject and I will only say so much on the site. Just know that plans are being laid. I have much to analyze these days. The ‘best laid plans’, and all that shit. I still have no idea of how I’ve lived like this for so long. There were gaps, of course, but they are gone for good and there is nothing on the fucking horizon. Clambake. I don’t understand why things must be as they are. I’ve done bad in my life, but not that much. Doesn’t everyone fuck up from time to time? I have fucked up situations in the past. Am I the only one? Do my circumstances differ much from other people? I will never know because no one is listening. I saw them. They are not mine. I can see them whenever and wherever I wish, but they cannot be mine, nor can I be even remotely close to them. I will see them again and equate the vision to the damaging dreams. I will see them over and over because this is the life I have crafted in order to deal with so many holes inside me (one, mostly). I will se them again and fucking yearn as I have yearned for little else. The Passion, perhaps, but that is a power unlike the others. I need to see them. I need too much. I do not see what I desire; I only see damage and disaster. This will still not garner the label ‘unfair’. I can’t do that because the word does not fit. I am the result of circumstances, nothing more. Shit situations, for sure, and as much as those times may have been unfair in their own right, the resulting emotions I feel and a diminished mental condition are not. I have dived into the sin. I have placed myself knowingly in damaging, dreamy situations for the purposes of finding what I need and discarding everything else. As such, I have partially damned myself. The shit situations existed prior to my deviant behavior, but that is not to say they are wholly responsible. I know what I am. I also know this paragraph has gone off the fucking rails because I cannot begin a thought and then follow through in a meaningful fashion. To put this shit into perspective, whatever I’ve done and however desperate my heart has become, the fact is that I should not be here. I should not be in this hellish place. You can look at terms such as ‘unfair’ or ‘deserving’ all day long; I don’t care. I need a measure of control in everyday life. Unfortunately, the most important type of control is most decidedly beyond my ability. Draw your own conclusion. I fucking hate this situation. This is the type of day in which everything swirls inside my head and I become very angry, although there is nothing I can do about it. The last part of that sentence generates even more fucking anger. What am I to do? Move into the garage and swing the hammer? That accomplishes nothing. Should I have something to eat? Equally meaningless. This lack of recourse is going to cause damage very soon. I have no options right now. And before you point out that some of this has been caused by my actions and decisions, believe me when I say that I already fucking know as much. Shut the fuck up. I know everything. I am going to lose my fucking mind soon. I really don’t need this shit. There is enough in life already trying to secure the reins. I have to do something else with my day before the anger pulls me in horrible directions. Another war is beginning to form inside my head. Today is Wednesday. I do not want a repeat of yesterday, either. That was a bad day. I was already upset enough about several different conditions and did not need anything piled on top. It happened anyway. I will need to adjust the way my hours pass in order to avoid that shit in the future. Something, anyway. I don’t know. Today is wide open; good and bad. Bad? Situation. You can fuck your design. I am going to the big hardware store today for no other reason than extrication. I need to get information out of my brain for a little while because I’m fucking losing it. I don’t want everything to go to shit today. The feeling of destruction is already in mind and will fester if I do not pay constant attention. I have already resigned myself to losing this battle, too. There is no way I can make it out of all this. Such a lesson came along with yesterday’s horrible realization that what has been made to disappear from my life will not return, ever. This is very hurtful. Knowing that my dreams will never materialize again means I will dwell increasingly on the past, and that is the activity which first began to drive me out of society. Reality gave way to fantasy because I lived in short segments of the latter. I lived through them and came out the other side a bit smaller and more disillusioned, every time. Now? All of it has summed inside me and helped to paint the way to the future, one marked by sadness and loss. There is nothing on my horizon, no one near the doorstep, and no one listening. I hate the fact that I already know everything before the fucking second hand ticks one more hash mark forward. I see the painting. I already know. I already fucking know. I can’t go over all those numbers anymore. One to four, and then those Goddamned calculations that always leave me feeling as if the future could not be enough no matter what may happen. All the fucking good in the world could come to my door and open possibilities left and right, yet I already know of the volume and the numbers. I already know, for the fifth time. The fact remains that there is simply not enough fucking time. The numbers and calculations have taken their toll and the more I recall the periods, the worse everything feels. I can’t find a way out of this shit no matter which way I turn. 0844. The time on the clock no longer matters in the grand scheme. I am not going anywhere, nor will I rise. I began to mark the time a few years ago for some reason that I cannot recall. Maybe I thought this was going to be something more than it is. I don’t know, and such a fact is simply one more thing in the world about which I don’t fucking care. I’ve been trying to find answers for a very long time. The days, weeks and months pass, and nothing changes. I have found zero insight. I have learned very little. Those ears of the past have slighted, lied, placated and misunderstood everything in existence. They have also ‘squished’, a practice I mastered many years ago for very different reasons, none of them self-serving. The bed is unmade. This is the real doctrine. Nothing to do with desperation or desire. Sin? I don’t even know what the fuck that word means anymore. I’ve decided to make up my own terms to describe my feelings and none of them will appear here because nothing I say matters in the least. I am beginning to think that I no longer matter, either. Isn’t that great? Another clambake for the ages? Maybe. The doctrine can’t be altered. Words from others will only annoy me. There remains zero trust inside me. Zero. Not even those closest are without an agenda. And what is my agenda? You make the call. I go about my daily business, shop when necessary, and then sit here and type. If I am having a negative effect upon other people through these actions, I have a bridge to sell you. You are dead wrong. I’ve been searching, nothing more. I am just a little person and do not know how to live life without making mistakes, but at least I know it. Many in society feel the opposite. I’ve seen it. I cannot align with such behavior because all of the bad things in the past molded me into a person who thinks far too much. I think until I find reasons, meaning I watch and listen rather than press my views. My views don’t matter. I really don’t know how to adequately describe anything here, so that’s that. No more. I need to get the fuck away from this machine for a little while. Nothing pleases me anymore, so I don’t have a clue what to do. The shit from last year is weighing heavily on my mind, as is the other thing that I still don’t fucking understand. Well, I suppose I can stop trying. Sitting here typing words about subjects that no one can ever identify is a galactic waste of time. Thursday has arrived, for whatever good it may do. I have my nice coffee and the dragons over there to the right. The morning is quiet so far. I have a little time before the early business. Right now my main concern is negative thinking. All I can do is sit here and push back. The frame returned to my garage last night, though. At least I can focus on the beginning of assembly for a while today. The work might help me remain upright and distracted. Lately, the most difficult world in my vocabulary is ‘thinking’, although I still need it each day. I can think my way out of any difficulty when it comes to projects and whatnot, but in life? I think about the past. My mind hit a wall yesterday, too. I can’t describe it, though. Just know that I am a tad closer to the ground as a result. Thursday is here regardless of my feelings. Speaking of ‘things’, the one from last year continues to plague me, most notably when I have been dreaming of the past. Yesterday I found myself in the middle of two disparate issues at the same time and am proud of myself for not completely blowing up inside. This has nothing to do with the damaging dreams, either. It is an unrelated concern which likely came about very slowly in the background while I was not paying attention. Either that, or I had been distracted enough to believe it was not a big deal at the time. Now? I am worried that something wonderful may be disappearing forever. Or maybe it’s already gone. Nothing else in the world has the power to sway me a greater distance from the path of life. I am routed; railed, and there is seemingly one less reason for me to be a decent person. I have a few thoughts about how and why this change has taken place, too, and that means I can put the disdain aside at times. I don’t believe there are words to express my mood this morning. It’s almost time for a little business before my quiet hours. 0819. I can’t do anything from this fucking chair. Yesterday upset me quite a bit, and then the thought that I have absolutely no recourse with regard to ANYTHING in life, well... I was on the edge of the world for a little while until I found the strength to calm myself. I still don’t want bad things happening. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later. I always thought this type of situation would result in the reverse condition, but I was wrong. Perhaps I pushed the idea away because I was afraid of such a consideration. Conversely, this may be the result of being squished for many years. All the way back to that difficult period, I’ve brought up the idea that one person curtailed everything and the ensuing years were simply a slow burn. Right now I am uncertain as to the truth. In any case, the problem is here and is very real, leaving me to worry every fucking day about the combination of the near and far past having shaped me into a person with no possibility of joy. More doctrine? Maybe. I can feel the problem nagging me inside at this very moment, too. Nothing goes away. Issues simply become diluted by whatever else may be happening each day. I am not going to do this much longer. The point escapes me right now and I don’t see a way of solving anything brought to this content during the last three years (or more). I continue to feel worse with each passing day, the future still appears dim, and the problems I am experiencing press on me with increasing force. I just don’t see a reason to try. If I decide to return my brain to the fictional stories, they will be for me alone, no one else. The site will continue to live, though. As much as I have found little reason to record my thoughts, there is even less reason to remove the content I’ve published over the years. This is not helping me but it may help someone else. Not much chance of that, yet even if there is only a smidgen, the words will remain alive. The coffee is almost gone and I may move away from the keyboard soon. I like my office and this machine. They can be used for other endeavors. Maybe I’ll return; maybe not. I do not want anyone aware of the processes inside my head anymore.” Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Doctrine, et Alia Mature content No. 372 Published May 11th, 2023 9:14am pdt read ( words) Past entries "1141. Does the time matter? Sunday morning. I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night. There were situations in my head that would not leave no matter the effort. Some were related to the program we’ve been following during recent evenings, yet that story is nothing terrible. For some reason, imagery and ideas stunted my ability to relax for a long while. Thankfully, none of the other dreams invaded the night. I don’t need any more of that shit. Dreams are half the reason I am so fucked up. Those idyllic situations arise in the night and then I awaken to realize that life is not really worth it anymore. Some I do not remember, of course, yet far too many visions have developed inside me and not left for months, if not longer. The most stirring, damaging pictures upon which I dwell every single fucking day seem to be permanent. When I try to rest myself at night, all this shit comes to mind and I fear for my sleep quality. Not good. I could really use some fucking nice moments of offset all this other difficult shit. Each morning finds me a little bit more pissed off than the previous. Marvelous. Clambake. I don’t know what today has in store. The usual business awaits, of course, along with whatever else I may decide to tackle. Conversely, I may opt to do nothing beyond my typical mid-morning routine. The motivation will come to me, or it won’t. Right now I have no idea how things will progress today. The hours alone have equal chances of working for or against me. As I said above, nice things would be very good for my outlook right fucking now. They may not exist at all, unfortunately, and the more I recall being in the fold of comfort and understanding, the darker my future appears. A road with no turns? Eh... I’ve used that oversimplification too much already. If the day is to work well for me, I’ll have to be the catalyst. There is no other way. I suppose that means everything depends upon my mood. By late morning yesterday I was ready to blow up the garage and make a statement of my negative condition. Once it faded, the idea of swinging the hammer and ignoring others faded quite a bit and began to feel alien again. I don’t know what may happen inside my head later. Roll the dice. The carousel never ceases its motion. Maybe I dwell upon stirring visions for too long. The girl in the parking lot, for example, is now like some animation looping over and over inside me. She was a combination of two others, as well, and carried the most amazing sections of each. Perhaps I should not have turned after passing her. That was a mistake, I guess. I don’t know. Some overly beautiful people move around society and expect no one to look at them. That type of thinking does not compute. I looked at her and turned to see her form from the back. That is a clear indication that my desperation continues and has even grown since last year. Very bad. But why? No one is listening. I’ll probably never see her again, and I’m thinking that the likelihood of a similar form appearing in reality is pretty fucking slender, just like that girl’s legs. Whatever. Yes, I do dwell upon too much; the past, forms I’ve seen, the damaging dreams, etc. I am unhealthy in that way. I do not lift a finger to help myself very often and the effects are weighing heavily lately. I believe my concern over how this shit is shaping my future is what kept me awake last night. I could be wrong, though. Oh, God damn it all... I really wish I could actually say what I mean (and need). If I’ve become a desperate fool for the visions, just imagine how I must feel about needing the right type of understanding. That’s a bad one. Again... Into the past I go... Ashley was the beginning of that and not a soul on earth has the slightest inkling as to what she told me. Unhealthy. Broken. Empty. Desperate. Weak. Sad. 0834. I am not happy with myself today. I feel incapable of accomplishing anything. Something will come to mind, I guess. It always does, be it sooner or later. 1059 is on the little clock. My routine is finished and I have the next several hours to myself. Part of my Sunday garbage work is out of the way and the rest will come in time. Right now I need to take a break from everything and think. Last night I was at sixes and sevens for quite a while and the last situation I want today is a repeat. I just can’t have that shit. My housework helped to cause the imagery and dreams to fade for a while. They have yet to come back in force. I have enough shit swirling inside already. Oh, gawd help me... The desire that burns inside me when I see that girl. Not THAT one, the girl on the screen right now. Hence the title of this mess. Anyway, I’ll have to kick into gear soon, perhaps when this cocktail is fully consumed. I’d like to remain ahead – if not on – schedule today. And then Nathalie? I could live the rest of my fucked up life with my lips on her shoulders. Good Christ... I need no more of this shit. This may be the time to switch the streaming media to something without so many fucking visions. 1329. I successfully extracted a broken bolt from the cylinder head of the old engine, thus paving the way for assembly once I make a trip to the hardware store. Sunday is not the best day to head over there, especially considering the abundant sunshine today. At least I have the engine ready. Oh, boy... My neighbor called because our other neighbor caught someone on his doorbell video very early this morning slinking around the court just off my west wall. That changes a few things. I may alter my daily schedule in order to be awake during the wee hours so my presence is seen by anyone wishing to cruise our street on foot while everyone else is asleep. The time for defensive mode is at hand. Thumbs up and down, as it were. We do not take kindly to crime around here. Onward. The last few weeks have summed inside my head and are beginning to indicate that this period is the end of my life. The memories of adventures and dreamy landscapes are cutting me to ribbons via the realization that there had been many ‘things’ I wanted to do, and even more time to achieve them. Well, the time has been squandered thanks to the shit situations of the past. Everything caught up with me and I am seeing far less time ahead than behind. Today, for example... Sunday has become my favorite day of the week, with Monday holding at a close second. That means if I am unable to fully pull myself out of the din today, the downhill slide has become even more dramatic than I had thought some months ago. I am so unhappy that words fail. There is sunshine today, too. This would typically be a very productive and comfortable part of the week, yet my insides will not let up. The glowing years are increasing in both brightness and importance. They have defined a good portion of who I am, and who I was. This is so very depressing. I always thought that the time ahead was abundant. Now I see the fruit of those fucking seeds. I don’t understand why such parts of life came to pass as they did. 1518. I cleaned the office window and the garbage business is all but finished. Just a few loose ends and that stuff will be over with today. For a little while, I had a full head of steam just after finishing with the engine, but lo and behold, the dreams and missing pieces have again ruined me. Some time ago there had been little glimpses; glimmers of hope that the understanding could be found. All of it was bullshit. But I cleaned the office window. Very exciting. Now I can stare out at the world going by as I sit here and rot away. Nothing else will be accomplished today because none of it seems to matter anymore. If I am going to be completely unhappy and in constant turmoil, why lift a finger to further anything? Oh, I’m sure there will be moments when I pop up and care for something in need. I just don’t see any of it right now, that’s all. Maybe I am already dead. Monday. Coffee and rampant sadness. Thank goodness I’ll be alone for much of the day. I don’t believe anyone would want to be near me for very long considering my shitty mood. And I don’t blame anyone for that. I wouldn’t want to be around a person such as myself, either. Today being Monday helps to make the week feel wide open to many possibilities. Whether or not this feeling remains inside me as the hours progress is another matter entirely. The morning time is always quiet. It allows me to think. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I did not have an easy time of things yesterday. My head became all clogged up with shit from the past, which brought me down, and interspersed with imagery that breeds wonder, which accomplishes nothing more than fanning the flames of sadness and depression. There is so much behind me now, and the realization that this current situation might be all I have yet to live brought me down considerably. I had a hell of a climb just to prepare and cook dinner. Afterward was my typical relaxation while partially watching a program prior to bed. The previous night found me more fucked up than I can remember, whereas last night was not quite that bad. I mean, the holes inside are constantly at the forefront of whatever I may be doing at a given time, but there was less, for sure. This morning I don’t know what to think. The day may turn out to be good or bad, and along with whichever of those will be more sadness. I just don’t understand why the world turned out this way. All I can do today is try to avoid the pit into which I fell yesterday. One way to do that is to finally take that damned trip to the big hardware store over the hill. Doing so will allow me to further a few projects and kill a bit of the clock at the same time. I really don’t want a repeat of the din from yesterday, and even now with the clock displaying merely 0808 in the morning, I can already feel disaster on the horizon. I really don’t want that kind of shit today. It ruins everything. Baby steps, I suppose. And I’ve been considering going to that big store for a couple of months, or at least at the outset of tearing down the bike. I don’t know what the rest of this year has in store for me. I realize that part of my situation is due to yearning when I see something special, and my head and eyes are under my control, literally. The root cause of such desperation, however, is most decidedly out of my hands. I am not responsible for routing and squishing, lies and other deceptive turns of the cards. I am fucking not. I will say that when I leave the house there is a part of me wishing for a vision. I really need to see what I need to see these days. My head turns and my eyes pull focus quite often before I really think about what I am doing. The action has become instinctive, to be sure, yet the movement is something I still consider completely under my control. I will take responsibility for such things. What I will not do is sit here and believe that the reason such an instinct takes over my reasoning at high speed is due to the way I’ve lived my life. No fucking way. My behavior is rooted in treatment by others. Them. Those fucking people. Oh, and two other things. Anyway, driving away from home is not the worst thing in the world, even considering what I saw last week. I have survived numerous excursions all over the place in recent months. I will survive again, and today may actually be chopped to workable segments in such a way so as to help me arrive in the opposite hemisphere of the clock in one piece. Right now I don’t know, though. I am trying to keep my head on straight. 