June 12th 2023 11:07am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Two Doors read ( words) "Perhaps all I really need is for those ears to listen and then tell me why I am still alive. The rest may be tertiary. Happiness is relative. Fulfillment might be nothing more than a myth. I will probably never know the truth. 0906. Will today be THE day? Does she understand? No answers. I see a door out of this shit, though. This is how it happens... The morning became dire due to memories, a disastrous situation began to develop, and then everything malfunctioned leaving me an angry pile of discontent. This is not good and it happens all too often. I’ve seen, yet still cannot understand how such situations have come to pass, but I’ll tell you one thing, too much more of this feeling and I’ll fix it the only way I know how. I have the tools. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again... This is how I have developed due to the actions of other people. Unfair? No, I’ve gone over that philosophy too much already. There is no fair or unfair, there is only misery. Carmela often has duck lips. So fucking cute. Her talent far outweighs the beauty, though. Far. Whatever. Thank the maker I am an alcoholic or all of this would be too heavy. That type of thinking is dead wrong, but it is all I have left. I never thought I would be seeing the world this way after all these years. The future used to be wide-open. Now it is black. What a fucking depressing situation this is to be considering where I have been versus where I seem to be headed. Blackness. Buffer stop. At the end of one story, I died on the rails, but when writing that damaging tale, I had no idea it was to become a prophecy. Rails do not bend unless under the weight of the train, and then only downward. Turns? Nope. 1021. Half of the routine is finished. I need to keep the house fairly quiet right now. I also need to work on extracting some imagery from my brain this morning. The more I dwell, the worse I feel, yet at the same time I have a hell of a time trying to find enough motivation to fucking move at all. Ah... There is Jojo again, all lanky and sensitive. That’s the most important part... Her sensitivity. It is exuded through her eyes and tells me that despite the fact that the woman is a fictional character, I need the same type of understanding. She is wonderful. A touch goofy, but wonderful. And holy fuck is that woman tall. Sometimes she reminds me of Fiona or Paulie’s goomar, Michelle. Very sweet and kind all the time. Ugh. What the fuck was I saying before the flaming redhead appeared? Ah... I don’t give a fuck about anything these days. I am going through the motions, nothing more. I have been affected too much. Routed. Squished. Fucked over. I’ll get to the rest of my shit when I feel good and ready. On the upside, the combination of alcohol and the passage of time have all but eliminated my feelings of desire. This is the point in the day when desire turns to anger. Too bad I am nothing more than a tiny person with zero impact upon anything. Tiny. All I have is a keyboard and some web storage. Maybe I should save time and simply drink myself to death. Give me a reason to do otherwise. Go for it. 1106. My flex sockets arrived and they are in excellent shape. The tool array continues to grow. I still have yet to move further with my housework today because of the quiet. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. My schedule is up to me, anyway, so there is no reason for concern. By contrast, the other aspects of my existence are cause for much concern. Those who know me personally should be worried. The only reason I am sitting here at this very moment is the benefit of those little enjoyments of which I’ve spoken on many occasions. When they fail to lift me from the din, there will be no reason to do anything. That means I’ll pull the trigger. I have never felt so insignificant or depressed. Not good. Thankfully, the alcohol has again helped to suppress the mass of physical desire I feel each day. Now all I have to do is live through to evening time. If doing so helps me to feel accomplished in any way, I will make it to tomorrow. I am trying to avoid looking at the door. My preponderance for OCD presses me to ensure the glass of whiskey is always resting squarely on the coaster. That is a little funny. Some aluminum and stainless tubing will be arriving via UPS today. I plan to thread one of the lengths so the adjustment screws on the axles of my truck can be replaced with parts that encapsulate the lines from the steering block rather than just relying upon friction to stay in place when the steering moves one way or the other. I’ve been wanting to solidify the system since last fall when I operated the truck. The process of working on my project helps push away so many damaging feelings that it is almost worthwhile. The downside is that once the steering has been completed to my satisfaction, the entire machine will return to its display case and sit there until I have another idea for improvement. I have no illusions that the truck will ever be completed. I only work on it from time to time in order to forget the rest of my issues. The sum of mental and emotional distress cannot be fully repaired by a hobby, no matter how complex. Distraction is only temporary. Everything returns. I am unhappy and very angry. Nothing in reality can fix both. 1426. Out of gas, both literally and figuratively. I finished the kitchen, had some lunch, and then worked in the garage a bit. Mostly I straightened my tools and work area. I also rolled one bike off the lift and parked it inside so the other one can be returned there for further work. At one point I was tempted to cruise the other neighbor’s bike around the block, too. Yes, I was tempted, but within minutes I was reduced by the prospect like everything else requiring risk. Fear took over before I could even start the engine. Splendid. I haven’t been on two wheels for more than twenty years, and I suppose the self-preservation instinct kicked in before I could take a ride. Moreover, the bike does not belong to me, meaning if anything goes wrong, I am responsible. Maybe I’m too old for fun anymore. I’ll be driving to the bar in about half an hour to catch up with my friend. After all this patio cover bullshit, I’m beginning to believe that there are very few who either take me seriously or care about me at all. Not good. I am so fucking lost. At least I already know that I’ll be pleasantly greeted when I arrive at the bar. That never changes. Right now I feel more like sleeping than driving anywhere. Ugh. Yesterday was not different. The day is now Saturday and I am sitting here without reason yet again. There was a woman in denim shorts shooting pool at the bar last night. At one point she bent over the table with straight legs and I saw symmetrical lines for a moment. The sight would have been nicer if she hadn’t been such a flamboyant type. Slender, too. My partner noticed and stated that the image was incorrect because the shorts were not the ‘torn’ type. Heh. Anyway, aside from seeing her lines a bit, nothing exciting took place over there. Just some conversation. As for being out of the house for a little while, I could honestly take it or leave it. No caring. The day moved along as it did and none of it matters. The morning was key. The French girl is on the screen again. Damn. What I wouldn’t give to... And then AJ and Devin, the latter being a sweet girl I wanted to jump for years. He was rather an idiot, I must say. Anyway, today won’t amount to much because I don’t care. My brain keeps returning to yesterday and I just can’t be positive or happy after such malfunctions and other bullshit. I can’t. I’ll have to embrace the little pleasures. You know, the simple stuff. I have nothing else. I am losing a little bit of direction each day. Soon I will have none. And the French girl again, super-tall and gorgeous. I think she’s growing on me. Where was I? Ah... Today. My routine will be simple, but beyond that, I just don’t know. So far this morning, I feel very down and concerned about the future. I hope this doesn’t reach the point of interrupting my work too much. I really don’t want to completely lose my way. Not now. I need some fucking ears, although that idea also brings up issues. If I speak, the words are out forever. I can’t bring them back, nor will I have any control over the situation. None. If I attempt such a move and later decide it was a mistake, I will not be able to deal with the consequences. The idea seems wonderful at times because I’ve been bottled up for so long that I believe relief would wash over me very quickly. I had a short dream of her again, and that makes the fifth damaging dream so far. Fifth. I can’t go into what I saw, though. The information is far too sensitive for the public domain. No, not intimate; just touchy. The point is my subconscious continues to manufacture scenarios in which she and I are somehow connected. Not good. I am still hung up on her for whatever reason. Of course, one possibility is due to the girl being unattainable. Sometimes that feeling can drive a person to desire the other even more. I don’t know. Anyway, another dream and one more vision. Splendid. I am beginning to wonder how many times I can sit here and say the same things (without really speaking) with different words. Eventually, I will run out of methods and have nothing to do here. I stopped trying to describe the forms I see, as well. I mentioned the woman by the pool table, yet there were no real issues driven by that situation. The others? I don’t see any point in going on about someone because she will disappear and another will come along. That will never end. But to sit here and attempt to convey what I feel during those moments is fucking ridiculous. I’ve gone over that road so many times that the pavement is sinking. As for the rest, well... I don’t know what the fuck else to do in this life. Projects? I can’t get myself to care enough because nothing aside from this exposition feels necessary or even interesting. I like to type, as well. I don’t know why. Honestly, I don’t know much of anything these days. All of my technical knowledge only helps others. My emotional intelligence seems to be waning and is much more important than anything else. I don’t believe mine developed very well over time, and combined with the way I feel these days, the conclusion is that I will never be able to fully connect with anyone. I am a mess, and that could be the main reason for being compelled to continue this shit. And then there is the typing... I love typing. Ugh. I don’t know what to do. The shit from yesterday morning keeps returning whenever I am not paying attention to anything. The issue just floats into my brain and causes a little drop due to knowing that there is only one way to fully understand and/or care for such a problem. Unfortunately, I do not see such a possibility in the future. I am far too disconnected now, and improvement of the situation would require something wholly miraculous. I am worried and scared of this. 0903. The coffee has not been very exciting this morning. But Oksana’s shoulders are an entirely different story. I could lick them all day long. Anyway, I suppose I’ll rise soon and take care of a few things. I am not running at a hundred percent right now but that will change in a little while. Sitting here is not good for ambition. There is always something to be cleaned or reworked. I’ll get away from this machine in a few minutes. 1024. Maybe not yet. My head is so fucked up that I am surprised to accomplish anything these days. Much of it is for distracting myself from the current condition, though. Nothing more. I can’t really get myself to care about anything. Maybe it’s time to thin some possessions again. I’ve been meaning to create space lately, yet not much has been done. I’ll have to gather all of the clothes and other items for donation because they will pick up everything once I schedule a date. That’s really nice. I can’t really do anything about the ever-increasing food, though. I usually just find ways of storing it until the holidays when the scouts run a drive. They also pick up here. If I can move away from this table and begin the housework, perhaps I’ll feel better and be able to suppress the issues again. Well, enough to make it through one day, anyway. That’s all I can ask anymore. Ugh. I need understanding ears. They may not exist. There was a chance some years ago, but like everything else that feels good, it went away. Now everything feels bad. Sunday, the fourth of June. What about yesterday? Did she understand? Eh... She wasn’t there. I did the bare minimum and relaxed. I will say that from some angles, Valentina does display pretty big fucking eyes, but the underlying issues I’ve had with the way she speaks always ruins any appreciation before it goes too far. Something is wrong there, I believe. Anyway, not much went on yesterday and I don’t care. She wasn’t there, the understanding flew away again, and there were moments of becoming so disillusioned with everything that I stood still not knowing which way to turn. Not a really good day. The morning went south (like almost every day) and I couldn’t pull myself out of the din during the afternoon or evening. I have to remedy the situation today or I’ll lose my shit again. 0706. I have to break out the laptop today for editing an image that is to be included in a new shirt design. I have different software on this machine which is new and quite different, so I have to use the older program if I want to finish the detailed work in a reasonable amount of time. Once I am satisfied with the image, I’ll probably integrate the design and have the shirts printed. I also have laundry, dry cleaning and the usual Sunday business that will kick off in roughly two hours. I haven’t seen her lately, nor have I seen much of anything else, and I believe the lack of visions has caused similar distress to when I see too much. Does that make sense? The whole thing is similar, yet different. I miss her, and I miss dreaming that she can make everything okay. The only other dream girl who removed the difficulty from my life was Jamie, and that was merely a one time thing. Does she understand? Will today be the day when everything changes? I need to see her, but at the same time, I already know that no good will be served if she enters my eyes. I’ll just fall all over myself with goo goo ga ga again and come out the other side worse off than I am right now. A dream early this morning had me all excited that good things were coming to my life. I had found an item which belonged to either a theme park or film studio which they had been seeking for a long time. It was a proprietary model of a future project that had disappeared. How did I find it? I have no idea, but I brought it to the right people because they appreciated the effort and honestly enough to offer me a job within their secret studio. I was so excited that I could barely think straight. Some of my problems were disappearing due to seeing a future for myself. When I awakened, my brain descended into the same fucking soup and I lost all those good feelings. Nothing good like that is going to happen in my life. Nothing. I already know. The dreams only exacerbate everything that troubles me these days. I’ll just have to forget about it, rather like trying to be happy at all. That thing I mentioned on a few occasions has been coming to mind more and more often lately. The other one from last year, too. One is a problem and the other is quite the opposite... It is a wondrous, dreamy situation over which I have little control (it is gone now, anyway) and something which requires help in order for me to understand. That is just not going to happen, unfortunately, and the biggest downside to such a situation is that it will never come to pass again. Another facet of life gone for good. Erase one of the marks next to that list of reasons why I am still breathing. Believe it or not, the issue which arose last year is likely something that can be dealt with fairly easily. There is no need for understanding with regard to that one, either, but something else is necessary; also completely gone, most likely forever. This is probably the largest clambake imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am right now. Coffee. Does she understand? Can she, ever? Is anything out there? So lost... I think today will be good for ridding myself of a few items. Things become lost or otherwise buried within spaces that I don’t explore very often, and lately I’ve been feeling that organization will somehow help me to relax and think. I don’t know why, but the process has worked in the past. I don’t really have other avenues right now. Today should be full of work. I need to keep busy and try to push away my feelings again. No options; no hope; little of anything else. I don’t know what to fuckin’ write here anymore. The same shit keeps coming to my fingers and then the ideas go nowhere. Housework? Projects? None of that shit matters. The deeper feelings and problems continue to plague me, yet no matter how driven I become, the words end up masked to the point of conveying almost nothing. This is not good. I still sit here on and off every day because I have no other way of approaching my life anymore. This will continue until I find a different path or set of rails. The dream from early this morning really screwed me. I can’t have such wonder and hope wash over me only to watch them both disappear in an instant. Not good. In some ways, this latest blissful yet fictional situation rivals the one born of the damaging dreams. I don’t seem to have nightmares anymore. Whenever I am visited by something while sleeping, I eventually awaken to reality and am reminded that my life is going nowhere good. Splendid. Clambake. Fucked. Last cup of coffee. I’ll tend to my housework soon. The time is only 0830 and I am already feeling antsy. I also feel like a complete failure. No direction. 