0858. I have the laundry running already and the last of the coffee is next to me. I can’t get the imagery out of my brain, damn it. I keep seeing those moments over and over as if someone is running a slide show from which I can’t look away. Every fucking word I type is a chore. My mind is going back in time on and off this morning, sometimes the near past and then the long past, all the way back to that girl who taught me to think of my world in different terms. She may have been the beginning of the machine, but I can’t be certain anymore. Every theory is a guess. Perhaps I would be having an easier time of it had I not asked her to dinner all those years ago. I wouldn’t have known. Well... Too late for that shit, eh? The day will progress when this coffee is gone, I guess. The daily routine first and then maybe the hardware store. I need the clock to be my friend today as opposed to being an enemy like most days. I don’t have the first damned clue as to how I can get this shit out of my head in order to further my work. I need some fucking help, damn it all. I just need help. I often muse that I’ve seen too much, yet I keep searching. If I try to stifle the search, the memories will take over for lack of something else pulling my attention. If I venture into society and look around, the visions cause distress, turmoil and torment, and then I return home and equate whatever I’ve seen with the fucking memories. The girl last week caused me to travel all the way back to the RF period and the one behind the counter at the electronics store. Had I not seen that girl in the parking lot, the issue of remembering one of the most stirring beauties ever would not have arisen, but I am certain something else would have occurred in her place. I have seen plenty. The search is damaging, yet so is sitting here avoiding contact with the outside world. I honestly do not know which is worse. Perhaps neither. No matter what does or does not take place on a given day, the result inside me is a mass of desperate desire, and then I am forced to simply sit on the emotions and live with it. The conclusion is that whatever I decide, my condition will worsen, hence the idea of continuing to search. Cut me a fucking break because I have no answers. Keep looking? Seeking? What? My coffee is almost gone and I’m tired of sitting here trying to find anything that helps. I suppose it’s time for some housework. 1126. I have a second load of laundry rolling in the dryer and my daily routine is finished. Cocktail. Sadness. What has become doctrine is now ruling my thinking. Not everything is sad, though. There is also anger present. I am doing my best to keep it in the background lest I flip the fuck out. I am still uncertain about taking a trip to the hardware store, too. As much as I need to remain in this little house, sometimes circumstances require that I step out and take care of some business. If and when I do drive, my insides will be twisted. Sometimes I don’t know how I lived this long. The site can no longer be fully validated due to some deprecated code. Ugh. Maybe I should remove the XML, XHTML and CSS labels. Or maybe I should leave everything alone because I own the motherfucker and there are no rules governing some portions of the ‘fuckin’ intanet’. I just don’t care anymore. This site is nearly 400 pages deep with more than 200,000 lines of code. Changing anything aside from the precious master page is a chore and I am nowhere near being in the mood for such crap. One more time for posterity... Whatever. I don’t believe the Internet ‘police’ will come here and mandate that I alter the fucking content. Heh. I hope I make it all the way to the close of business hours today. And my short-term memory is continuing to diminish. Negatives are piling atop other negatives. Just imagine if I owned the audio equipment I REALLY wanted. Had I not purchased this very machine two months ago I could have afforded roughly ten percent of the audio system I desired. Think about that for a minute. Do you remember my mention that there is no defense against RF power? Learn something. I switched from video media to music. Nothing crazy, though. Just something my mom and I discovered while visiting The Good Guys store in Dublin during the glow. We had been awaiting my dad’s return from one of the listening rooms when we overheard quiet music emanating from a system perched on an endcap. She asked if there was any way I could learn of the artist, so I took the initiative and ejected the disc to see the name. And? The Glow will henceforth be capitalized because its importance grows with each passing moment. I am falling down right now. My drink is nearly gone. A second can lead to either more depression, death, or a ton of housework. I must decide if number two is worth the danger. Ugh. This music may have been a mistake. I am a tiny, insignificant soul sitting at a computer in a small town. I am airing my feelings, in a manner of speaking, and expect nothing good in the future. The nature of the grand scheme dictates that I am almost meaningless. That equates to my words being meaningless. No one is listening. Let us hope I do not commit suicide today. And no, I am not seeking attention because what I am writing here in the cloud would not be published for days. If I wanted attention, I’d speak to a person and express the same concern. Right now? Me here alone and unpublished? No one would know until they found me. Look up the conversation between Russell Means and Tom Hanks from ‘The Green Mile’; their short exchange just prior to the former’s execution in the electric chair. That is what I am wondering at this very moment. Trust that my situation is dire. I am very pleased with myself over chopping communication with everyone save for damned few individuals. They are out of my life and will perpetually remain as such unless something completely unexpected and very rare takes place. That type of situation is most unlikely, so here I sit... Alone for the duration. The fact that I published an entry many years ago which included the words ‘the end of all things’ in the title seems hilarious now. I was in a better mental and emotional condition at the time, yet did not realize it until several years later. The end is coming. It is only a matter of time. Don’t worry, though. I’ll provide proof. 1213. My heart is hurting right now because the separation of myself from other people means I have no one with whom to share anything. Eh, my heart is not hurting. It is breaking. Please excuse me for a few minutes while I go to the garage and cry. Tuesday. I am still sad. A bit more each morning, actually. Something bad is going to happen. I need... I suppose yesterday was ok, although memories and feelings of loss followed along through all of my work around the house. Not a fucking second passed without me considering all that is gone (likely forever). I believe the dreams which invaded early this morning resulted from all of my sadness yesterday. When I feel sad, I become very needy. That need likely forced my subconscious to create strangeness in the night. I remember bits and pieces. I know how those images came about and I know what was going on in that house. Now I have to try leaving it all behind in order to function today. Disaster is always looming if I am not careful. Yesterday I took care of quite a bit of work around this house and I intend to continue similar efforts later this morning. I have learned that there is a point in time – after the morning coffee – when my brain reaches some sort of threshold, leaving the difficult, early feelings behind and grabbing hold of a different type of mood due to a combination of fear and anger. It is also a realization, yet one I can’t fully discuss here. The loss becomes amplified and I feel completely defeated in life and stuck in one small space, seemingly for the rest of my days. This is not good and it develops inside me roughly five days out of seven.I look at the clock each morning and know that the time will arrive soon enough, after which I will become sad and angry with exactly zero effective consequences under my control. I cannot do anything about this, and that is the main reason for me feeling so desperate. Talking to myself; walking in circles; dreaming of everything that is gone and all that I need so badly... Those are the three tenets which now shape my every thought and move through each second of each day. I can’t even begin to describe the rest. This is plenty. I know of nothing that can help me, nor is there anyone listening. Chopping communication has its downside, I suppose. Some viewers of this show figured that Nathalie’s hair was not attractive and thus pushed her down the list of favorite female characters. Well, I feel the reverse. Her hair is fantastic. The main appeal is her beautiful face, though. The hair just frames it very well. The manner of my thinking has been made more severe in recent years, most notably since one year ago and those dreams I’ve mentioned so often. My thinking has also become dire, as if my heart has moved into a place of so much loneliness that if something does not change, nothing else will matter and I’ll have to go away. To the first point, I have found that my reaction to certain stimuli – such as being in the market or seeing something on the televisions – has become inflated far beyond anything real. That is to say the level of desperation comes out when I talk to myself. I am alone nearly all of the time, so speaking out loud matters not. No one is going to hear me, and even if a person caught wind of words that I utter, they would likely be hard-pressed to understand. The more I think and see, the more I speak, and every now and then I notice a change in the nature of what I am saying. This is true because I am always paying attention and have grown into an extremely detail-oriented person in recent years. The problem here is that the future could be at risk if I do not improve myself, and that means any recipient of truth coming from me would label me and move away at a decent clip. I am not saying that to be funny, either. None of this is fucking funny. I know myself and am beginning to see that the past jokes I’ve made regarding ending up in a ‘basement’ were not so far-fetched. I don’t even know if I can hold my tongue around other people, especially if I see or am reminded of some errant vision. I believe sometimes I think in harsher terms than even one year ago and the words probably come flying off my tongue before I realize it. I am alone almost all of the time and have lost the need to align myself with societal ‘norms’. This is bad, and just another straw. At least I know what the fuck I’m doing and don’t deny that I’ve lost part of my mind. 0807. I have no idea how I am going to feel later today. The only fact is that due to all of the laundry and dry cleaning I completed yesterday, if I am to remain busy I’ll have to move in other directions. I wish I could know if these feelings are to fade later on. I have control of the media and know to avoid certain programs at varying times, yet memories do not conform with my needs most of the time. Something jabs at my brain and becomes lodged so deeply that I can’t rid myself of the desire, and the only trajectory once that takes place is toward the negative. If I can remain mindful of the shitty consequences that accompany the issue of falling on my face, perhaps the day will progress smoothly. Right now? I don’t fucking know. My typical stuff is always completed at some point. Always. As for the rest, I honestly cannot predict. There are images from one dream nagging at my brain right now, the shit from last year sitting on my head as it does every fucking day, and the knowledge that I am moving into a bleak future with little choice in anything. That is a lot to grade aside just for the sake of housework. But then again, what else do I have? My entire universe comprises just under six thousand square feet. That is all. Second cup of coffee. Bad, bad, bad situation here. Very bad. Of course none of the girls on this page real. Get your head out of your ass. Reality has ruined me. Why would I want it here? Stick it in your syringe and shoot it. This series should be subheaded as ‘stereotyping and generalization within a medieval setting’. Laugh it up. It’s a little funny, I guess. I switched programs again yesterday because the second show ran its course. I started the fifth again. That is the single series that does not force me to dream of the film industry or my desire to be within such a universe. I can’t define the difference. And despite tons of Jolene all over the screen, I seem to have fewer issues watching that series than most of the others. Once it is done, I’ll go all the way back to the beginning. This is what I do, and it guarantees that my head will not be affected nearly as much as the alternatives dictate. They are my family. I love and