1008. Thankfully, I found some inner part of me that needed to get going. So, most of my daily routine is now finished, the second load of laundry is drying, and I straightened the three main living areas. I also poured a nice, big glass of depressant for reasons of good form. I am trying to suppress the damage from earlier. I lived through a mass of discontent, dissatisfaction and fear, and was eventually driven to malfunction and disaster. Yep... Again with the fucking disaster. The booze might help me come to terms with such a fucked up situation. I don’t know what to do anymore. This is not good. I am on my way down. There is a door below me, waiting. I don’t understand why the door does not seem to be attached to anything. I can see around the top and both sides, the ground below my feet notwithstanding. If I can see to the other side, why would I go through it? Will something change? This is not some King novel, either. It is my own mystery, and one I feel compelled to solve. This situation is rather like the way I perceive time on the clock and the manner in which a circular clock resembles a path for the hands. Moreover, the calendar has its own path, one of squares typically laid out from left to right. I see it and think of hopscotch or some other journey leading from one place to another involving a row of individual spaces. Regarding the months and seasons, I often see an enormous circle – much like the clock – floating in space. The current month is June, and picturing the rest of the year feels like a clockwise journey around to the opposite side, December. The days are squares, the months being made up of rows of the same. The clock is a circle. The calendar in my head is a huge circle. My life is often described as a circle, and then equated to rails going nowhere aside from leading to where I have already been. All of this pushes me to feel confusion regarding a door. And don’t give me a blast of shit because of the title being pushed off for hundreds of lines before I’ve addressed it. Shut up. I am not a mentally healthy person, nor is any of this easy. 0817 on Monday morning. Is she on the other side of the door? Waiting? Maybe waiting for me? I have lots of questions. I can see over there and nothing is apparent. I don’t even see the rails. I’ve been going in circles for a very long time, so the door could be a way to switch paths, perhaps. I have the little circle and the bigger one representing the way of the world through the calendar year. Two circles. Up to this point in time I have never seen a door. There were bags, though. Remember? Bags of shit so heavy that there was no forgetting the past. Bags. Well, now there is a door. I don’t know if I want to learn what it represents or not. This could be the beginning of an even worse part of life. It could also mean my end. The only glimmer I see right now is the possibility of her on the other side waiting to tell me everything will be ok. Not likely, though. That is not fucking likely. Many times I’ve stated that there is to be no good for me in this life, and the door does not negate such a fact. I wish she was there. I really do. I fucking need something. Last of the coffee. Gangsters again, for whatever reason. Familiarity, perhaps. I don’t know what else to do, but I will say that I can’t have any media playing over there which requires my full attention while typing. As it is now, I pause the stream quite often. Whatever. This is the first day in over two weeks which I have all to myself. The quiet time may help me understand the door. I can only hope. It is very strange, much like the cryptic dreams I had which frightened me to death. Maybe the other side of the door is another dimension? What does that mean? Or a different time? The past? I’ve been through those moments on the train, such as being forced to face something from years ago which haunts me every day, or seeing past scenes play out in excruciating detail. The door could also be nothing more than wishful thinking that my world can be changed in some way. Improved? I don’t know. I don’t want to approach the fucking thing. Part of me is recalling that hallway which was supposed to be some lesson. Remember the story? The gunman was shooting at me and I had very little time to understand the Goddamned portraits hanging along each wall. Ugh. I don’t need any more of that type of thing. I am going to try to understand this situation while I work around the house today. Plenty of time. Maybe the door leads to hell. Maybe it leads to her. Eh... Not likely. 1104. I finished the daily routine, and during my sweeping I noticed police cars in the court nearby. Oh, boy. My neighbor called me yesterday afternoon and said he saw police over there in force, as in two cities’ worth of patrols with guns drawn. Yikes. Supporting that, when the officers walked back to their cars this morning, one was carrying a riot gun. I don’t know what’s been happening over there, but I will say that I hope everyone is alright. This neighborhood is typically very quiet except for the fourth of July. Heh. Anyway, my regular stuff is out of the way. I’ve been considering the door, too. I still don’t know what to think, but regardless of my perception, it is there before me. Tuesday. Doors in my sleep. The time is only 0654 and I am already anticipating having the early business out of the way so I can sit here and think. Something has to happen – and soon – if I am to remain alright. There was a massive issue yesterday in which I had to avoid staring at someone. Huge problem. I glanced because of the amazing nature of the sight, but then turned and pulled focus elsewhere for reasons of good form. I can’t describe the problem here, but I will say that her pants were almost shiny black and appeared to be about as thin as possible without falling apart. The image stuck with me throughout the evening and into this morning, too. I remained in good form yesterday despite the incredibly strong pull at my senses and the deep need to grab her and run away. I do not know her, either, so remaining at a distance was a little easier than if we had been involved in polite conversation or the like. I stayed away. Those few seconds allowed me to see an uncompromising form, meaning I’ll be thinking about her for a while. The center seam alone was enough to send me into the ground at breakneck speed. But... I can’t talk about it. Break. Neck. I wish the other side of the door was the inside of her pants. Fuck it... Shoot me. I don’t fucking care anymore. I need her. More importantly, I need her to understand. Does she? Can she? Eh... 0805. The early business is out of the way and I got a head start on my routine. The coffee has been flowing like a two-bit whore this morning. I can’t get the image of her shape out of my fucking head, damn it. I need to stop dreaming of her and move along like a real grown-up type of person. This situation sucks out loud and right down to the ground. She is competing with the door and I really don’t need that this morning. Ugh. What could be on the other side? The hallway again? I don’t want to be forced into merging this topic with the fiction I wrote a few years ago. That will undoubtedly lead to visions of Jaime the machine and her ever-changing eye color. I loved her. Well... Love her. Maybe she is waiting for me on the other side? I am afraid. At least Jaime never pulled a knife on me. Remember that? Another unfinished parable. I wish I hadn’t seen her yesterday. The sight has created a host of problems inside me ranging from the damaging dreams, on to the race girl and the festival last fall, and then straight to the way my feelings have changed in the past year. Over and over I see her walking and that fucking seam speaking to me like God himself. The image is so powerful right now that it has me questioning my entire life. ‘It’s a livin.’ ‘IT'S A WASTE OF LIFE.’ I am feeding the depression as I ponder the door situation. Maybe there is some kind of decision I need to make, or perhaps have already made which has placed me here in front of this gateway. I can’t be certain. The other side of the doorway could be as simple as making a change in the way I am living life. Something is there, no doubt. I can feel the power of the door, too. I can feel it as strongly as I feel desire for all those impossible parts of life. Knowing what is on the other side is a dire need at this point. I’ve been staring for days. The only change since yesterday at this time is a group of silhouettes off to my left that seem to have grown out of the water. The sand below immediately allowed me to localize the door as being next to a large body of water such as the ocean. I can smell the water, too. The gray silhouettes are out there at an undetermined distance and causing me to swing my head back and forth as if I’ve been attending a tennis match. I am trying to focus on the door and surrounding areas, yet those figures off to the left have begun to command a good portion of my attention. I don’t know whether to be scared or curious. And now I am feeling as if I’m being watched from beyond my peripheral vision. Far left; past the silhouettes. Turning... And there is another fucking door. The wind began to pick up yesterday morning and continues to gust even now. I watched the forecast and there was no mention of such gales. Unbelievable. I was awakened during the wee hours by our power line support cable repeatedly contacting the roof, which happens to be just above the master bedroom. I feel rested despite the noise, though. Not bad. Looking out the window right now, I see that the wind is still strong. Hopefully it doesn’t strengthen to the point of knocking out the power. I have batteries charging just in case. The only concern I ever have with regard to losing power is media, and I always have the option of using my phone coupled with the wireless MDRs. Both can charge off the power tool batteries, as well. I have to maintain my comfort regardless of the electricity situation. Without the familiarity of the media playing, my days would be completely fucked up. I am wholly dependent upon video programming. Whatever that makes me, I don’t care. My life has been pared down to very few operations of late. I need what I need and that is that. Nothing will change unless she darkens my doorstep with the understanding of which I have dreamed for decades. The mail just arrived. Nice. 1048. The necessities of my daily routine are finished. I need time to think. I just saw one of the two over whom I’ve been gushing. Her shorts were the very definition of such an article of clothing... Very ‘short’. Jesus. The only line was her sweatshirt which covered the lower end of the shorts and made it appear that she had nothing underneath the baggy top garment. God damn shit fuck, anyway. I have never wanted her so badly. Bouncing breasts. I am a basket case of the highest order right now. Rarely have I wished to see inside a woman’s clothing so fucking much. I need to see everything. I need to see her fucking lines and often feel that I will die without knowing. Fucking hell... This is so ridiculous that even I can’t believe it. I guess I’ll die anyway, but it would be nice to see everything before I am in a grave. Ah... My booze order is ready early. Maybe I’ll drive over there and pick it up today. The time consumption and distraction could be helpful right now. Life is moving along outside my window and I feel like no part of it whatsoever. I’ll get out there and drive. Wednesday, 0630. Coffee. Jamie is over there in all her fourth season glory. I love her. Someone else, too. And the other one. Never mind. There is too much shit in my head. I noticed the right rear tire on my car was low the other day. I topped it with the portable inflator and then took off for the wine store. Halfway home again and the warning light came on. Shit. I pulled into a parking lot less than a half mile from here to check, and sure enough it was back down to less than eight pounds. The inflator was ineffective, so I limped the car home. Now I have to pull the wheel and install the stupid space-saver so I can drive to the tire shop. Ugh. Whatever. At least I have the impact gun to make the process go a little faster. Once my morning moves along a bit further, I’ll take care of the car and head over the hill via surface streets to avoid the highway. I need my car in good shape because it represents the ability to take off whenever necessary for my peace of mind. I’ll work on the early business in a little while. The door is causing me to feel apprehension regarding everything. Even my daily routine is at risk right now because just below the surface of each simple thought is the idea that I am going to either destroy myself or be destroyed, and whatever is on the other side of that door represents the end of me. One way or another, I am feeling as if the end is near. Yesterday, each activity required tremendous effort, and I am speaking of anything that had been very simple or straightforward at one time. This downhill slide began some time ago and continues unimpeded regardless of my feelings or daily activities. I may be standing on level ground right now, but believe me... Enough grade is present to force me into realizing that my life is nearing its end. I can’t do anything without pausing out of concern, and that makes each new day a little more difficult than the last. I’d like to think that heading through the doorway could save me, but I am too smart for such delusions. I already know being saved through understanding is impossible. The salt air is not helping my concentration, either. The water is to the left, and way off in the opposite direction is some greenery. Everywhere else is sand and driftwood. 0747. The early business has been completed and I have hours to myself for whatever seems best. Conversely, the hours could leave me worse off than I am right now. There is no way to tell this early in the day. At some point I’ll have to pull the wheel off the car and head over to the shop. A bit later, I guess. The entire operation requires that I feel ambitious. Right now I have no idea whether or not I’ll feel like leaving the house. Or, I may not feel like doing anything at all. Time will tell. Those doors in front and behind are making me nervous. I hope there isn’t a clock ticking somewhere. This situation is starting to remind me of being on the train with the adorable little Julie. We blew it to smithereens, too. I don’t have explosives right now, either. I don’t possess much of anything, really. Ugh. I need to know the reason or reasons why these doors appeared and what may lie beyond each. I’m nervous, just like when I first entered that crazy, backward hotel a few years ago. The sand below my feet is warm, as is the sun above. Light cloud cover is present. As I said before, this is not some King novel, so I probably don’t need to worry about lobster creatures or anything else. This place seems deserted. Quiet, too. Maybe I should finish off the coffee and care for the car before continuing to worry about the fucking doors. One thing at a time, just like most weekdays. Stop. 1027 is what I see on the clock. The daily routine has been finished and the second wave of dishes is drip-drying to save water. I don’t think I’ll be going to the tire store because I need to remain home. After a little break, I’m going to return to the garage and straighten everything while seeking items to toss in the trash. Most of the storage out there has been overlooked and sitting idle for several years, meaning I can look around and create space. The bikes are idle, too. I don’t feel like furthering either project right now. The doors and my future are taking priority. I will say that the quiet time and space to think are fucking amazing today. I don’t always feel as such, but sometimes I can’t help but appreciate being home nearly all of the time. I feel like the doorways are waiting, as if there is a limit to how long I can delay entering one of them. And I will admit that a part of me has been wishing to return to the wasteland of the negative material plane in the off chance that I will connect with Jaime again. Yep, the battery-powered machine goddess with eyes that change color and a knack for comforting me no matter how dire circumstances may become. I love that woman, real or not, and if you consider my penchant for conjuring impossible women with the power to save my life, such a fact is far from surprising. All those trips up and down the highway a few years ago yielded what seemed an endless search for something wonderful – much like the dream of Jaime – yet took a heavy toll on my mind. Now I am far worse off and further out of balance, believe it or not. I just switched off the video media in favor of the music of life. The compositions bring me back to the dark days of ten and eleven, as well as my time with the Raven and so many desperate feelings and dangerous situations that I fail to recall everything. When I hear certain tracks, my head quickly reverts to one of two moods: The first is suicide; the second being the forest mindset. Either is fine with me right now because I am having an increasingly difficult time caring about what may ensue if I were to disappear. In the case of suicide, I probably would not know, anyway, so the forest seems more appealing and far more demonstrative. The year of sixteen comes to mind, as well. I was pretty close to the final solution back then. Seventeen was not much better, either. Looking back and forth between one door and the other has been pressing me to consider that the two disparate mindsets mentioned above could be the respective results of stepping through one of them. I don’t know what to do, and such a thought is nowhere near surprising at this point in time. Is this situation a choice to live or die? One door for each? They appear to be exactly the same. And... If they truly lead in other directions, why can’t I see what is on the other side? Perhaps I watch too much science fiction. And now a voice... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ God damn fuck shit anyway. I don’t need Julia right now... Or do I? She was always so cryptic. God damn is this whiskey ever delicious. I have been confronted with doors in the past, both figurative and literal. The last literal door was a few years ago and I burned it to ash with my damaging personality and evil methods, and soon after, the ash was disregarded through even more damaging practices. Nothing can be done about that one, unfortunately, but at least there was a lesson involved which I haven’t forgotten. Some damage cannot be undone due to a combination of age and apathy. I am in a very destructive mood right now. I’ll have to rein in this shit, and soon, lest I lose my already precarious place in the world. I see 1114 on the clock but I could swear I’ve lived a thousand hours since rising from bed this morning. 0642 on Thursday morning with sunshine and coffee. I am planning to spend as much time as possible in front of this machine today. At some point I’ll be heading over the hill to have the tire repaired, but other than that bit of business and my usual stuff, I really don’t feel up to working too much. Something caught me upside the head last night and I can’t seem to shake the negative feelings. And I mean negative. I actually learned a very uncomfortable lesson through a phrase and was immediately taken aback. During the split-second it took for me to regain the facade, I realized there has been a very wrong situation in place for many years, and even after suspecting such feelings, I did not consider the sheer depth of everything until hearing such words. Now I don’t know what to think, but one certainty is that I have stepped back a touch in order to keep my eye on things a little more closely than I have in the past. Prior to what took place last night, the day had been quite productive. One bike was completed and is out of the garage and the other is back on the lift and ready for me to continue the project. I also straightened the garage somewhat and tossed a pile of crap into the trash. By the end of business hours, the day seemed pretty positive. Little did I know that a very specific type of information was going to hit me very hard and raise questions like never before. Now the die has been cast. Cooling. I have to consider the fact that the doors are here because of the way I’ve been treated in the past, or at least the reverse. This cannot be a coincidence. Death? Oh, and to add insult to injury, early this morning was a flash-dream of her running nearby in a tank top. I would say two seconds of visions before I awakened. Everything is piling atop everything else inside my brain. Almost time for the morning business. Done. Now I have the day to myself, good or bad as such a prospect may be. The doors are making me nervous. There is so much information inside me that I cannot convey here (or to another person, for sure) that I am hoping one of those doorways leads to the understanding and concern for which I’ve been searching for years. I need to speak with another person. I really do. There is so much fear inherent in the idea of actually letting go of some of this information that I wouldn’t be able to simply relax and just work through the process. Maybe one door leads to understanding and the other to doom. I don’t know. They are there, however... Staring back at me. Can I walk away and avoid both? I need help. Malfunction. I don’t know if I am going to the tire store today or not. I feel that remaining home might be best, but then again, I don’t like the idea that I can’t drive far. That feels like a restriction, something with which I have never dealt pleasantly. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my dear. Ashamed.’ ‘Damn it.’ ‘Relax. Think about the doors.’ Great. Just what I need right now... Julia’s returning to confuse the hell out of me. Maybe my feelings of late incited the doors’ appearance, or perhaps something in my mind finally snapped and conjured that beautiful woman a third time. I can hear her but not see. All I see is the seashore and two doorways. At least there are no rails right now. The last time I rode the rails was very painful and dredged up all sorts of images from both the near and far past. I really don’t want to live through that shit again. At some point I will have to make the decision to either walk through one of them or walk away. At this very moment, I have no idea what may be best for me. The time is now 0913 and my head continues to lean toward having the tire repaired and reinstalled. I don’t like feeling as if I am stuck here, although getting the hell out for a little while may help alleviate the morning difficulties and subsequent malfunction. I am the only person who can darken the two nearby doorsteps. 1053 and nothing around the house has been touched because I ventured to the tire store. Now I have to wait, possibly another couple of hours. I strolled down the Real to get some cigarettes because I didn't realize I'd be stuck here. Damn. On the upside, the repair will be finished and I don't have anything else pressing right now. The routine can wait. I need my car in good working order. The doors followed along. So did her voice. Sitting here really slams home the reality of my mass of free time these days. Even if I'm stuck all the way to 1330 (the outside estimate), it doesn't impact my day at all. The only difference is my work time becomes shifted to after lunch. I could sit here all fucking day and it wouldn't matter. Waiting in a situation like this is very unusual and forces me to look at the clock in a different light. The time is now 1110. I keep hearing her voice, yet the woman is nowhere to be found. The words are echoing, just like during that strange rail trip into a netherworld. Two, actually. I hope nothing of the like is in my future. Twice was plenty. I have to pause now. Home again. 1449. My routine is finished after less than half an hour of work. Not bad. I also had a light snack so as to avoid messing up my appetite for dinner later. I was gone for more than four hours – time well-spent because of the importance of my car, naturally – and now that I am home I realize everything swirled inside me while out. Everything. When I took a walk south to the little market for cigarettes, a moment of pause took me for a few seconds. There was a girl tending to a small child in the back seat of a parallel parked car, and her lines were in full view for me as I passed. Yep, no matter what may be taking place in my sordid life, there will always be a vision to trip me up. I continued, of course, and eventually returned to the shop. I thought of the damaging dreams, the doors, Julia, all the shit from last year, and tying it all together was a pair of past experiences. You guessed it... The trains. And then? Not long before the work was completed, I ventured outside for a smoke and spied a train crossing a nearby street, all speedy and powerful. That was the train the Raven and I rode at the beginning of one of the worst days of my entire life. The memory was like the cherry perched atop a vast sundae of damage and regret. I am having a difficult time writing. Friday. I have to draw another line. No, not THAT type of line. More like a restriction. I discovered a problem last night, yet sitting here twelve hours later I still don’t know how it happened. It’s not a big deal, though, and only requires a small change in my behavior. Today is going to be ideal for finding insight because after all that shit yesterday, I will actually have this day to myself. I need not go anywhere. My head has to consider the impact of the doors and what they represent, plus I need to learn the reason why Julia seems upset with me. ‘Ashamed.’ Ok, so... I am sometimes ashamed due to aspects of the way my mind operates. But that is not to say that I feel badly toward myself all the time. She was very pointed with those words. Last year’s alteration to the way I think carries to this very second. There is no way she could know about all those dreams, though, is there? I don’t know. I have to figure this shit out. Oh, and the line. Yeah. Another fucking line. Great. The house must remain quiet today if I am to understand whatever kind of decision this seems to be. Well, I did mention simply walking away, too. I don’t know. Nothing seems to be changing; not the landscape, position of the sun in the sky, nothing, so perhaps I have all the time in the world to learn what I can. Again, I just don’t know. Her voice is something with which I’ve been familiar for years. She posed questions and offered little observations here and there with some sort of half-assed methodology, effectively leaving me to figure shit out mostly on my own. I needed her help sometimes, and so she helped. But the questions? I really don’t want to hear them these days. Her words are one thing, but the doorways (doors?) are entirely different. I already know she will not help me work out why they have appeared, so maybe I’ll just ignore her offhand comments and occasional rhetoric. Whatever else needs to be done today, I plan to spend a lot of time considering my current situation and will not allow myself to be pushed or pulled in any direction. I should have some hours alone prior to the evening. 1131. The doors (doorways?) are looming large here on the beach. I can feel them. All my work in the house is finished, but the inside of my head is still processing everything. That includes last night. What I did not remember is some discussion of family, something I do not generally enjoy because of the past. Well, I spilled the beans and now don’t know what to think. One possibility is that the doors may be related to dealing with the past, much like the trips I was forced to take on the beautiful trains. Remember the passenger cars? Those issues were never solved, so perhaps Julia has placed more puzzles in front of me in order to force my hand once again. I can’t be certain unless I take action, and the fear has been holding me back for days. Another idea is that her voice never stopped resonating and I simply blocked it. At least she loves me and would never cause me harm. Pain and discomfort, heartache, but not harm. Her motives were always driven by care. At some point I am going to have to choose. The way I feel today – despite accomplishing my housework while being rather weak – is leading me to need relaxation and quiet rather than some otherworldly adventure. Maybe I should put some space between myself and the doors for a while. Maybe. I honestly don’t know what to do, but physical comfort is at the top of my list today. The doorways (doors?) can loom all they want. Saturday morning. 0644. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday. I believe the other night was part of the problem as I recall one topic from the many conversations... Children. Somehow, I fell off the wagon of information and spilled a few key terms from the past, thus leaving myself in the same situation as if I had wished to confide in someone. I don’t believe there will be any trouble, though, because the late hour and condition of people mean much of what was said is already forgotten. One further point of this information is that each time I worry about what I’ve remembered, the emotional stability that has been so precariously balanced for the last two decades diminishes a bit more. Only so much more of such loss and I will be gone. To say that I am paranoid doesn’t even scratch the surface. Too many years of being disregarded, not taken seriously, and insulted have combined and left me no way out of feeling so frightened all the time, especially when something critical slips out. I regret it. Fear leads to anger, as many a book will tell you, when there can be no recourse. Hence? Me. Hopefully, the apprehension still boiling underneath the surface is for naught. I need to take care of the early business soon. Afterward, back to this machine. ‘Ashamed.’ Thanks, babe. I really needed to hear that crap. Leave me alone, please, and allow me time to figure this shit to its end. At some point I will probably simply enter one opening and learn of where it may lead. Which? I don’t have a clue because they are completely identical. What kind of decision could these doors represent? Or do they even require a decision? Maybe if I walk into one I will emerge from the other. No... That is too much ‘science fiction’ to be related to these situations. The train cars, for example, did not involve hocus pocus. They were representative of difficulties which have truncated my life. This could be the same. One over there and the other over there. Remember that shit? The situation on this beach is enough to render me scared and I don’t know which way to turn. Julia is not helping. I will say that curiosity may eventually cause me to toss caution to the wind and simply pick one. Eventually, anyway. Right now I like the quiet and need more of it in order to relax enough for further analysis. Julia forced me to face the most difficult part of my life and I ended up destroying it. But... Did I? Did anything really happen? That situation was created by her, meaning the truth is that none of it existed outside my head. And the second occasion... Fuck, she had me facing all sorts of shit that I really wanted to suppress (or make altogether disappear). I know in my heart of hearts that Julia is here to help, but her methods scare the hell out of me. Bottom line, that is the main reason I hesitate right now. I am afraid because I know there is going to be trouble whichever way I decide to go. Two doors... One leads to damage and the other to difficulty. Or maybe the other way around. Get it? I am afraid. At some point, I know she will force me to pick an opening and begin to explore. The first passenger car placed me toe to toe with the man who was that boy, yet the entire scene was focused upon one of two shit situations. I really don’t want to get into the other. ‘Make a decision.’ God damn shit fuck, anyway. Why does she have to do that? Her words are bringing me all the way back to the locomotive ride and the power I felt at the controls. That power was stripped away at hearing her first question. Ugh. 0906. Curious... I was watching a scene between Christopher and JT as they worked in the gym. I remember my friend Mel way back during high school and his desire to be a competing weightlifter. He instructed me from time to time on proper techniques and such, one of which was hand positioning while pressing on the bench. He never wrapped his thumbs around the bar because doing so transferred some of the energy off the palm and cause hands to bend slightly. Moreover, without the thumbs grasping the bar, one is forced to balance even more than the alternative, thus yielding better results overall. Cut to a short time later in life – just after high school, in fact – while I attended motor transport school in the Marine Corps. The same lesson (or very similar, at least) applied to the thumbs on the steering wheel. No part of the hands or arms was supposed to enter the inner ‘circle’ because a violent alteration at the front wheels could break the driver’s thumb(s). I never unlearned those lessons and still drive with my thumbs on the outside of the steering wheel to this very day. The weightlifting discussion was merely the beginning, whereas the military seldom allows forgetting lessons and orders no matter a person’s age. My hand positioning while driving is now ingrained; an instinct. Very interesting. Anyway... 0915. One door or the other? I don’t know. I am afraid. 