need them. The sadness is beginning to take control of me this morning. I may have to begin the routine earlier than usual. Maybe avoiding a drive to the hardware store yesterday was a good thing. I can head over there today and break up the clock some. I may need that much of a distraction to get the dreams and desperation out of my brain for a little while. There are photos flipping along, some of them creating short motion pictures which I am powerless to stop. That thing from last year; the other thing from years earlier of which I was reminded not long ago; everything is rolled up and flipping along, far beyond my control. The resulting sadness will probably turn to anger, and if I decide to drink a touch more than usual, the likelihood of depression dictating the rest of my day will be increased ten-fold. Not good. The last bastion of human endeavor may have disappeared from my life for all time. I can’t be certain, of course, because the future may hold possibilities of which I am currently unaware, yet the evidence and nature of my thinking are pushing me in that direction. If true, I will not know for years, unfortunately, and that means the search will continue unimpeded. I do not know of another way of living. I mentioned that the way my mind operates has changed markedly in the past year. It may continue in this vein until I become completely unable to function. This morning has demonstrated that no matter what I may be engaged in, the thoughts are always right behind my eyes. They do not leave for a second and have held me back from advancing myself, finding some type of work, and furthering any open projects in this fucking house. I don’t know whether to be angry, sad, or some hellish combination of both. This is a very bad time. Right now the only light I see is a section of the clock being devoted to alone time. I need not concern myself with people or anything else unless I choose to. Visiting the hardware store would be nothing more than a temporary distraction from this dark place. I experienced that ‘thing’ and then saw it. The instinct is to explore further, yet the way society has developed in general, and my world in particular, the chance of such a circumstance is so slim I would need a laser micrometer in order to measure it. I saw it and knew the effect was similar, although I could not speak about it. I need to, as well. I need to speak with someone about it almost as badly as I need to go back in time to repeat the occurrence. The former is improbable and frightening, and the latter is impossible. I am in a bad spot here because as I mentioned above, the last bastion may be gone forever. I know some of the reasons. Not all, but some. I do not know how to go about pursuing this topic in the future, if it is possible at all. I just don’t fucking know, and no one is there to listen. My coffee is almost gone, meaning I’ll have to head out of this office and begin my housework soon. I don’t want to sit here and lose my mind trying to say all this without actually saying anything. The process is exhausting and makes me very sad. Having been driven to such a state is killing me. The mere fact that my mind has to try exploring different aspects of the way my life has unfolded is sad in and of itself. This process is also fucking exhausting. But? Here I am anyway, and at some point every fucking day of the week. Maybe the housework can assist my head. Oh, and the title is related to the last bastion of human endeavor. Trust me. The time is now 1120 and my daily routine is finished. The dishes are drip-drying as has become my custom of late. Using the towels on fewer occasions and for less time actually saves water. I realize it’s not a big difference, but if I can reduce two percent of the usage, the bottom line is I’m using two percent less. That type of calculation goes back to the Midwest period and our attempts to minimize the salt effects upon the car chassis. Believe it. And? Whatever. This is my life. I have my requisite morning cocktail and free time for the next few hours. As I worked through the morning, I walked like a zombie, meaning each step was a chore. And with each of those steps came thoughts of the gaping holes inside me and of the end. Wait... What? I’ve been considering the ramifications of disappearing, insofar as the possible effects upon those who know me. This is a controversial subject and I will only say so much on the site. Just know that plans are being laid. I have much to analyze these days. The ‘best laid plans’, and all that shit. I still have no idea of how I’ve lived like this for so long. There were gaps, of course, but they are gone for good and there is nothing on the fucking horizon. Clambake. I don’t understand why things must be as they are. I’ve done bad in my life, but not that much. Doesn’t everyone fuck up from time to time? I have fucked up situations in the past. Am I the only one? Do my circumstances differ much from other people? I will never know because no one is listening. I saw them. They are not mine. I can see them whenever and wherever I wish, but they cannot be mine, nor can I be even remotely close to them. I will see them again and equate the vision to the damaging dreams. I will see them over and over because this is the life I have crafted in order to deal with so many holes inside me (one, mostly). I will se them again and fucking yearn as I have yearned for little else. The Passion, perhaps, but that is a power unlike the others. I need to see them. I need too much. I do not see what I desire; I only see damage and disaster. This will still not garner the label ‘unfair’. I can’t do that because the word does not fit. I am the result of circumstances, nothing more. Shit situations, for sure, and as much as those times may have been unfair in their own right, the resulting emotions I feel and a diminished mental condition are not. I have dived into the sin. I have placed myself knowingly in damaging, dreamy situations for the purposes of finding what I need and discarding everything else. As such, I have partially damned myself. The shit situations existed prior to my deviant behavior, but that is not to say they are wholly responsible. I know what I am. I also know this paragraph has gone off the fucking rails because I cannot begin a thought and then follow through in a meaningful fashion. To put this shit into perspective, whatever I’ve done and however desperate my heart has become, the fact is that I should not be here. I should not be in this hellish place. You can look at terms such as ‘unfair’ or ‘deserving’ all day long; I don’t care. I need a measure of control in everyday life. Unfortunately, the most important type of control is most decidedly beyond my ability. Draw your own conclusion. I fucking hate this situation. This is the type of day in which everything swirls inside my head and I become very angry, although there is nothing I can do about it. The last part of that sentence generates even more fucking anger. What am I to do? Move into the garage and swing the hammer? That accomplishes nothing. Should I have something to eat? Equally meaningless. This lack of recourse is going to cause damage very soon. I have no options right now. And before you point out that some of this has been caused by my actions and decisions, believe me when I say that I already fucking know as much. Shut the fuck up. I know everything. I am going to lose my fucking mind soon. I really don’t need this shit. There is enough in life already trying to secure the reins. I have to do something else with my day before the anger pulls me in horrible directions. Another war is beginning to form inside my head. Today is Wednesday. I do not want a repeat of yesterday, either. That was a bad day. I was already upset enough about several different conditions and did not need anything piled on top. It happened anyway. I will need to adjust the way my hours pass in order to avoid that shit in the future. Something, anyway. I don’t know. Today is wide open; good and bad. Bad? Situation. You can fuck your design. I am going to the big hardware store today for no other reason than extrication. I need to get information out of my brain for a little while because I’m fucking losing it. I don’t want everything to go to shit today. The feeling of destruction is already in mind and will fester if I do not pay constant attention. I have already resigned myself to losing this battle, too. There is no way I can make it out of all this. Such a lesson came along with yesterday’s horrible realization that what has been made to disappear from my life will not return, ever. This is very hurtful. Knowing that my dreams will never materialize again means I will dwell increasingly on the past, and that is the activity which first began to drive me out of society. Reality gave way to fantasy because I lived in short segments of the latter. I lived through them and came out the other side a bit smaller and more disillusioned, every time. Now? All of it has summed inside me and helped to paint the way to the future, one marked by sadness and loss. There is nothing on my horizon, no one near the doorstep, and no one listening. I hate the fact that I already know everything before the fucking second hand ticks one more hash mark forward. I see the painting. I already know. I already fucking know. I can’t go over all those numbers anymore. One to four, and then those Goddamned calculations that always leave me feeling as if the future could not be enough no matter what may happen. All the fucking good in the world could come to my door and open possibilities left and right, yet I already know of the volume and the numbers. I already know, for the fifth time. The fact remains that there is simply not enough fucking time. The numbers and calculations have taken their toll and the more I recall the periods, the worse everything feels. I can’t find a way out of this shit no matter which way I turn. 0844. The time on the clock no longer matters in the grand scheme. I am not going anywhere, nor will I rise. I began to mark the time a few years ago for some reason that I cannot recall. Maybe I thought this was going to be something more than it is. I don’t know, and such a fact is simply one more thing in the world about which I don’t fucking care. I’ve been trying to find answers for a very long time. The days, weeks and months pass, and nothing changes. I have found zero insight. I have learned very little. Those ears of the past have slighted, lied, placated and misunderstood everything in existence. They have also ‘squished’, a practice I mastered many years ago for very different reasons, none of them self-serving. The bed is unmade. This is the real doctrine. Nothing to do with desperation or desire. Sin? I don’t even know what the fuck that word means anymore. I’ve decided to make up my own terms to describe my feelings and none of them will appear here because nothing I say matters in the least. I am beginning to think that I no longer matter, either. Isn’t that great? Another clambake for the ages? Maybe. The doctrine can’t be altered. Words from others will only annoy me. There remains zero trust inside me. Zero. Not even those closest are without an agenda. And what is my agenda? You make the call. I go about my daily business, shop when necessary, and then sit here and type. If I am having a negative effect upon other people through these actions, I have a bridge to sell you. You are dead wrong. I’ve been searching, nothing more. I am just a little person and do not know how to live life without making mistakes, but at least I know it. Many in society feel the opposite. I’ve seen it. I cannot align with such behavior because all of the bad things in the past molded me into a person who thinks far too much. I think until I find reasons, meaning I watch and listen rather than press my views. My views don’t matter. I really don’t know how to adequately describe anything here, so that’s that. No more. I need to get the fuck away from this machine for a little while. Nothing pleases me anymore, so I don’t have a clue what to do. The shit from last year is weighing heavily on my mind, as is the other thing that I still don’t fucking