'Do you know what you have to do?' Shut up. I have to get away from this crap for a while because all of the deep thinking is beginning to bother my insides. The process of learning can be very uncomfortable, for sure, and dealing with what Julia has thrown at me in the past was less than fun to say the least. Sooner or later I will pick one door or the other and then walk. I know it. I just don’t want to do it right now. The time is now 1050 and the daily routine has been finished along with two loads of laundry. I’ve been contemplating a reorganization of the socket drawer in my toolbox, but right now I need to relax for a little while before tackling anything else. I’d also like to trim one of the rose bushes in the backyard prior to sending the garbage carts to the curb tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get to that crap at some point. I have not been able to get the doors out of my head, nor can I cease Julia’s words. None of this is surprising. Holy Jesus fucking hell in a black dress is Jamie ever beautiful. While working in the garage (laundry), the fifth show kept me company and I had to deal with all manner of carnal thoughts regarding Jolene and her incredible form, some of which is similar to Julia’s shape. But? Lo and behold... Once I saw Jamie and her huge eyes, all of that melted away like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Jamie is the highest echelon of my loving feelings. There is simply no getting around that one anymore. I love her so much that it hurts. Marvelous. Fiction over reality, every fucking time. Reality cannot compare. I wish I had a coin or some other device to make the choice for me. An arbitrary decision is often helpful when one becomes undecided. Maybe. I don’t know. I keep thinking of the King novel involving similar passages, yet on that beach there were threatening creatures in every direction. I am alone here. Well, alone aside from Julia’s commanding voice. I don’t want to walk through one of the doors and end up in the desert again. Remember? Those little scorpions with headphones? There were entirely too many mysteries in that place, and even more in the hotel. My upbringing and subsequent years encapsulated within the gaming culture have really taken their toll. Sunday morning, later than I would prefer, and I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start. Yesterday was one of the most upsetting, discouraging days in memory. I should honestly describe all that took place in a separate entry, although whomever may or may not be following this content is not important to me, so there it is. I don’t care. And understand that there are a few key details which must remain absent, lest I allow my feelings to create more troubling situations in my life that I am capable of handling. Just trust me... Much of what I could say is very bad. Anyway, this morning I had to run over the hill to pick up some prescriptions, and due to being there so early, I ended up having to kill twenty minutes or so. I took a cruise up and down the Real and reminisced about old restaurants, road trips and both combined. That’s one of those aspects of travel that I have always loved... Finding new and interesting places to dine. I made it back here to finish the coffee and ponder the ways of the world. The doors are going to have to take a pause for a little while. I have a head full of breasts and restaurants. I was in a position to gaze nearly to my heart’s content yesterday, and did just that. Now I have to deal with the memory. Today is garbage day, plus the usual crap. None of it will take very long, though, because once again we skipped dinner. I won’t be doing that again for a very long time. Shit went sideways inside my head last night, meaning I need to think about everything today and relax. Nothing terrible transpired, of course, but some of the banter has me considering remaining quieter than I have been in the past. The housework today will help, as will my typical maximization of the trash carts. I will need to get a few things done soon; perhaps when I am finished with my coffee. The doors will return at some point if I can stop picturing her chest moving around as if it had its own life. Jesus fucking Christ, anyway. Wow, did I ever see a ton. WAY too much. 1030. Jamie is on the screen and right now she doesn’t matter as much as most days because of yesterday. I can’t really talk about it. Not good. I have emotions swirling inside that I will have to control at some point or I’ll be completely useless today. I guess all I can do is try. I don’t like feeling this way, either. It happens more and more often lately and has me worried for the future. Monday. I still see her standing nearby with a nonexistent midsection below two large globes that I desperately needed to intimately know. Right there... All slenderness apparent. God damn it anyway. My feelings have to be locked up tight. No one can know because they will not understand. Yesterday I mentioned that I don’t like feeling as if I can’t accomplish anything. Such a mood is the result of both physical problems and the realization that I no longer have the power or ability to affect change in my life. Throw in a bit of knowledge that everything I need in the world is gone, and you can see how the combination can put me on my ass for hours. This morning I do not share that same mood because a much more difficult realization has been creeping into my existence more and more as the days pass, and that is the idea that my life is already over. Whatever I’ve accomplished and/or enjoyed in the past is gone now, never to return. Both I and the world at large are simply too different. Each day that goes by brings me further from reality and real people and closer to dreaming of impossible situations; seemingly the only way for me to find the comfort and understanding that I need in order to survive. Much of the time I feel paralyzed because I know in advance that no matter what I can do, after the fact I’ll end up exactly the same (if not worse). There cannot be improvement any longer. This is the ‘life that cried wolf’, as it were. It is over and has been for quite some time. I doubt anything significant or even slightly noteworthy will take place today. Just the usual. I have to return to concentrating upon the two doors. 0809. The early business is out of the way and I have a head start on the routine for posterity. Julia’s voice, although lovely, has not left my head for days. ‘Ashamed’. Yeah, I guess. I don’t like to use those words to describe myself because I already feel bad enough about this current situation. Do I know what I have to do? Not a fucking clue. I thought I took care of that question on the first occasion, though the truth is I did what I did out of necessity and my own desire to destroy the problem. That may not have been Julia’s intention. The second time? I don’t know that one, either. We blew up the hotel. I killed a dragon. I spoke with the handsome bartender. I was chased. There were entirely too many facets to that shit to recall what may have been the main point. The second passenger car was there, as well, so perhaps her wish was for me to face myself through those problems identified by each woman with whom I spoke. They were physical representations of issues with which I’ve dealt for decades. Moreover, dealing with them was difficult and forced me to see what others go through trying to deal with me. I hated every second of that fucking place and still don’t know if Julia’s intention was for me to dissect the way I life my life and the way it relates to those around me. I still don’t fucking know. This process is going to take some time, I guess. Oh, God... There she is again. Hold me, Jamie. Please hold me. Nope. Not real... Like everything else I need. The time is now 0854. I’ll get to the rest of my routine when the coffee is gone. I wish there was a pair of ears available right now. My head is all wrapped around what I’ve seen, and the daydreaming is driving me insane. No one is listening, nor will anyone darken my doorstep. I sure could use a companion if I am going to venture through one of the doorways. Fuck. Alone, as always. Julia would not be my first choice, though. Maybe Julie or Jaime. This is one of those mornings. I can’t talk about it. Which way? Left or right? Or do I just walk away and take a stroll down the beach? I don’t know what to do here. This shit has me worried that either direction may land me in a heap of trouble again. The gunman chased me all over the fucking place and I really don’t need anything like that right now. I have enough difficulty just sitting here trying to think. There you go... Wanna talk about mixing things up a bit? I am sitting at my computer but also standing on a beach. Are the doors in my head? Julia is in there, for sure. She won’t leave. And speaking of that slender beauty... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Shit. Leave me alone, please. I have to do something with this situation or I fear I’ll be wandering out here for the rest of my life. That does not sound appealing. Fear has prevented me from taking even small chances in order to attempt to gain something wonderful and very rewarding, and right now fear is keeping me away from the doorways. Could there be anything good inside? Or... On the other side? Is there an ‘other’ side? Not knowing what might await my presence is making me crazy. Julia is not helping, either. She’s obviously not happy with the way I’ve been living these last few years, and I honestly cannot disagree. I don’t need her criticizing me, either, but there has never been much choice in the matter because she seems to know everything. She knows me, for sure. One or the other? Will my choice matter? I have too many fucking questions right now. 0914. I could end up in the hotel or on a train. Maybe a huge locomotive like last time, all six-thousand horses apparent. At least I felt a measure of power at those controls. Sitting in this chair – as well as standing on the beach under a sun that has not moved at all – I feel completely powerless in life. I have to try embracing the idea that the two journeys awaiting my presence could actually be positive learning experiences rather than only doom. I guess fearing everything just pushes me toward the possibility of doom rather than something good. The last thing I want right now is to be forced into facing the past again. If I were to walk through one or the other and end up in a fucking passenger car, my head would have one hell of a time dealing with it. The first occasion was very slow to develop, whereas the doors could mean an instant change. I don’t know if I can handle anything of the sort these days. I am so fragile that it’s not even a little funny. I am weak. One or the other? ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Shut up, damn it.’ ‘I am waiting for you.’ Finally! At least I now know that Julia is somewhere out there and I will probably see her again. This may be the push I need to make a decision. Maybe. I am still scared to death, though. I really am. Not only have I just lived through years of feeling powerless, fearful and ineffective in life, but each day shows me that my ability to lift myself out of the depression and find a positive direction has been greatly diminished. When I succeed, it is minor as compared to who I was years ago. I could walk through one of the doors and see Julia standing there, meaning I would immediately fall into her arms like last time (if she wants me at all). That could help for a time. I don’t fucking know. Shit. I don’t like this situation very much. Some mysteries are exciting and compelling; this one is scaring the hell out of me. On the chair and on the beach. The sun is unmoving. I can already tell this world is not right somehow, much like the fucking hotel. At least there are no scorpions or snow this time. And? I wonder what happens if I just remain here and avoid both doorways. Will I be here forever? Part of me? No answers. Only questions. 1025. I am apprehensive, yet cannot avoid dreaming that perhaps Jaime is in there somewhere. I could use her loving manner right about now (like almost every fucking day). Could she be waiting to help guide me through more shit? Another adventure that nearly takes my life? I mean... Jesus. How many times did I die last time? How many times did Julie die? Jaime is a machine. No worries there. God damn do I need her at this moment. Bad. I am in horrible shape overall, meaning anything positive – like caring pairs of ears and arms – could push me to enter a doorway. I just don’t know, though. I don’t fucking know if I will be worse off for the decision. I’ve been fighting to suppress my feelings all morning, and the notion of one or more of those women being just beyond the openings is not helping. None of it is or was real. Is this real? Am I standing here dreaming of some loving, caring understanding while I simultaneously sit at my fucking table almost completely bereft of hope? My mind is stretching, but the directions may not necessarily be positive. I’ve done little to help myself in recent years. Something has to happen or I’ll end up staring at two options forever. I must decide and go, period. My daily routine is finished save for the dishes drip-drying. I have to do a load of dry cleaning and some spots on the wood floor need attention. Other than those items, the rest of the day is pretty much going to operate according to my mood or whims. Daydreaming about that girl since Saturday is hurting me deeply; right there but so far out of reach. Impossible, really. She is fucking impossible to attain or even be close to me. Impossible, and I still cannot state the reasons. Everything hurts me and there is very little left to help. I need this glass of whiskey to do its job this morning. I really do. Nothing else can suppress and derail so much Goddamned desire. I don’t understand why my situation has become so terrible. Maybe there are a few reasons, but sitting here in the chair and standing on the beach means I have to find the strength to both overcome the desire and make a choice as to which way I should go. I often state that I have never felt so down. That fact seems to be worsening because right now I cannot recall ever feeling worse. It’s everything... The connections which have all disappeared for one reason or another, the mass of desire that hits me like a wrecking ball every fucking morning, and the emptiness that fills me at this very moment as well as appearing to fill my future. If I knew the doors could help, I’d already be off this beach. The sun still has not moved. Nine days of this have passed and I am still completely fucked in the head. Maybe I should throw more stuff in the trash. Doing so sometimes helps. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my love.’ Fuck. I wish I could shut her up, but at the same time I do understand. At least if I venture through an opening there is a strong possibility that I will appear on the deck plates of a massive locomotive, meaning I could flex such power and feel a tiny bit more in control of things. I just don’t know. The other side could also be a deserted wasteland of heat and dust, much like the negative material plane. What the fuck did I learn while there besides knowing that scorpions can wear headphones? Will I see Julie lying in the bathroom all covered in blood? Will I see that man again? I killed him, but in those worlds, nothing is certain or permanent, methinks. Anything could be awaiting my arrival. I need help but am too scared to take the steps. The beach is peaceful for the time being. At least I believe Julia is there, but which way? Maybe Julia will allow me to gaze at her lines. I’ve seen them before, but that was many years ago. She was very kind and understood because she was created in my head. Think about that one for a minute... I conjured her out of thin air like some gorgeous apparition, spent time with her, and now she is waiting for me on the other side of one of the doors. I am standing between them and sitting here typing the words at the same time. Isn’t that splendid? I am so heeled over that the mainmast is about to get wet. My life is simple, yet complicated. I have to do something before further losing my mind. The spacers for the compensating sprocket on the motorcycle arrived a few minutes ago. Hopefully I can build the primary drive and align everything for the last time. I suppose I can tackle the dry cleaning while out there. That way I can keep an eye on the timer and pull the clothes out before they begin to wrinkle. Hmm... Bike work and dry cleaning. Both can distract me for a while, yet neither can truly help. Like Tony said, ‘It’s all just a series of distractions before you die’. I cannot disagree. Something has to happen before I walk away from this computer, though. Something important and potentially dangerous. I must decide and move. Adriana is wearing that bra that seems to have twin straps on each side. I don’t know what that means, but when I see her I feel love as if she was my sister. This has nothing to do with anything. Sometimes comments step across the keyboard when I am trying to gather my thoughts. Ugh. Whatever. Pick one, dipshit. Pick one and live through the consequences. Which? They are identical. Julia said she has been waiting for me. Will she be on the other side of whichever I choose? I’m scared. I need her. I need a lot of things right now. I need to know as much as I need to understand myself. I just fucking need to know. The time has come. To the left with my heart in my throat. Left. Take a step, idiot. Take a fucking step. Into the opening I go..." 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June 12th 2023 11:07am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Two Doors read ( words) "Perhaps all I really need is for those ears to listen and then tell me why I am still alive. The rest may be tertiary. Happiness is relative. Fulfillment might be nothing more than a myth. I will probably never know the truth. 0906. Will today be THE day? Does she understand? No answers. I see a door out of this shit, though. This is how it happens... The morning became dire due to memories, a disastrous situation began to develop, and then everything malfunctioned leaving me an angry pile of discontent. This is not good and it happens all too often. I’ve seen, yet still cannot understand how such situations have come to pass, but I’ll tell you one thing, too much more of this feeling and I’ll fix it the only way I know how. I have the tools. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again... This is how I have developed due to the actions of other people. Unfair? No, I’ve gone over that philosophy too much already. There is no fair or unfair, there is only misery. Carmela often has duck lips. So fucking cute. Her talent far outweighs the beauty, though. Far. Whatever. Thank the maker I am an alcoholic or all of this would be too heavy. That type of thinking is dead wrong, but it is all I have left. I never thought I would be seeing the world this way after all these years. The future used to be wide-open. Now it is black. What a fucking depressing situation this is to be considering where I have been versus where I seem to be headed. Blackness. Buffer stop. At the end of one story, I died on the rails, but when writing that damaging tale, I had no idea it was to become a prophecy. Rails do not bend unless under the weight of the train, and then only downward. Turns? Nope. 1021. Half of the routine is finished. I need to keep the house fairly quiet right now. I also need to work on extracting some imagery from my brain this morning. The more I dwell, the worse I feel, yet at the same time I have a hell of a time trying to find enough motivation to fucking move at all. Ah... There is Jojo again, all lanky and sensitive. That’s the most important part... Her sensitivity. It is exuded through her eyes and tells me that despite the fact that the woman is a fictional character, I need the same type of understanding. She is wonderful. A touch goofy, but wonderful. And holy fuck is that woman tall. Sometimes she reminds me of Fiona or Paulie’s goomar, Michelle. Very sweet and kind all the time. Ugh. What the fuck was I saying before the flaming redhead appeared? Ah... I don’t give a fuck about anything these days. I am going through the motions, nothing more. I have been affected too much. Routed. Squished. Fucked over. I’ll get to the rest of my shit when I feel good and ready. On the upside, the combination of alcohol and the passage of time have all but eliminated my feelings of desire. This is the point in the day when desire turns to anger. Too bad I am nothing more than a tiny person with zero impact upon anything. Tiny. All I have is a keyboard and some web storage. Maybe I should save time and simply drink myself to death. Give me a reason to do otherwise. Go for it. 1106. My flex sockets arrived and they are in excellent shape. The tool array continues to grow. I still have yet to move further with my housework today because of the quiet. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. My schedule is up to me, anyway, so there is no reason for concern. By contrast, the other aspects of my existence are cause for much concern. Those who know me personally should be worried. The only reason I am sitting here at this very moment is the benefit of those little enjoyments of which I’ve spoken on many occasions. When they fail to lift me from the din, there will be no reason to do anything. That means I’ll pull the trigger. I have never felt so insignificant or depressed. Not good. Thankfully, the alcohol has again helped to suppress the mass of physical desire I feel each day. Now all I have to do is live through to evening time. If doing so helps me to feel accomplished in any way, I will make it to tomorrow. I am trying to avoid looking at the door. My preponderance for OCD presses me to ensure the glass of whiskey is always resting squarely on the coaster. That is a little funny. Some aluminum and stainless tubing will be arriving via UPS today. I plan to thread one of the lengths so the adjustment screws on the axles of my truck can be replaced with parts that encapsulate the lines from the steering block rather than just relying upon friction to stay in place when the steering moves one way or the other. I’ve been wanting to solidify the system since last fall when I operated the truck. The process of working on my project helps push away so many damaging feelings that it is almost worthwhile. The downside is that once the steering has been completed to my satisfaction, the entire machine will return to its display case and sit there until I have another idea for improvement. I have no illusions that the truck will ever be completed. I only work on it from time to time in order to forget the rest of my issues. The sum of mental and emotional distress cannot be fully repaired by a hobby, no matter how complex. Distraction is only temporary. Everything returns. I am unhappy and very angry. Nothing in reality can fix both. 1426. Out of gas, both literally and figuratively. I finished the kitchen, had some lunch, and then worked in the garage a bit. Mostly I straightened my tools and work area. I also rolled one bike off the lift and parked it inside so the other one can be returned there for further work. At one point I was tempted to cruise the other neighbor’s bike around the block, too. Yes, I was tempted, but within minutes I was reduced by the prospect like everything else requiring risk. Fear took over before I could even start the engine. Splendid. I haven’t been on two wheels for more than twenty years, and I suppose the self-preservation instinct kicked in before I could take a ride. Moreover, the bike does not belong to me, meaning if anything goes wrong, I am responsible. Maybe I’m too old for fun anymore. I’ll be driving to the bar in about half an hour to catch up with my friend. After all this patio cover bullshit, I’m beginning to believe that there are very few who either take me seriously or care about me at all. Not good. I am so fucking lost. At least I already know that I’ll be pleasantly greeted when I arrive at the bar. That never changes. Right now I feel more like sleeping than driving anywhere. Ugh. Yesterday was not different. The day is now Saturday and I am sitting here without reason yet again. There was a woman in denim shorts shooting pool at the bar last night. At one point she bent over the table with straight legs and I saw symmetrical lines for a moment. The sight would have been nicer if she hadn’t been such a flamboyant type. Slender, too. My partner noticed and stated that the image was incorrect because the shorts were not the ‘torn’ type. Heh. Anyway, aside from seeing her lines a bit, nothing exciting took place over there. Just some conversation. As for being out of the house for a little while, I could honestly take it or leave it. No caring. The day moved along as it did and none of it matters. The morning was key. The French girl is on the screen again. Damn. What I wouldn’t give to... And then AJ and Devin, the latter being a sweet girl I wanted to jump for years. He was rather an idiot, I must say. Anyway, today won’t amount to much because I don’t care. My brain keeps returning to yesterday and I just can’t be positive or happy after such malfunctions and other bullshit. I can’t. I’ll have to embrace the little pleasures. You know, the simple stuff. I have nothing else. I am losing a little bit of direction each day. Soon I will have none. And the French girl again, super-tall and gorgeous. I think she’s growing on me. Where was I? Ah... Today. My routine will be simple, but beyond that, I just don’t know. So far this morning, I feel very down and concerned about the future. I hope this doesn’t reach the point of interrupting my work too much. I really don’t want to completely lose my way. Not now. I need some fucking ears, although that idea also brings up issues. If I speak, the words are out forever. I can’t bring them back, nor will I have any control over the situation. None. If I attempt such a move and later decide it was a mistake, I will not be able to deal with the consequences. The idea seems wonderful at times because I’ve been bottled up for so long that I believe relief would wash over me very quickly. I had a short dream of her again, and that makes the fifth damaging dream so far. Fifth. I can’t go into what I saw, though. The information is far too sensitive for the public domain. No, not intimate; just touchy. The point is my subconscious continues to manufacture scenarios in which she and I are somehow connected. Not good. I am still hung up on her for whatever reason. Of course, one possibility is due to the girl being unattainable. Sometimes that feeling can drive a person to desire the other even more. I don’t know. Anyway, another dream and one more vision. Splendid. I am beginning to wonder how many times I can sit here and say the same things (without really speaking) with different words. Eventually, I will run out of methods and have nothing to do here. I stopped trying to describe the forms I see, as well. I mentioned the woman by the pool table, yet there were no real issues driven by that situation. The others? I don’t see any point in going on about someone because she will disappear and another will come along. That will never end. But to sit here and attempt to convey what I feel during those moments is fucking ridiculous. I’ve gone over that road so many times that the pavement is sinking. As for the rest, well... I don’t know what the fuck else to do in this life. Projects? I can’t get myself to care enough because nothing aside from this exposition feels necessary or even interesting. I like to type, as well. I don’t know why. Honestly, I don’t know much of anything these days. All of my technical knowledge only helps others. My emotional intelligence seems to be waning and is much more important than anything else. I don’t believe mine developed very well over time, and combined with the way I feel these days, the conclusion is that I will never be able to fully connect with anyone. I am a mess, and that could be the main reason for being compelled to continue this shit. And then there is the typing... I love typing. Ugh. I don’t know what to do. The shit from yesterday morning keeps returning whenever I am not paying attention to anything. The issue just floats into my brain and causes a little drop due to knowing that there is only one way to fully understand and/or care for such a problem. Unfortunately, I do not see such a possibility in the future. I am far too disconnected now, and improvement of the situation would require something wholly miraculous. I am worried and scared of this. 0903. The coffee has not been very exciting this morning. But Oksana’s shoulders are an entirely different story. I could lick them all day long. Anyway, I suppose I’ll rise soon and take care of a few things. I am not running at a hundred percent right now but that will change in a little while. Sitting here is not good for ambition. There is always something to be cleaned or reworked. I’ll get away from this machine in a few minutes. 1024. Maybe not yet. My head is so fucked up that I am surprised to accomplish anything these days. Much of it is for distracting myself from the current condition, though. Nothing more. I can’t really get myself to care about anything. Maybe it’s time to thin some possessions again. I’ve been meaning to create space lately, yet not much has been done. I’ll have to gather all of the clothes and other items for donation because they will pick up everything once I schedule a date. That’s really nice. I can’t really do anything about the ever-increasing food, though. I usually just find ways of storing it until the holidays when the scouts run a drive. They also pick up here. If I can move away from this table and begin the housework, perhaps I’ll feel better and be able to suppress the issues again. Well, enough to make it through one day, anyway. That’s all I can ask anymore. Ugh. I need understanding ears. They may not exist. There was a chance some years ago, but like everything else that feels good, it went away. Now everything feels bad. Sunday, the fourth of June. What about yesterday? Did she understand? Eh... She wasn’t there. I did the bare minimum and relaxed. I will say that from some angles, Valentina does display pretty big fucking eyes, but the underlying issues I’ve had with the way she speaks always ruins any appreciation before it goes too far. Something is wrong there, I believe. Anyway, not much went on yesterday and I don’t care. She wasn’t there, the understanding flew away again, and there were moments of becoming so disillusioned with everything that I stood still not knowing which way to turn. Not a really good day. The morning went south (like almost every day) and I couldn’t pull myself out of the din during the afternoon or evening. I have to remedy the situation today or I’ll lose my shit again. 0706. I have to break out the laptop today for editing an image that is to be included in a new shirt design. I have different software on this machine which is new and quite different, so I have to use the older program if I want to finish the detailed work in a reasonable amount of time. Once I am satisfied with the image, I’ll probably integrate the design and have the shirts printed. I also have laundry, dry cleaning and the usual Sunday business that will kick off in roughly two hours. I haven’t seen her lately, nor have I seen much of anything else, and I believe the lack of visions has caused similar distress to when I see too much. Does that make sense? The whole thing is similar, yet different. I miss her, and I miss dreaming that she can make everything okay. The only other dream girl who removed the difficulty from my life was Jamie, and that was merely a one time thing. Does she understand? Will today be the day when everything changes? I need to see her, but at the same time, I already know that no good will be served if she enters my eyes. I’ll just fall all over myself with goo goo ga ga again and come out the other side worse off than I am right now. A dream early this morning had me all excited that good things were coming to my life. I had found an item which belonged to either a theme park or film studio which they had been seeking for a long time. It was a proprietary model of a future project that had disappeared. How did I find it? I have no idea, but I brought it to the right people because they appreciated the effort and honestly enough to offer me a job within their secret studio. I was so excited that I could barely think straight. Some of my problems were disappearing due to seeing a future for myself. When I awakened, my brain descended into the same fucking soup and I lost all those good feelings. Nothing good like that is going to happen in my life. Nothing. I already know. The dreams only exacerbate everything that troubles me these days. I’ll just have to forget about it, rather like trying to be happy at all. That thing I mentioned on a few occasions has been coming to mind more and more often lately. The other one from last year, too. One is a problem and the other is quite the opposite... It is a wondrous, dreamy situation over which I have little control (it is gone now, anyway) and something which requires help in order for me to understand. That is just not going to happen, unfortunately, and the biggest downside to such a situation is that it will never come to pass again. Another facet of life gone for good. Erase one of the marks next to that list of reasons why I am still breathing. Believe it or not, the issue which arose last year is likely something that can be dealt with fairly easily. There is no need for understanding with regard to that one, either, but something else is necessary; also completely gone, most likely forever. This is probably the largest clambake imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am right now. Coffee. Does she understand? Can she, ever? Is anything out there? So lost... I think today will be good for ridding myself of a few items. Things become lost or otherwise buried within spaces that I don’t explore very often, and lately I’ve been feeling that organization will somehow help me to relax and think. I don’t know why, but the process has worked in the past. I don’t really have other avenues right now. Today should be full of work. I need to keep busy and try to push away my feelings again. No options; no hope; little of anything else. I don’t know what to fuckin’ write here anymore. The same shit keeps coming to my fingers and then the ideas go nowhere. Housework? Projects? None of that shit matters. The deeper feelings and problems continue to plague me, yet no matter how driven I become, the words end up masked to the point of conveying almost nothing. This is not good. I still sit here on and off every day because I have no other way of approaching my life anymore. This will continue until I find a different path or set of rails. The dream from early this morning really screwed me. I can’t have such wonder and hope wash over me only to watch them both disappear in an instant. Not good. In some ways, this latest blissful yet fictional situation rivals the one born of the damaging dreams. I don’t seem to have nightmares anymore. Whenever I am visited by something while sleeping, I eventually awaken to reality and am reminded that my life is going nowhere good. Splendid. Clambake. Fucked. Last cup of coffee. I’ll tend to my housework soon. The time is only 0830 and I am already feeling antsy. I also feel like a complete failure. No direction. 