understand. Well, I suppose I can stop trying. Sitting here typing words about subjects that no one can ever identify is a galactic waste of time. Thursday has arrived, for whatever good it may do. I have my nice coffee and the dragons over there to the right. The morning is quiet so far. I have a little time before the early business. Right now my main concern is negative thinking. All I can do is sit here and push back. The frame returned to my garage last night, though. At least I can focus on the beginning of assembly for a while today. The work might help me remain upright and distracted. Lately, the most difficult world in my vocabulary is ‘thinking’, although I still need it each day. I can think my way out of any difficulty when it comes to projects and whatnot, but in life? I think about the past. My mind hit a wall yesterday, too. I can’t describe it, though. Just know that I am a tad closer to the ground as a result. Thursday is here regardless of my feelings. Speaking of ‘things’, the one from last year continues to plague me, most notably when I have been dreaming of the past. Yesterday I found myself in the middle of two disparate issues at the same time and am proud of myself for not completely blowing up inside. This has nothing to do with the damaging dreams, either. It is an unrelated concern which likely came about very slowly in the background while I was not paying attention. Either that, or I had been distracted enough to believe it was not a big deal at the time. Now? I am worried that something wonderful may be disappearing forever. Or maybe it’s already gone. Nothing else in the world has the power to sway me a greater distance from the path of life. I am routed; railed, and there is seemingly one less reason for me to be a decent person. I have a few thoughts about how and why this change has taken place, too, and that means I can put the disdain aside at times. I don’t believe there are words to express my mood this morning. It’s almost time for a little business before my quiet hours. 0819. I can’t do anything from this fucking chair. Yesterday upset me quite a bit, and then the thought that I have absolutely no recourse with regard to ANYTHING in life, well... I was on the edge of the world for a little while until I found the strength to calm myself. I still don’t want bad things happening. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later. I always thought this type of situation would result in the reverse condition, but I was wrong. Perhaps I pushed the idea away because I was afraid of such a consideration. Conversely, this may be the result of being squished for many years. All the way back to that difficult period, I’ve brought up the idea that one person curtailed everything and the ensuing years were simply a slow burn. Right now I am uncertain as to the truth. In any case, the problem is here and is very real, leaving me to worry every fucking day about the combination of the near and far past having shaped me into a person with no possibility of joy. More doctrine? Maybe. I can feel the problem nagging me inside at this very moment, too. Nothing goes away. Issues simply become diluted by whatever else may be happening each day. I am not going to do this much longer. The point escapes me right now and I don’t see a way of solving anything brought to this content during the last three years (or more). I continue to feel worse with each passing day, the future still appears dim, and the problems I am experiencing press on me with increasing force. I just don’t see a reason to try. If I decide to return my brain to the fictional stories, they will be for me alone, no one else. The site will continue to live, though. As much as I have found little reason to record my thoughts, there is even less reason to remove the content I’ve published over the years. This is not helping me but it may help someone else. Not much chance of that, yet even if there is only a smidgen, the words will remain alive. The coffee is almost gone and I may move away from the keyboard soon. I like my office and this machine. They can be used for other endeavors. Maybe I’ll return; maybe not. I do not want anyone aware of the processes inside my head anymore.”
Doctrine, et Alia
Mature content No. 372 Published May 11th, 2023 9:14am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"1141. Does the time matter? Sunday morning. I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night. There were situations in my head that would not leave no matter the effort. Some were related to the program we’ve been following during recent evenings, yet that story is nothing terrible. For some reason, imagery and ideas stunted my ability to relax for a long while. Thankfully, none of the other dreams invaded the night. I don’t need any more of that shit. Dreams are half the reason I am so fucked up. Those idyllic situations arise in the night and then I awaken to realize that life is not really worth it anymore. Some I do not remember, of course, yet far too many visions have developed inside me and not left for months, if not longer. The most stirring, damaging pictures upon which I dwell every single fucking day seem to be permanent. When I try to rest myself at night, all this shit comes to mind and I fear for my sleep quality. Not good. I could really use some fucking nice moments of offset all this other difficult shit. Each morning finds me a little bit more pissed off than the previous. Marvelous. Clambake. I don’t know what today has in store. The usual business awaits, of course, along with whatever else I may decide to tackle. Conversely, I may opt to do nothing beyond my typical mid-morning routine. The motivation will come to me, or it won’t. Right now I have no idea how things will progress today. The hours alone have equal chances of working for or against me. As I said above, nice things would be very good for my outlook right fucking now. They may not exist at all, unfortunately, and the more I recall being in the fold of comfort and understanding, the darker my future appears. A road with no turns? Eh... I’ve used that oversimplification too much already. If the day is to work well for me, I’ll have to be the catalyst. There is no other way. I suppose that means everything depends upon my mood. By late morning yesterday I was ready to blow up the garage and make a statement of my negative condition. Once it faded, the idea of swinging the hammer and ignoring others faded quite a bit and began to feel alien again. I don’t know what may happen inside my head later. Roll the dice. The carousel never ceases its motion. Maybe I dwell upon stirring visions for too long. The girl in the parking lot, for example, is now like some animation looping over and over inside me. She was a combination of two others, as well, and carried the most amazing sections of each. Perhaps I should not have turned after passing her. That was a mistake, I guess. I don’t know. Some overly beautiful people move around society and expect no one to look at them. That type of thinking does not compute. I looked at her and turned to see her form from the back. That is a clear indication that my desperation continues and has even grown since last year. Very bad. But why? No one is listening. I’ll probably never see her again, and I’m thinking that the likelihood of a similar form appearing in reality is pretty fucking slender, just like that girl’s legs. Whatever. Yes, I do dwell upon too much; the past, forms I’ve seen, the damaging dreams, etc. I am unhealthy in that way. I do not lift a finger to help myself very often and the effects are weighing heavily lately. I believe my concern over how this shit is shaping my future is what kept me awake last night. I could be wrong, though. Oh, God damn it all... I really wish I could actually say what I mean (and need). If I’ve become a desperate fool for the visions, just imagine how I must feel about needing the right type of understanding. That’s a bad one. Again... Into the past I go... Ashley was the beginning of that and not a soul on earth has the slightest inkling as to what she told me. Unhealthy. Broken. Empty. Desperate. Weak. Sad. 0834. I am not happy with myself today. I feel incapable of accomplishing anything. Something will come to mind, I guess. It always does, be it sooner or later. 1059 is on the little clock. My routine is finished and I have the next several hours to myself. Part of my Sunday garbage work is out of the way and the rest will come in time. Right now I need to take a break from everything and think. Last night I was at sixes and sevens for quite a while and the last situation I want today is a repeat. I just can’t have that shit. My housework helped to cause the imagery and dreams to fade for a while. They have yet to come back in force. I have enough shit swirling inside already. Oh, gawd help me... The desire that burns inside me when I see that girl. Not THAT one, the girl on the screen right now. Hence the title of this mess. Anyway, I’ll have to kick into gear soon, perhaps when this cocktail is fully consumed. I’d like to remain ahead – if not on – schedule today. And then Nathalie? I could live the rest of my fucked up life with my lips on her shoulders. Good Christ... I need no more of this shit. This may be the time to switch the streaming media to something without so many fucking visions. 1329. I successfully extracted a broken bolt from the cylinder head of the old engine, thus paving the way for assembly once I make a trip to the hardware store. Sunday is not the best day to head over there, especially considering the abundant sunshine today. At least I have the engine ready. Oh, boy... My neighbor called because our other neighbor caught someone on his doorbell video very early this morning slinking around the court just off my west wall. That changes a few things. I may alter my daily schedule in order to be awake during the wee hours so my presence is seen by anyone wishing to cruise our street on foot while everyone else is asleep. The time for defensive mode is at hand. Thumbs up and down, as it were. We do not take kindly to crime around here. Onward. The last few weeks have summed inside my head and are beginning to indicate that this period is the end of my life. The memories of adventures and dreamy landscapes are cutting me to ribbons via the realization that there had been many ‘things’ I wanted to do, and even more time to achieve them. Well, the time has been squandered thanks to the shit situations of the past. Everything caught up with me and I am seeing far less time ahead than behind. Today, for example... Sunday has become my favorite day of the week, with Monday holding at a close second. That means if I am unable to fully pull myself out of the din today, the downhill slide has become even more dramatic than I had thought some months ago. I am so unhappy that words fail. There is sunshine today, too. This would typically be a very productive and comfortable part of the week, yet my insides will not let up. The glowing years are increasing in both brightness and importance. They have defined a good portion of who I am, and who I was. This is so very depressing. I always thought that the time ahead was abundant. Now I see the fruit of those fucking seeds. I don’t understand why such parts of life came to pass as they did. 1518. I cleaned the office window and the garbage business is all but finished. Just a few loose ends and that stuff will be over with today. For a little while, I had a full head of steam just after finishing with the engine, but lo and behold, the dreams and missing pieces have again ruined me. Some time ago there had been little glimpses; glimmers of hope that the understanding could be found. All of it was bullshit. But I cleaned the office window. Very exciting. Now I can stare out at the world going by as I sit here and rot away. Nothing else will be accomplished today because none of it seems to matter anymore. If I am going to be completely unhappy and in constant turmoil, why lift a finger to further anything? Oh, I’m sure there will be moments when I pop up and care for something in need. I just don’t see any of it right now, that’s all. Maybe I am already dead.
Monday. Coffee and rampant sadness. Thank goodness I’ll be alone for much of the day. I don’t believe anyone would want to be near me for very long considering my shitty mood. And I don’t blame anyone for that. I wouldn’t want to be around a person such as myself, either. Today being Monday helps to make the week feel wide open to many possibilities. Whether or not this feeling remains inside me as the hours progress is another matter entirely. The morning time is always quiet. It allows me to think. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I did not have an easy time of things yesterday. My head became all clogged up with shit from the past, which brought me down, and interspersed with imagery that breeds wonder, which accomplishes nothing more than fanning the flames of sadness and depression. There is so much behind me now, and the realization that this current situation might be all I have yet to live brought me down considerably. I had a hell of a climb just to prepare and cook dinner. Afterward was my typical relaxation while partially watching a program prior to bed. The previous night found me more fucked up than I can remember, whereas last night was not quite that bad. I mean, the holes inside are constantly at the forefront of whatever I may be doing at a given time, but there was less, for sure. This morning I don’t know what to think. The day may turn out to be good or bad, and along with whichever of those will be more sadness. I just don’t understand why the world turned out this way. All I can do today is try to avoid the pit into which I fell yesterday. One way to do that is to finally take that damned trip to the big hardware store over the hill. Doing so will allow me to further a few projects and kill a bit of the clock at the same time. I really don’t want a repeat of the din from yesterday, and even now with the clock displaying merely 0808 in the morning, I can already feel disaster on the horizon. I really don’t want that kind of shit today. It ruins everything. Baby steps, I suppose. And I’ve been considering going to that big store for a couple of months, or at least at the outset of tearing down the bike. I don’t know what the rest of this year has in store for me. I realize that part of my situation is due to yearning when I see something special, and my head and eyes are under my control, literally. The root cause of such desperation, however, is most decidedly out of my hands. I am not responsible for routing and squishing, lies and other deceptive turns of the cards. I am fucking not. I will say that when I leave the house there is a part of me wishing for a vision. I really need to see what I need to see these days. My head turns and my eyes pull focus quite often before I really think about what I am doing. The action has become instinctive, to be sure, yet the movement is something I still consider completely under my control. I will take responsibility for such things. What I will not do is sit here and believe that the reason such an instinct takes over my reasoning at high speed is due to the way I’ve lived my life. No fucking way. My behavior is rooted in treatment by others. Them. Those fucking people. Oh, and two other things. Anyway, driving away from home is not the worst thing in the world, even considering what I saw last week. I have survived numerous excursions all over the place in recent months. I will survive again, and today may actually be chopped to workable segments in such a way so as to help me arrive in the opposite hemisphere of the clock in one piece. Right now I don’t know, though. I am trying to keep my head on straight. 0858. I have the laundry running already and the last of the coffee is next to me. I can’t get the imagery out of my brain, damn it. I keep seeing those moments over and over as if someone is running a slide show from which I can’t look away. Every fucking word I type is a chore. My mind is going back in time on and off this morning, sometimes the near past and then the long past, all the way back to that girl who taught me to think of my world in different terms. She may have been the beginning of the machine, but I can’t be certain anymore. Every theory is a guess. Perhaps I would be having an easier time of it had I not asked her to dinner all those years ago. I wouldn’t have known. Well... Too late for that shit, eh? The day will progress when this coffee is gone, I guess. The daily routine first and then maybe the hardware store. I need the clock to be my friend today as opposed to being an enemy like most days. I don’t have the first damned clue as to how I can get this shit out of my head in order to further my work. I need some fucking help, damn it all. I just need help. I often muse that I’ve seen too much, yet I keep searching. If I try to stifle the search, the memories will take over for lack of something else pulling my attention. If I venture into society and look around, the visions cause distress, turmoil and torment, and then I return home and equate whatever I’ve seen with the fucking memories. The girl last week caused me to travel all the way back to the RF period and the one behind the counter at the electronics store. Had I not seen that girl in the parking lot, the issue of remembering one of the most stirring beauties ever would not have arisen, but I am certain something else would have occurred in her place. I have seen plenty. The search is damaging, yet so is sitting here avoiding contact with the outside world. I honestly do not know which is worse. Perhaps neither. No matter what does or does not take place on a given day, the result inside me is a mass of desperate desire, and then I am forced to simply sit on the emotions and live with it. The conclusion is that whatever I decide, my condition will worsen, hence the idea of continuing to search. Cut me a fucking break because I have no answers. Keep looking? Seeking? What? My coffee is almost gone and I’m tired of sitting here trying to find anything that helps. I suppose it’s time for some housework. 1126. I have a second load of laundry rolling in the dryer and my daily routine is finished. Cocktail. Sadness. What has become doctrine is now ruling my thinking. Not everything is sad, though. There is also anger present. I am doing my best to keep it in the background lest I flip the fuck out. I am still uncertain about taking a trip to the hardware store, too. As much as I need to remain in this little house, sometimes circumstances require that I step out and take care of some business. If and when I do drive, my insides will be twisted. Sometimes I don’t know how I lived this long. The site can no longer be fully validated due to some deprecated code. Ugh. Maybe I should remove the XML, XHTML and CSS labels. Or maybe I should leave everything alone because I own the motherfucker and there are no rules governing some portions of the ‘fuckin’ intanet’. I just don’t care anymore. This site is nearly 400 pages deep with more than 200,000 lines of code. Changing anything aside from the precious master page is a chore and I am nowhere near being in the mood for such crap. One more time for posterity... Whatever. I don’t believe the Internet ‘police’ will come here and mandate that I alter the fucking content. Heh. I hope I make it all the way to the close of business hours today. And my short-term memory is continuing to diminish. Negatives are piling atop other negatives. Just imagine if I owned the audio equipment I REALLY wanted. Had I not purchased this very machine two months ago I could have afforded roughly ten percent of the audio system I desired. Think about that for a minute. Do you remember my mention that there is no defense against RF power? Learn something. I switched from video media to music. Nothing crazy, though. Just something my mom and I discovered while visiting The Good Guys store in Dublin during the glow. We had been awaiting my dad’s return from one of the listening rooms when we overheard quiet music emanating from a system perched on an endcap. She asked if there was any way I could learn of the artist, so I took the initiative and ejected the disc to see the name. And? The Glow will henceforth be capitalized because its importance grows with each passing moment. I am falling down right now. My drink is nearly gone. A second can lead to either more depression, death, or a ton of housework. I must decide if number two is worth the danger. Ugh. This music may have been a mistake. I am a tiny, insignificant soul sitting at a computer in a small town. I am airing my feelings, in a manner of speaking, and expect nothing good in the future. The nature of the grand scheme dictates that I am almost meaningless. That equates to my words being meaningless. No one is listening. Let us hope I do not commit suicide today. And no, I am not seeking attention because what I am writing here in the cloud would not be published for days. If I wanted attention, I’d speak to a person and express the same concern. Right now? Me here alone and unpublished? No one would know until they found me.