1008. Thankfully, I found some inner part of me that needed to get going. So, most of my daily routine is now finished, the second load of laundry is drying, and I straightened the three main living areas. I also poured a nice, big glass of depressant for reasons of good form. I am trying to suppress the damage from earlier. I lived through a mass of discontent, dissatisfaction and fear, and was eventually driven to malfunction and disaster. Yep... Again with the fucking disaster. The booze might help me come to terms with such a fucked up situation. I don’t know what to do anymore. This is not good. I am on my way down. There is a door below me, waiting. I don’t understand why the door does not seem to be attached to anything. I can see around the top and both sides, the ground below my feet notwithstanding. If I can see to the other side, why would I go through it? Will something change? This is not some King novel, either. It is my own mystery, and one I feel compelled to solve. This situation is rather like the way I perceive time on the clock and the manner in which a circular clock resembles a path for the hands. Moreover, the calendar has its own path, one of squares typically laid out from left to right. I see it and think of hopscotch or some other journey leading from one place to another involving a row of individual spaces. Regarding the months and seasons, I often see an enormous circle – much like the clock – floating in space. The current month is June, and picturing the rest of the year feels like a clockwise journey around to the opposite side, December. The days are squares, the months being made up of rows of the same. The clock is a circle. The calendar in my head is a huge circle. My life is often described as a circle, and then equated to rails going nowhere aside from leading to where I have already been. All of this pushes me to feel confusion regarding a door. And don’t give me a blast of shit because of the title being pushed off for hundreds of lines before I’ve addressed it. Shut up. I am not a mentally healthy person, nor is any of this easy. 0817 on Monday morning. Is she on the other side of the door? Waiting? Maybe waiting for me? I have lots of questions. I can see over there and nothing is apparent. I don’t even see the rails. I’ve been going in circles for a very long time, so the door could be a way to switch paths, perhaps. I have the little circle and the bigger one representing the way of the world through the calendar year. Two circles. Up to this point in time I have never seen a door. There were bags, though. Remember? Bags of shit so heavy that there was no forgetting the past. Bags. Well, now there is a door. I don’t know if I want to learn what it represents or not. This could be the beginning of an even worse part of life. It could also mean my end. The only glimmer I see right now is the possibility of her on the other side waiting to tell me everything will be ok. Not likely, though. That is not fucking likely. Many times I’ve stated that there is to be no good for me in this life, and the door does not negate such a fact. I wish she was there. I really do. I fucking need something. Last of the coffee. Gangsters again, for whatever reason. Familiarity, perhaps. I don’t know what else to do, but I will say that I can’t have any media playing over there which requires my full attention while typing. As it is now, I pause the stream quite often. Whatever. This is the first day in over two weeks which I have all to myself. The quiet time may help me understand the door. I can only hope. It is very strange, much like the cryptic dreams I had which frightened me to death. Maybe the other side of the door is another dimension? What does that mean? Or a different time? The past? I’ve been through those moments on the train, such as being forced to face something from years ago which haunts me every day, or seeing past scenes play out in excruciating detail. The door could also be nothing more than wishful thinking that my world can be changed in some way. Improved? I don’t know. I don’t want to approach the fucking thing. Part of me is recalling that hallway which was supposed to be some lesson. Remember the story? The gunman was shooting at me and I had very little time to understand the Goddamned portraits hanging along each wall. Ugh. I don’t need any more of that type of thing. I am going to try to understand this situation while I work around the house today. Plenty of time. Maybe the door leads to hell. Maybe it leads to her. Eh... Not likely. 1104. I finished the daily routine, and during my sweeping I noticed police cars in the court nearby. Oh, boy. My neighbor called me yesterday afternoon and said he saw police over there in force, as in two cities’ worth of patrols with guns drawn. Yikes. Supporting that, when the officers walked back to their cars this morning, one was carrying a riot gun. I don’t know what’s been happening over there, but I will say that I hope everyone is alright. This neighborhood is typically very quiet except for the fourth of July. Heh. Anyway, my regular stuff is out of the way. I’ve been considering the door, too. I still don’t know what to think, but regardless of my perception, it is there before me. Tuesday. Doors in my sleep. The time is only 0654 and I am already anticipating having the early business out of the way so I can sit here and think. Something has to happen – and soon – if I am to remain alright. There was a massive issue yesterday in which I had to avoid staring at someone. Huge problem. I glanced because of the amazing nature of the sight, but then turned and pulled focus elsewhere for reasons of good form. I can’t describe the problem here, but I will say that her pants were almost shiny black and appeared to be about as thin as possible without falling apart. The image stuck with me throughout the evening and into this morning, too. I remained in good form yesterday despite the incredibly strong pull at my senses and the deep need to grab her and run away. I do not know her, either, so remaining at a distance was a little easier than if we had been involved in polite conversation or the like. I stayed away. Those few seconds allowed me to see an uncompromising form, meaning I’ll be thinking about her for a while. The center seam alone was enough to send me into the ground at breakneck speed. But... I can’t talk about it. Break. Neck. I wish the other side of the door was the inside of her pants. Fuck it... Shoot me. I don’t fucking care anymore. I need her. More importantly, I need her to understand. Does she? Can she? Eh... 0805. The early business is out of the way and I got a head start on my routine. The coffee has been flowing like a two-bit whore this morning. I can’t get the image of her shape out of my fucking head, damn it. I need to stop dreaming of her and move along like a real grown-up type of person. This situation sucks out loud and right down to the ground. She is competing with the door and I really don’t need that this morning. Ugh. What could be on the other side? The hallway again? I don’t want to be forced into merging this topic with the fiction I wrote a few years ago. That will undoubtedly lead to visions of Jaime the machine and her ever-changing eye color. I loved her. Well... Love her. Maybe she is waiting for me on the other side? I am afraid. At least Jaime never pulled a knife on me. Remember that? Another unfinished parable. I wish I hadn’t seen her yesterday. The sight has created a host of problems inside me ranging from the damaging dreams, on to the race girl and the festival last fall, and then straight to the way my feelings have changed in the past year. Over and over I see her walking and that fucking seam speaking to me like God himself. The image is so powerful right now that it has me questioning my entire life. ‘It’s a livin.’ ‘IT'S A WASTE OF LIFE.’ I am feeding the depression as I ponder the door situation. Maybe there is some kind of decision I need to make, or perhaps have already made which has placed me here in front of this gateway. I can’t be certain. The other side of the doorway could be as simple as making a change in the way I am living life. Something is there, no doubt. I can feel the power of the door, too. I can feel it as strongly as I feel desire for all those impossible parts of life. Knowing what is on the other side is a dire need at this point. I’ve been staring for days. The only change since yesterday at this time is a group of silhouettes off to my left that seem to have grown out of the water. The sand below immediately allowed me to localize the door as being next to a large body of water such as the ocean. I can smell the water, too. The gray silhouettes are out there at an undetermined distance and causing me to swing my head back and forth as if I’ve been attending a tennis match. I am trying to focus on the door and surrounding areas, yet those figures off to the left have begun to command a good portion of my attention. I don’t know whether to be scared or curious. And now I am feeling as if I’m being watched from beyond my peripheral vision. Far left; past the silhouettes. Turning... And there is another fucking door. The wind began to pick up yesterday morning and continues to gust even now. I watched the forecast and there was no mention of such gales. Unbelievable. I was awakened during the wee hours by our power line support cable repeatedly contacting the roof, which happens to be just above the master bedroom. I feel rested despite the noise, though. Not bad. Looking out the window right now, I see that the wind is still strong. Hopefully it doesn’t strengthen to the point of knocking out the power. I have batteries charging just in case. The only concern I ever have with regard to losing power is media, and I always have the option of using my phone coupled with the wireless MDRs. Both can charge off the power tool batteries, as well. I have to maintain my comfort regardless of the electricity situation. Without the familiarity of the media playing, my days would be completely fucked up. I am wholly dependent upon video programming. Whatever that makes me, I don’t care. My life has been pared down to very few operations of late. I need what I need and that is that. Nothing will change unless she darkens my doorstep with the understanding of which I have dreamed for decades. The mail just arrived. Nice. 1048. The necessities of my daily routine are finished. I need time to think. I just saw one of the two over whom I’ve been gushing. Her shorts were the very definition of such an article of clothing... Very ‘short’. Jesus. The only line was her sweatshirt which covered the lower end of the shorts and made it appear that she had nothing underneath the baggy top garment. God damn shit fuck, anyway. I have never wanted her so badly. Bouncing breasts. I am a basket case of the highest order right now. Rarely have I wished to see inside a woman’s clothing so fucking much. I need to see everything. I need to see her fucking lines and often feel that I will die without knowing. Fucking hell... This is so ridiculous that even I can’t believe it. I guess I’ll die anyway, but it would be nice to see everything before I am in a grave. Ah... My booze order is ready early. Maybe I’ll drive over there and pick it up today. The time consumption and distraction could be helpful right now. Life is moving along outside my window and I feel like no part of it whatsoever. I’ll get out there and drive. Wednesday, 0630. Coffee. Jamie is over there in all her fourth season glory. I love her. Someone else, too. And the other one. Never mind. There is too much shit in my head. I noticed the right rear tire on my car was low the other day. I topped it with the portable inflator and then took off for the wine store. Halfway home again and the warning light came on. Shit. I pulled into a parking lot less than a half mile from here to check, and sure enough it was back down to less than eight pounds. The inflator was ineffective, so I limped the car home. Now I have to pull the wheel and install the stupid space-saver so I can drive to the tire shop. Ugh. Whatever. At least I have the impact gun to make the process go a little faster. Once my morning moves along a bit further, I’ll take care of the car and head over the hill via surface streets to avoid the highway. I need my car in good shape because it represents the ability to take off whenever necessary for my peace of mind. I’ll work on the early business in a little while. The door is causing me to feel apprehension regarding everything. Even my daily routine is at risk right now because just below the surface of each simple thought is the idea that I am going to either destroy myself or be destroyed, and whatever is on the other side of that door represents the end of me. One way or another, I am feeling as if the end is near. Yesterday, each activity required tremendous effort, and I am speaking of anything that had been very simple or straightforward at one time. This downhill slide began some time ago and continues unimpeded regardless of my feelings or daily activities. I may be standing on level ground right now, but believe me... Enough grade is present to force me into realizing that my life is nearing its end. I can’t do anything without pausing out of concern, and that makes each new day a little more difficult than the last. I’d like to think that heading through the doorway could save me, but I am too smart for such delusions. I already know being saved through understanding is impossible. The salt air is not helping my concentration, either. The water is to the left, and way off in the opposite direction is some greenery. Everywhere else is sand and driftwood. 0747. The early business has been completed and I have hours to myself for whatever seems best. Conversely, the hours could leave me worse off than I am right now. There is no way to tell this early in the day. At some point I’ll have to pull the wheel off the car and head over to the shop. A bit later, I guess. The entire operation requires that I feel ambitious. Right now I have no idea whether or not I’ll feel like leaving the house. Or, I may not feel like doing anything at all. Time will tell. Those doors in front and behind are making me nervous. I hope there isn’t a clock ticking somewhere. This situation is starting to remind me of being on the train with the adorable little Julie. We blew it to smithereens, too. I don’t have explosives right now, either. I don’t possess much of anything, really. Ugh. I need to know the reason or reasons why these doors appeared and what may lie beyond each. I’m nervous, just like when I first entered that crazy, backward hotel a few years ago. The sand below my feet is warm, as is the sun above. Light cloud cover is present. As I said before, this is not some King novel, so I probably don’t need to worry about lobster creatures or anything else. This place seems deserted. Quiet, too. Maybe I should finish off the coffee and care for the car before continuing to worry about the fucking doors. One thing at a time, just like most weekdays. Stop. 1027 is what I see on the clock. The daily routine has been finished and the second wave of dishes is drip-drying to save water. I don’t think I’ll be going to the tire store because I need to remain home. After a little break, I’m going to return to the garage and straighten everything while seeking items to toss in the trash. Most of the storage out there has been overlooked and sitting idle for several years, meaning I can look around and create space. The bikes are idle, too. I don’t feel like furthering either project right now. The doors and my future are taking priority. I will say that the quiet time and space to think are fucking amazing today. I don’t always feel as such, but sometimes I can’t help but appreciate being home nearly all of the time. I feel like the doorways are waiting, as if there is a limit to how long I can delay entering one of them. And I will admit that a part of me has been wishing to return to the wasteland of the negative material plane in the off chance that I will connect with Jaime again. Yep, the battery-powered machine goddess with eyes that change color and a knack for comforting me no matter how dire circumstances may become. I love that woman, real or not, and if you consider my penchant for conjuring impossible women with the power to save my life, such a fact is far from surprising. All those trips up and down the highway a few years ago yielded what seemed an endless search for something wonderful – much like the dream of Jaime – yet took a heavy toll on my mind. Now I am far worse off and further out of balance, believe it or not. I just switched off the video media in favor of the music of life. The compositions bring me back to the dark days of ten and eleven, as well as my time with the Raven and so many desperate feelings and dangerous situations that I fail to recall everything. When I hear certain tracks, my head quickly reverts to one of two moods: The first is suicide; the second being the forest mindset. Either is fine with me right now because I am having an increasingly difficult time caring about what may ensue if I were to disappear. In the case of suicide, I probably would not know, anyway, so the forest seems more appealing and far more demonstrative. The year of sixteen comes to mind, as well. I was pretty close to the final solution back then. Seventeen was not much better, either. Looking back and forth between one door and the other has been pressing me to consider that the two disparate mindsets mentioned above could be the respective results of stepping through one of them. I don’t know what to do, and such a thought is nowhere near surprising at this point in time. Is this situation a choice to live or die? One door for each? They appear to be exactly the same. And... If they truly lead in other directions, why can’t I see what is on the other side? Perhaps I watch too much science fiction. And now a voice... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ God damn fuck shit anyway. I don’t need Julia right now... Or do I? She was always so cryptic. God damn is this whiskey ever delicious. I have been confronted with doors in the past, both figurative and literal. The last literal door was a few years ago and I burned it to ash with my damaging personality and evil methods, and soon after, the ash was disregarded through even more damaging practices. Nothing can be done about that one, unfortunately, but at least there was a lesson involved which I haven’t forgotten. Some damage cannot be undone due to a combination of age and apathy. I am in a very destructive mood right now. I’ll have to rein in this shit, and soon, lest I lose my already precarious place in the world. I see 1114 on the clock but I could swear I’ve lived a thousand hours since rising from bed this morning. 0642 on Thursday morning with sunshine and coffee. I am planning to spend as much time as possible in front of this machine today. At some point I’ll be heading over the hill to have the tire repaired, but other than that bit of business and my usual stuff, I really don’t feel up to working too much. Something caught me upside the head last night and I can’t seem to shake the negative feelings. And I mean negative. I actually learned a very uncomfortable lesson through a phrase and was immediately taken aback. During the split-second it took for me to regain the facade, I realized there has been a very wrong situation in place for many years, and even after suspecting such feelings, I did not consider the sheer depth of everything until hearing such words. Now I don’t know what to think, but one certainty is that I have stepped back a touch in order to keep my eye on things a little more closely than I have in the past. Prior to what took place last night, the day had been quite productive. One bike was completed and is out of the garage and the other is back on the lift and ready for me to continue the project. I also straightened the garage somewhat and tossed a pile of crap into the trash. By the end of business hours, the day seemed pretty positive. Little did I know that a very specific type of information was going to hit me very hard and raise questions like never before. Now the die has been cast. Cooling. I have to consider the fact that the doors are here because of the way I’ve been treated in the past, or at least the reverse. This cannot be a coincidence. Death? Oh, and to add insult to injury, early this morning was a flash-dream of her running nearby in a tank top. I would say two seconds of visions before I awakened. Everything is piling atop everything else inside my brain. Almost time for the morning business. Done. Now I have the day to myself, good or bad as such a prospect may be. The doors are making me nervous. There is so much information inside me that I cannot convey here (or to another person, for sure) that I am hoping one of those doorways leads to the understanding and concern for which I’ve been searching for years. I need to speak with another person. I really do. There is so much fear inherent in the idea of actually letting go of some of this information that I wouldn’t be able to simply relax and just work through the process. Maybe one door leads to understanding and the other to doom. I don’t know. They are there, however... Staring back at me. Can I walk away and avoid both? I need help. Malfunction. I don’t know if I am going to the tire store today or not. I feel that remaining home might be best, but then again, I don’t like the idea that I can’t drive far. That feels like a restriction, something with which I have never dealt pleasantly. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my dear. Ashamed.’ ‘Damn it.’ ‘Relax. Think about the doors.’ Great. Just what I need right now... Julia’s returning to confuse the hell out of me. Maybe my feelings of late incited the doors’ appearance, or perhaps something in my mind finally snapped and conjured that beautiful woman a third time. I can hear her but not see. All I see is the seashore and two doorways. At least there are no rails right now. The last time I rode the rails was very painful and dredged up all sorts of images from both the near and far past. I really don’t want to live through that shit again. At some point I will have to make the decision to either walk through one of them or walk away. At this very moment, I have no idea what may be best for me. The time is now 0913 and my head continues to lean toward having the tire repaired and reinstalled. I don’t like feeling as if I am stuck here, although getting the hell out for a little while may help alleviate the morning difficulties and subsequent malfunction. I am the only person who can darken the two nearby doorsteps. 1053 and nothing around the house has been touched because I ventured to the tire store. Now I have to wait, possibly another couple of hours. I strolled down the Real to get some cigarettes because I didn't realize I'd be stuck here. Damn. On the upside, the repair will be finished and I don't have anything else pressing right now. The routine can wait. I need my car in good working order. The doors followed along. So did her voice. Sitting here really slams home the reality of my mass of free time these days. Even if I'm stuck all the way to 1330 (the outside estimate), it doesn't impact my day at all. The only difference is my work time becomes shifted to after lunch. I could sit here all fucking day and it wouldn't matter. Waiting in a situation like this is very unusual and forces me to look at the clock in a different light. The time is now 1110. I keep hearing her voice, yet the woman is nowhere to be found. The words are echoing, just like during that strange rail trip into a netherworld. Two, actually. I hope nothing of the like is in my future. Twice was plenty. I have to pause now. Home again. 1449. My routine is finished after less than half an hour of work. Not bad. I also had a light snack so as to avoid messing up my appetite for dinner later. I was gone for more than four hours – time well-spent because of the importance of my car, naturally – and now that I am home I realize everything swirled inside me while out. Everything. When I took a walk south to the little market for cigarettes, a moment of pause took me for a few seconds. There was a girl tending to a small child in the back seat of a parallel parked car, and her lines were in full view for me as I passed. Yep, no matter what may be taking place in my sordid life, there will always be a vision to trip me up. I continued, of course, and eventually returned to the shop. I thought of the damaging dreams, the doors, Julia, all the shit from last year, and tying it all together was a pair of past experiences. You guessed it... The trains. And then? Not long before the work was completed, I ventured outside for a smoke and spied a train crossing a nearby street, all speedy and powerful. That was the train the Raven and I rode at the beginning of one of the worst days of my entire life. The memory was like the cherry perched atop a vast sundae of damage and regret. I am having a difficult time writing. Friday. I have to draw another line. No, not THAT type of line. More like a restriction. I discovered a problem last night, yet sitting here twelve hours later I still don’t know how it happened. It’s not a big deal, though, and only requires a small change in my behavior. Today is going to be ideal for finding insight because after all that shit yesterday, I will actually have this day to myself. I need not go anywhere. My head has to consider the impact of the doors and what they represent, plus I need to learn the reason why Julia seems upset with me. ‘Ashamed.’ Ok, so... I am sometimes ashamed due to aspects of the way my mind operates. But that is not to say that I feel badly toward myself all the time. She was very pointed with those words. Last year’s alteration to the way I think carries to this very second. There is no way she could know about all those dreams, though, is there? I don’t know. I have to figure this shit out. Oh, and the line. Yeah. Another fucking line. Great. The house must remain quiet today if I am to understand whatever kind of decision this seems to be. Well, I did mention simply walking away, too. I don’t know. Nothing seems to be changing; not the landscape, position of the sun in the sky, nothing, so perhaps I have all the time in the world to learn what I can. Again, I just don’t know. Her voice is something with which I’ve been familiar for years. She posed questions and offered little observations here and there with some sort of half-assed methodology, effectively leaving me to figure shit out mostly on my own. I needed her help sometimes, and so she helped. But the questions? I really don’t want to hear them these days. Her words are one thing, but the doorways (doors?) are entirely different. I already know she will not help me work out why they have appeared, so maybe I’ll just ignore her offhand comments and occasional rhetoric. Whatever else needs to be done today, I plan to spend a lot of time considering my current situation and will not allow myself to be pushed or pulled in any direction. I should have some hours alone prior to the evening. 1131. The doors (doorways?) are looming large here on the beach. I can feel them. All my work in the house is finished, but the inside of my head is still processing everything. That includes last night. What I did not remember is some discussion of family, something I do not generally enjoy because of the past. Well, I spilled the beans and now don’t know what to think. One possibility is that the doors may be related to dealing with the past, much like the trips I was forced to take on the beautiful trains. Remember the passenger cars? Those issues were never solved, so perhaps Julia has placed more puzzles in front of me in order to force my hand once again. I can’t be certain unless I take action, and the fear has been holding me back for days. Another idea is that her voice never stopped resonating and I simply blocked it. At least she loves me and would never cause me harm. Pain and discomfort, heartache, but not harm. Her motives were always driven by care. At some point I am going to have to choose. The way I feel today – despite accomplishing my housework while being rather weak – is leading me to need relaxation and quiet rather than some otherworldly adventure. Maybe I should put some space between myself and the doors for a while. Maybe. I honestly don’t know what to do, but physical comfort is at the top of my list today. The doorways (doors?) can loom all they want. Saturday morning. 0644. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday. I believe the other night was part of the problem as I recall one topic from the many conversations... Children. Somehow, I fell off the wagon of information and spilled a few key terms from the past, thus leaving myself in the same situation as if I had wished to confide in someone. I don’t believe there will be any trouble, though, because the late hour and condition of people mean much of what was said is already forgotten. One further point of this information is that each time I worry about what I’ve remembered, the emotional stability that has been so precariously balanced for the last two decades diminishes a bit more. Only so much more of such loss and I will be gone. To say that I am paranoid doesn’t even scratch the surface. Too many years of being disregarded, not taken seriously, and insulted have combined and left me no way out of feeling so frightened all the time, especially when something critical slips out. I regret it. Fear leads to anger, as many a book will tell you, when there can be no recourse. Hence? Me. Hopefully, the apprehension still boiling underneath the surface is for naught. I need to take care of the early business soon. Afterward, back to this machine. ‘Ashamed.’ Thanks, babe. I really needed to hear that crap. Leave me alone, please, and allow me time to figure this shit to its end. At some point I will probably simply enter one opening and learn of where it may lead. Which? I don’t have a clue because they are completely identical. What kind of decision could these doors represent? Or do they even require a decision? Maybe if I walk into one I will emerge from the other. No... That is too much ‘science fiction’ to be related to these situations. The train cars, for example, did not involve hocus pocus. They were representative of difficulties which have truncated my life. This could be the same. One over there and the other over there. Remember that shit? The situation on this beach is enough to render me scared and I don’t know which way to turn. Julia is not helping. I will say that curiosity may eventually cause me to toss caution to the wind and simply pick one. Eventually, anyway. Right now I like the quiet and need more of it in order to relax enough for further analysis. Julia forced me to face the most difficult part of my life and I ended up destroying it. But... Did I? Did anything really happen? That situation was created by her, meaning the truth is that none of it existed outside my head. And the second occasion... Fuck, she had me facing all sorts of shit that I really wanted to suppress (or make altogether disappear). I know in my heart of hearts that Julia is here to help, but her methods scare the hell out of me. Bottom line, that is the main reason I hesitate right now. I am afraid because I know there is going to be trouble whichever way I decide to go. Two doors... One leads to damage and the other to difficulty. Or maybe the other way around. Get it? I am afraid. At some point, I know she will force me to pick an opening and begin to explore. The first passenger car placed me toe to toe with the man who was that boy, yet the entire scene was focused upon one of two shit situations. I really don’t want to get into the other. ‘Make a decision.’ God damn shit fuck, anyway. Why does she have to do that? Her words are bringing me all the way back to the locomotive ride and the power I felt at the controls. That power was stripped away at hearing her first question. Ugh. 0906. Curious... I was watching a scene between Christopher and JT as they worked in the gym. I remember my friend Mel way back during high school and his desire to be a competing weightlifter. He instructed me from time to time on proper techniques and such, one of which was hand positioning while pressing on the bench. He never wrapped his thumbs around the bar because doing so transferred some of the energy off the palm and cause hands to bend slightly. Moreover, without the thumbs grasping the bar, one is forced to balance even more than the alternative, thus yielding better results overall. Cut to a short time later in life – just after high school, in fact – while I attended motor transport school in the Marine Corps. The same lesson (or very similar, at least) applied to the thumbs on the steering wheel. No part of the hands or arms was supposed to enter the inner ‘circle’ because a violent alteration at the front wheels could break the driver’s thumb(s). I never unlearned those lessons and still drive with my thumbs on the outside of the steering wheel to this very day. The weightlifting discussion was merely the beginning, whereas the military seldom allows forgetting lessons and orders no matter a person’s age. My hand positioning while driving is now ingrained; an instinct. Very interesting. Anyway... 0915. One door or the other? I don’t know. I am afraid. 