Look up the conversation between Russell Means and Tom Hanks from ‘The Green Mile’; their short exchange just prior to the former’s execution in the electric chair. That is what I am wondering at this very moment. Trust that my situation is dire. I am very pleased with myself over chopping communication with everyone save for damned few individuals. They are out of my life and will perpetually remain as such unless something completely unexpected and very rare takes place. That type of situation is most unlikely, so here I sit... Alone for the duration. The fact that I published an entry many years ago which included the words ‘the end of all things’ in the title seems hilarious now. I was in a better mental and emotional condition at the time, yet did not realize it until several years later. The end is coming. It is only a matter of time. Don’t worry, though. I’ll provide proof. 1213. My heart is hurting right now because the separation of myself from other people means I have no one with whom to share anything. Eh, my heart is not hurting. It is breaking. Please excuse me for a few minutes while I go to the garage and cry. Tuesday. I am still sad. A bit more each morning, actually. Something bad is going to happen. I need... I suppose yesterday was ok, although memories and feelings of loss followed along through all of my work around the house. Not a fucking second passed without me considering all that is gone (likely forever). I believe the dreams which invaded early this morning resulted from all of my sadness yesterday. When I feel sad, I become very needy. That need likely forced my subconscious to create strangeness in the night. I remember bits and pieces. I know how those images came about and I know what was going on in that house. Now I have to try leaving it all behind in order to function today. Disaster is always looming if I am not careful. Yesterday I took care of quite a bit of work around this house and I intend to continue similar efforts later this morning. I have learned that there is a point in time – after the morning coffee – when my brain reaches some sort of threshold, leaving the difficult, early feelings behind and grabbing hold of a different type of mood due to a combination of fear and anger. It is also a realization, yet one I can’t fully discuss here. The loss becomes amplified and I feel completely defeated in life and stuck in one small space, seemingly for the rest of my days. This is not good and it develops inside me roughly five days out of seven.I look at the clock each morning and know that the time will arrive soon enough, after which I will become sad and angry with exactly zero effective consequences under my control. I cannot do anything about this, and that is the main reason for me feeling so desperate. Talking to myself; walking in circles; dreaming of everything that is gone and all that I need so badly... Those are the three tenets which now shape my every thought and move through each second of each day. I can’t even begin to describe the rest. This is plenty. I know of nothing that can help me, nor is there anyone listening. Chopping communication has its downside, I suppose. Some viewers of this show figured that Nathalie’s hair was not attractive and thus pushed her down the list of favorite female characters. Well, I feel the reverse. Her hair is fantastic. The main appeal is her beautiful face, though. The hair just frames it very well. The manner of my thinking has been made more severe in recent years, most notably since one year ago and those dreams I’ve mentioned so often. My thinking has also become dire, as if my heart has moved into a place of so much loneliness that if something does not change, nothing else will matter and I’ll have to go away. To the first point, I have found that my reaction to certain stimuli – such as being in the market or seeing something on the televisions – has become inflated far beyond anything real. That is to say the level of desperation comes out when I talk to myself. I am alone nearly all of the time, so speaking out loud matters not. No one is going to hear me, and even if a person caught wind of words that I utter, they would likely be hard-pressed to understand. The more I think and see, the more I speak, and every now and then I notice a change in the nature of what I am saying. This is true because I am always paying attention and have grown into an extremely detail-oriented person in recent years. The problem here is that the future could be at risk if I do not improve myself, and that means any recipient of truth coming from me would label me and move away at a decent clip. I am not saying that to be funny, either. None of this is fucking funny. I know myself and am beginning to see that the past jokes I’ve made regarding ending up in a ‘basement’ were not so far-fetched. I don’t even know if I can hold my tongue around other people, especially if I see or am reminded of some errant vision. I believe sometimes I think in harsher terms than even one year ago and the words probably come flying off my tongue before I realize it. I am alone almost all of the time and have lost the need to align myself with societal ‘norms’. This is bad, and just another straw. At least I know what the fuck I’m doing and don’t deny that I’ve lost part of my mind. 0807. I have no idea how I am going to feel later today. The only fact is that due to all of the laundry and dry cleaning I completed yesterday, if I am to remain busy I’ll have to move in other directions. I wish I could know if these feelings are to fade later on. I have control of the media and know to avoid certain programs at varying times, yet memories do not conform with my needs most of the time. Something jabs at my brain and becomes lodged so deeply that I can’t rid myself of the desire, and the only trajectory once that takes place is toward the negative. If I can remain mindful of the shitty consequences that accompany the issue of falling on my face, perhaps the day will progress smoothly. Right now? I don’t fucking know. My typical stuff is always completed at some point. Always. As for the rest, I honestly cannot predict. There are images from one dream nagging at my brain right now, the shit from last year sitting on my head as it does every fucking day, and the knowledge that I am moving into a bleak future with little choice in anything. That is a lot to grade aside just for the sake of housework. But then again, what else do I have? My entire universe comprises just under six thousand square feet. That is all. Second cup of coffee. Bad, bad, bad situation here. Very bad. Of course none of the girls on this page real. Get your head out of your ass. Reality has ruined me. Why would I want it here? Stick it in your syringe and shoot it. This series should be subheaded as ‘stereotyping and generalization within a medieval setting’. Laugh it up. It’s a little funny, I guess. I switched programs again yesterday because the second show ran its course. I started the fifth again. That is the single series that does not force me to dream of the film industry or my desire to be within such a universe. I can’t define the difference. And despite tons of Jolene all over the screen, I seem to have fewer issues watching that series than most of the others. Once it is done, I’ll go all the way back to the beginning. This is what I do, and it guarantees that my head will not be affected nearly as much as the alternatives dictate. They are my family. I love and need them. The sadness is beginning to take control of me this morning. I may have to begin the routine earlier than usual. Maybe avoiding a drive to the hardware store yesterday was a good thing. I can head over there today and break up the clock some. I may need that much of a distraction to get the dreams and desperation out of my brain for a little while. There are photos flipping along, some of them creating short motion pictures which I am powerless to stop. That thing from last year; the other thing from years earlier of which I was reminded not long ago; everything is rolled up and flipping along, far beyond my control. The resulting sadness will probably turn to anger, and if I decide to drink a touch more than usual, the likelihood of depression dictating the rest of my day will be increased ten-fold. Not good.
The last bastion of human endeavor may have disappeared from my life for all time. I can’t be certain, of course, because the future may hold possibilities of which I am currently unaware, yet the evidence and nature of my thinking are pushing me in that direction. If true, I will not know for years, unfortunately, and that means the search will continue unimpeded. I do not know of another way of living. I mentioned that the way my mind operates has changed markedly in the past year. It may continue in this vein until I become completely unable to function. This morning has demonstrated that no matter what I may be engaged in, the thoughts are always right behind my eyes. They do not leave for a second and have held me back from advancing myself, finding some type of work, and furthering any open projects in this fucking house. I don’t know whether to be angry, sad, or some hellish combination of both. This is a very bad time. Right now the only light I see is a section of the clock being devoted to alone time. I need not concern myself with people or anything else unless I choose to. Visiting the hardware store would be nothing more than a temporary distraction from this dark place. I experienced that ‘thing’ and then saw it. The instinct is to explore further, yet the way society has developed in general, and my world in particular, the chance of such a circumstance is so slim I would need a laser micrometer in order to measure it. I saw it and knew the effect was similar, although I could not speak about it. I need to, as well. I need to speak with someone about it almost as badly as I need to go back in time to repeat the occurrence. The former is improbable and frightening, and the latter is impossible. I am in a bad spot here because as I mentioned above, the last bastion may be gone forever. I know some of the reasons. Not all, but some. I do not know how to go about pursuing this topic in the future, if it is possible at all. I just don’t fucking know, and no one is there to listen. My coffee is almost gone, meaning I’ll have to head out of this office and begin my housework soon. I don’t want to sit here and lose my mind trying to say all this without actually saying anything. The process is exhausting and makes me very sad. Having been driven to such a state is killing me. The mere fact that my mind has to try exploring different aspects of the way my life has unfolded is sad in and of itself. This process is also fucking exhausting. But? Here I am anyway, and at some point every fucking day of the week. Maybe the housework can assist my head. Oh, and the title is related to the last bastion of human endeavor. Trust me. The time is now 1120 and my daily routine is finished. The dishes are drip-drying as has become my custom of late. Using the towels on fewer occasions and for less time actually saves water. I realize it’s not a big difference, but if I can reduce two percent of the usage, the bottom line is I’m using two percent less. That type of calculation goes back to the Midwest period and our attempts to minimize the salt effects upon the car chassis. Believe it. And? Whatever. This is my life. I have my requisite morning cocktail and free time for the next few hours. As I worked through the morning, I walked like a zombie, meaning each step was a chore. And with each of those steps came thoughts of the gaping holes inside me and of the end. Wait... What? I’ve been considering the ramifications of disappearing, insofar as the possible effects upon those who know me. This is a controversial subject and I will only say so much on the site. Just know that plans are being laid. I have much to analyze these days. The ‘best laid plans’, and all that shit. I still have no idea of how I’ve lived like this for so long. There were gaps, of course, but they are gone for good and there is nothing on the fucking horizon. Clambake. I don’t understand why things must be as they are. I’ve done bad in my life, but not that much. Doesn’t everyone fuck up from time to time? I have fucked up situations in the past. Am I the only one? Do my circumstances differ much from other people? I will never know because no one is listening. I saw them. They are not mine. I can see them whenever and wherever I wish, but they cannot be mine, nor can I be even remotely close to them. I will see them again and equate the vision to the damaging dreams. I will see them over and over because this is the life I have crafted in order to deal with so many holes inside me (one, mostly). I will se them again and fucking yearn as I have yearned for little else. The Passion, perhaps, but that is a power unlike the others. I need to see them. I need too much. I do not see what I desire; I only see damage and disaster. This will still not garner the label ‘unfair’. I can’t do that because the word does not fit. I am the result of circumstances, nothing more. Shit situations, for sure, and as much as those times may have been unfair in their own right, the resulting emotions I feel and a diminished mental condition are not. I have dived into the sin. I have placed myself knowingly in damaging, dreamy situations for the purposes of finding what I need and discarding everything else. As such, I have partially damned myself. The shit situations existed prior to my deviant behavior, but that is not to say they are wholly responsible. I know what I am. I also know this paragraph has gone off the fucking rails because I cannot begin a thought and then follow through in a meaningful fashion. To put this shit into perspective, whatever I’ve done and however desperate my heart has become, the fact is that I should not be here. I should not be in this hellish place. You can look at terms such as ‘unfair’ or ‘deserving’ all day long; I don’t care. I need a measure of control in everyday life. Unfortunately, the most important type of control is most decidedly beyond my ability. Draw your own conclusion. I fucking hate this situation. This is the type of day in which everything swirls inside my head and I become very angry, although there is nothing I can do about it. The last part of that sentence generates even more fucking anger. What am I to do? Move into the garage and swing the hammer? That accomplishes nothing. Should I have something to eat? Equally meaningless. This lack of recourse is going to cause damage very soon. I have no options right now. And before you point out that some of this has been caused by my actions and decisions, believe me when I say that I already fucking know as much. Shut the fuck up. I know everything. I am going to lose my fucking mind soon. I really don’t need this shit. There is enough in life already trying to secure the reins. I have to do something else with my day before the anger pulls me in horrible directions. Another war is beginning to form inside my head. Today is Wednesday. I do not want a repeat of yesterday, either. That was a bad day. I was already upset enough about several different conditions and did not need anything piled on top. It happened anyway. I will need to adjust the way my hours pass in order to avoid that shit in the future. Something, anyway. I don’t know. Today is wide open; good and bad. Bad? Situation. You can fuck your design. I am going to the big hardware store today for no other reason than extrication. I need to get information out of my brain for a little while because I’m fucking losing it. I don’t want everything to go to shit today. The feeling of destruction is already in mind and will fester if I do not pay constant attention. I have already resigned myself to losing this battle, too. There is no way I can make it out of all this. Such a lesson came along with yesterday’s horrible realization that what has been made to disappear from my life will not return, ever. This is very hurtful. Knowing that my dreams will never materialize again means I will dwell increasingly on the past, and that is the activity which first began to drive me out of society. Reality gave way to fantasy because I lived in short segments of the latter. I lived through them and came out the other side a bit smaller and more disillusioned, every time. Now? All of it has summed inside me and helped to paint the way to the future, one marked by sadness and loss. There is nothing on my horizon, no one near the doorstep, and no one listening. I hate the fact that I already know everything before the fucking second hand ticks one more hash mark forward. I see the painting. I already know. I already fucking know.
I can’t go over all those numbers anymore. One to four, and then those Goddamned calculations that always leave me feeling as if the future could not be enough no matter what may happen. All the fucking good in the world could come to my door and open possibilities left and right, yet I already know of the volume and the numbers. I already know, for the fifth time. The fact remains that there is simply not enough fucking time. The numbers and calculations have taken their toll and the more I recall the periods, the worse everything feels. I can’t find a way out of this shit no matter which way I turn. 0844. The time on the clock no longer matters in the grand scheme. I am not going anywhere, nor will I rise. I began to mark the time a few years ago for some reason that I cannot recall. Maybe I thought this was going to be something more than it is. I don’t know, and such a fact is simply one more thing in the world about which I don’t fucking care. I’ve been trying to find answers for a very long time. The days, weeks and months pass, and nothing changes. I have found zero insight. I have learned very little. Those ears of the past have slighted, lied, placated and misunderstood everything in existence. They have also ‘squished’, a practice I mastered many years ago for very different reasons, none of them self-serving. The bed is unmade. This is the real doctrine. Nothing to do with desperation or desire. Sin? I don’t even know what the fuck that word means anymore. I’ve decided to make up my own terms to describe my feelings and none of them will appear here because nothing I say matters in the least. I am beginning to think that I no longer matter, either. Isn’t that great? Another clambake for the ages? Maybe. The doctrine can’t be altered. Words from others will only annoy me. There remains zero trust inside me. Zero. Not even those closest are without an agenda. And what is my agenda? You make the call. I go about my daily business, shop when necessary, and then sit here and type. If I am having a negative effect upon other people through these actions, I have a bridge to sell you. You are dead wrong. I’ve been searching, nothing more. I am just a little person and do not know how to live life without making mistakes, but at least I know it. Many in society feel the opposite. I’ve seen it. I cannot align with such behavior because all of the bad things in the past molded me into a person who thinks far too much. I think until I find reasons, meaning I watch and listen rather than press my views. My views don’t matter. I really don’t know how to adequately describe anything here, so that’s that. No more. I need to get the fuck away from this machine for a little while. Nothing pleases me anymore, so I don’t have a clue what to do. The shit from last year is weighing heavily on my mind, as is the other thing that I still don’t fucking understand. Well, I suppose I can stop trying. Sitting here typing words about subjects that no one can ever identify is a galactic waste of time. Thursday has arrived, for whatever good it may do. I have my nice coffee and the dragons over there to the right. The morning is quiet so far. I have a little time before the early business. Right now my main concern is negative thinking. All I can do is sit here and push back. The frame returned to my garage last night, though. At least I can focus on the beginning of assembly for a while today. The work might help me remain upright and distracted. Lately, the most difficult world in my vocabulary is ‘thinking’, although I still need it each day. I can think my way out of any difficulty when it comes to projects and whatnot, but in life? I think about the past. My mind hit a wall yesterday, too. I can’t describe it, though. Just know that I am a tad closer to the ground as a result. Thursday is here regardless of my feelings. Speaking of ‘things’, the one from last year continues to plague me, most notably when I have been dreaming of the past. Yesterday I found myself in the middle of two disparate issues at the same time and am proud of myself for not completely blowing up inside. This has nothing to do with the damaging dreams, either. It is an unrelated concern which likely came about very slowly in the background while I was not paying attention. Either that, or I had been distracted enough to believe it was not a big deal at the time. Now? I am worried that something wonderful may be disappearing forever. Or maybe it’s already gone. Nothing else in the world has the power to sway me a greater distance from the path of life. I am routed; railed, and there is seemingly one less reason for me to be a decent person. I have a few thoughts about how and why this change has taken place, too, and that means I can put the disdain aside at times. I don’t believe there are words to express my mood this morning. It’s almost time for a little business before my quiet hours. 0819. I can’t do anything from this fucking chair. Yesterday upset me quite a bit, and then the thought that I have absolutely no recourse with regard to ANYTHING in life, well... I was on the edge of the world for a little while until I found the strength to calm myself. I still don’t want bad things happening. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later. I always thought this type of situation would result in the reverse condition, but I was wrong. Perhaps I pushed the idea away because I was afraid of such a consideration. Conversely, this may be the result of being squished for many years. All the way back to that difficult period, I’ve brought up the idea that one person curtailed everything and the ensuing years were simply a slow burn. Right now I am uncertain as to the truth. In any case, the problem is here and is very real, leaving me to worry every fucking day about the combination of the near and far past having shaped me into a person with no possibility of joy. More doctrine? Maybe. I can feel the problem nagging me inside at this very moment, too. Nothing goes away. Issues simply become diluted by whatever else may be happening each day. I am not going to do this much longer. The point escapes me right now and I don’t see a way of solving anything brought to this content during the last three years (or more). I continue to feel worse with each passing day, the future still appears dim, and the problems I am experiencing press on me with increasing force. I just don’t see a reason to try. If I decide to return my brain to the fictional stories, they will be for me alone, no one else. The site will continue to live, though. As much as I have found little reason to record my thoughts, there is even less reason to remove the content I’ve published over the years. This is not helping me but it may help someone else. Not much chance of that, yet even if there is only a smidgen, the words will remain alive. The coffee is almost gone and I may move away from the keyboard soon. I like my office and this machine. They can be used for other endeavors. Maybe I’ll return; maybe not. I do not want anyone aware of the processes inside my head anymore.”
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