'Do you know what you have to do?' Shut up. I have to get away from this crap for a while because all of the deep thinking is beginning to bother my insides. The process of learning can be very uncomfortable, for sure, and dealing with what Julia has thrown at me in the past was less than fun to say the least. Sooner or later I will pick one door or the other and then walk. I know it. I just don’t want to do it right now. The time is now 1050 and the daily routine has been finished along with two loads of laundry. I’ve been contemplating a reorganization of the socket drawer in my toolbox, but right now I need to relax for a little while before tackling anything else. I’d also like to trim one of the rose bushes in the backyard prior to sending the garbage carts to the curb tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get to that crap at some point. I have not been able to get the doors out of my head, nor can I cease Julia’s words. None of this is surprising. Holy Jesus fucking hell in a black dress is Jamie ever beautiful. While working in the garage (laundry), the fifth show kept me company and I had to deal with all manner of carnal thoughts regarding Jolene and her incredible form, some of which is similar to Julia’s shape. But? Lo and behold... Once I saw Jamie and her huge eyes, all of that melted away like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Jamie is the highest echelon of my loving feelings. There is simply no getting around that one anymore. I love her so much that it hurts. Marvelous. Fiction over reality, every fucking time. Reality cannot compare. I wish I had a coin or some other device to make the choice for me. An arbitrary decision is often helpful when one becomes undecided. Maybe. I don’t know. I keep thinking of the King novel involving similar passages, yet on that beach there were threatening creatures in every direction. I am alone here. Well, alone aside from Julia’s commanding voice. I don’t want to walk through one of the doors and end up in the desert again. Remember? Those little scorpions with headphones? There were entirely too many mysteries in that place, and even more in the hotel. My upbringing and subsequent years encapsulated within the gaming culture have really taken their toll. Sunday morning, later than I would prefer, and I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start. Yesterday was one of the most upsetting, discouraging days in memory. I should honestly describe all that took place in a separate entry, although whomever may or may not be following this content is not important to me, so there it is. I don’t care. And understand that there are a few key details which must remain absent, lest I allow my feelings to create more troubling situations in my life that I am capable of handling. Just trust me... Much of what I could say is very bad. Anyway, this morning I had to run over the hill to pick up some prescriptions, and due to being there so early, I ended up having to kill twenty minutes or so. I took a cruise up and down the Real and reminisced about old restaurants, road trips and both combined. That’s one of those aspects of travel that I have always loved... Finding new and interesting places to dine. I made it back here to finish the coffee and ponder the ways of the world. The doors are going to have to take a pause for a little while. I have a head full of breasts and restaurants. I was in a position to gaze nearly to my heart’s content yesterday, and did just that. Now I have to deal with the memory. Today is garbage day, plus the usual crap. None of it will take very long, though, because once again we skipped dinner. I won’t be doing that again for a very long time. Shit went sideways inside my head last night, meaning I need to think about everything today and relax. Nothing terrible transpired, of course, but some of the banter has me considering remaining quieter than I have been in the past. The housework today will help, as will my typical maximization of the trash carts. I will need to get a few things done soon; perhaps when I am finished with my coffee. The doors will return at some point if I can stop picturing her chest moving around as if it had its own life. Jesus fucking Christ, anyway. Wow, did I ever see a ton. WAY too much. 1030. Jamie is on the screen and right now she doesn’t matter as much as most days because of yesterday. I can’t really talk about it. Not good. I have emotions swirling inside that I will have to control at some point or I’ll be completely useless today. I guess all I can do is try. I don’t like feeling this way, either. It happens more and more often lately and has me worried for the future. Monday. I still see her standing nearby with a nonexistent midsection below two large globes that I desperately needed to intimately know. Right there... All slenderness apparent. God damn it anyway. My feelings have to be locked up tight. No one can know because they will not understand. Yesterday I mentioned that I don’t like feeling as if I can’t accomplish anything. Such a mood is the result of both physical problems and the realization that I no longer have the power or ability to affect change in my life. Throw in a bit of knowledge that everything I need in the world is gone, and you can see how the combination can put me on my ass for hours. This morning I do not share that same mood because a much more difficult realization has been creeping into my existence more and more as the days pass, and that is the idea that my life is already over. Whatever I’ve accomplished and/or enjoyed in the past is gone now, never to return. Both I and the world at large are simply too different. Each day that goes by brings me further from reality and real people and closer to dreaming of impossible situations; seemingly the only way for me to find the comfort and understanding that I need in order to survive. Much of the time I feel paralyzed because I know in advance that no matter what I can do, after the fact I’ll end up exactly the same (if not worse). There cannot be improvement any longer. This is the ‘life that cried wolf’, as it were. It is over and has been for quite some time. I doubt anything significant or even slightly noteworthy will take place today. Just the usual. I have to return to concentrating upon the two doors. 0809. The early business is out of the way and I have a head start on the routine for posterity. Julia’s voice, although lovely, has not left my head for days. ‘Ashamed’. Yeah, I guess. I don’t like to use those words to describe myself because I already feel bad enough about this current situation. Do I know what I have to do? Not a fucking clue. I thought I took care of that question on the first occasion, though the truth is I did what I did out of necessity and my own desire to destroy the problem. That may not have been Julia’s intention. The second time? I don’t know that one, either. We blew up the hotel. I killed a dragon. I spoke with the handsome bartender. I was chased. There were entirely too many facets to that shit to recall what may have been the main point. The second passenger car was there, as well, so perhaps her wish was for me to face myself through those problems identified by each woman with whom I spoke. They were physical representations of issues with which I’ve dealt for decades. Moreover, dealing with them was difficult and forced me to see what others go through trying to deal with me. I hated every second of that fucking place and still don’t know if Julia’s intention was for me to dissect the way I life my life and the way it relates to those around me. I still don’t fucking know. This process is going to take some time, I guess. Oh, God... There she is again. Hold me, Jamie. Please hold me. Nope. Not real... Like everything else I need. The time is now 0854. I’ll get to the rest of my routine when the coffee is gone. I wish there was a pair of ears available right now. My head is all wrapped around what I’ve seen, and the daydreaming is driving me insane. No one is listening, nor will anyone darken my doorstep. I sure could use a companion if I am going to venture through one of the doorways. Fuck. Alone, as always. Julia would not be my first choice, though. Maybe Julie or Jaime. This is one of those mornings. I can’t talk about it. Which way? Left or right? Or do I just walk away and take a stroll down the beach? I don’t know what to do here. This shit has me worried that either direction may land me in a heap of trouble again. The gunman chased me all over the fucking place and I really don’t need anything like that right now. I have enough difficulty just sitting here trying to think. There you go... Wanna talk about mixing things up a bit? I am sitting at my computer but also standing on a beach. Are the doors in my head? Julia is in there, for sure. She won’t leave. And speaking of that slender beauty... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Shit. Leave me alone, please. I have to do something with this situation or I fear I’ll be wandering out here for the rest of my life. That does not sound appealing. Fear has prevented me from taking even small chances in order to attempt to gain something wonderful and very rewarding, and right now fear is keeping me away from the doorways. Could there be anything good inside? Or... On the other side? Is there an ‘other’ side? Not knowing what might await my presence is making me crazy. Julia is not helping, either. She’s obviously not happy with the way I’ve been living these last few years, and I honestly cannot disagree. I don’t need her criticizing me, either, but there has never been much choice in the matter because she seems to know everything. She knows me, for sure. One or the other? Will my choice matter? I have too many fucking questions right now. 0914. I could end up in the hotel or on a train. Maybe a huge locomotive like last time, all six-thousand horses apparent. At least I felt a measure of power at those controls. Sitting in this chair – as well as standing on the beach under a sun that has not moved at all – I feel completely powerless in life. I have to try embracing the idea that the two journeys awaiting my presence could actually be positive learning experiences rather than only doom. I guess fearing everything just pushes me toward the possibility of doom rather than something good. The last thing I want right now is to be forced into facing the past again. If I were to walk through one or the other and end up in a fucking passenger car, my head would have one hell of a time dealing with it. The first occasion was very slow to develop, whereas the doors could mean an instant change. I don’t know if I can handle anything of the sort these days. I am so fragile that it’s not even a little funny. I am weak. One or the other? ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Shut up, damn it.’ ‘I am waiting for you.’ Finally! At least I now know that Julia is somewhere out there and I will probably see her again. This may be the push I need to make a decision. Maybe. I am still scared to death, though. I really am. Not only have I just lived through years of feeling powerless, fearful and ineffective in life, but each day shows me that my ability to lift myself out of the depression and find a positive direction has been greatly diminished. When I succeed, it is minor as compared to who I was years ago. I could walk through one of the doors and see Julia standing there, meaning I would immediately fall into her arms like last time (if she wants me at all). That could help for a time. I don’t fucking know. Shit. I don’t like this situation very much. Some mysteries are exciting and compelling; this one is scaring the hell out of me. On the chair and on the beach. The sun is unmoving. I can already tell this world is not right somehow, much like the fucking hotel. At least there are no scorpions or snow this time. And? I wonder what happens if I just remain here and avoid both doorways. Will I be here forever? Part of me? No answers. Only questions. 1025. I am apprehensive, yet cannot avoid dreaming that perhaps Jaime is in there somewhere. I could use her loving manner right about now (like almost every fucking day). Could she be waiting to help guide me through more shit? Another adventure that nearly takes my life? I mean... Jesus. How many times did I die last time? How many times did Julie die? Jaime is a machine. No worries there. God damn do I need her at this moment. Bad. I am in horrible shape overall, meaning anything positive – like caring pairs of ears and arms – could push me to enter a doorway. I just don’t know, though. I don’t fucking know if I will be worse off for the decision. I’ve been fighting to suppress my feelings all morning, and the notion of one or more of those women being just beyond the openings is not helping. None of it is or was real. Is this real? Am I standing here dreaming of some loving, caring understanding while I simultaneously sit at my fucking table almost completely bereft of hope? My mind is stretching, but the directions may not necessarily be positive. I’ve done little to help myself in recent years. Something has to happen or I’ll end up staring at two options forever. I must decide and go, period. My daily routine is finished save for the dishes drip-drying. I have to do a load of dry cleaning and some spots on the wood floor need attention. Other than those items, the rest of the day is pretty much going to operate according to my mood or whims. Daydreaming about that girl since Saturday is hurting me deeply; right there but so far out of reach. Impossible, really. She is fucking impossible to attain or even be close to me. Impossible, and I still cannot state the reasons. Everything hurts me and there is very little left to help. I need this glass of whiskey to do its job this morning. I really do. Nothing else can suppress and derail so much Goddamned desire. I don’t understand why my situation has become so terrible. Maybe there are a few reasons, but sitting here in the chair and standing on the beach means I have to find the strength to both overcome the desire and make a choice as to which way I should go. I often state that I have never felt so down. That fact seems to be worsening because right now I cannot recall ever feeling worse. It’s everything... The connections which have all disappeared for one reason or another, the mass of desire that hits me like a wrecking ball every fucking morning, and the emptiness that fills me at this very moment as well as appearing to fill my future. If I knew the doors could help, I’d already be off this beach. The sun still has not moved. Nine days of this have passed and I am still completely fucked in the head. Maybe I should throw more stuff in the trash. Doing so sometimes helps. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my love.’ Fuck. I wish I could shut her up, but at the same time I do understand. At least if I venture through an opening there is a strong possibility that I will appear on the deck plates of a massive locomotive, meaning I could flex such power and feel a tiny bit more in control of things. I just don’t know. The other side could also be a deserted wasteland of heat and dust, much like the negative material plane. What the fuck did I learn while there besides knowing that scorpions can wear headphones? Will I see Julie lying in the bathroom all covered in blood? Will I see that man again? I killed him, but in those worlds, nothing is certain or permanent, methinks. Anything could be awaiting my arrival. I need help but am too scared to take the steps. The beach is peaceful for the time being. At least I believe Julia is there, but which way? Maybe Julia will allow me to gaze at her lines. I’ve seen them before, but that was many years ago. She was very kind and understood because she was created in my head. Think about that one for a minute... I conjured her out of thin air like some gorgeous apparition, spent time with her, and now she is waiting for me on the other side of one of the doors. I am standing between them and sitting here typing the words at the same time. Isn’t that splendid? I am so heeled over that the mainmast is about to get wet. My life is simple, yet complicated. I have to do something before further losing my mind. The spacers for the compensating sprocket on the motorcycle arrived a few minutes ago. Hopefully I can build the primary drive and align everything for the last time. I suppose I can tackle the dry cleaning while out there. That way I can keep an eye on the timer and pull the clothes out before they begin to wrinkle. Hmm... Bike work and dry cleaning. Both can distract me for a while, yet neither can truly help. Like Tony said, ‘It’s all just a series of distractions before you die’. I cannot disagree. Something has to happen before I walk away from this computer, though. Something important and potentially dangerous. I must decide and move. Adriana is wearing that bra that seems to have twin straps on each side. I don’t know what that means, but when I see her I feel love as if she was my sister. This has nothing to do with anything. Sometimes comments step across the keyboard when I am trying to gather my thoughts. Ugh. Whatever. Pick one, dipshit. Pick one and live through the consequences. Which? They are identical. Julia said she has been waiting for me. Will she be on the other side of whichever I choose? I’m scared. I need her. I need a lot of things right now. I need to know as much as I need to understand myself. I just fucking need to know. The time has come. To the left with my heart in my throat. Left. Take a step, idiot. Take a fucking step. Into the opening I go..."
June 12th 2023 11:07am pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Two Doors
read ( words)
"Perhaps all I really need is for those ears to listen and then tell me why I am still alive. The rest may be tertiary. Happiness is relative. Fulfillment might be nothing more than a myth. I will probably never know the truth. 0906. Will today be THE day? Does she understand? No answers. I see a door out of this shit, though. This is how it happens... The morning became dire due to memories, a disastrous situation began to develop, and then everything malfunctioned leaving me an angry pile of discontent. This is not good and it happens all too often. I’ve seen, yet still cannot understand how such situations have come to pass, but I’ll tell you one thing, too much more of this feeling and I’ll fix it the only way I know how. I have the tools. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again... This is how I have developed due to the actions of other people. Unfair? No, I’ve gone over that philosophy too much already. There is no fair or unfair, there is only misery. Carmela often has duck lips. So fucking cute. Her talent far outweighs the beauty, though. Far. Whatever. Thank the maker I am an alcoholic or all of this would be too heavy. That type of thinking is dead wrong, but it is all I have left. I never thought I would be seeing the world this way after all these years. The future used to be wide-open. Now it is black. What a fucking depressing situation this is to be considering where I have been versus where I seem to be headed. Blackness. Buffer stop. At the end of one story, I died on the rails, but when writing that damaging tale, I had no idea it was to become a prophecy. Rails do not bend unless under the weight of the train, and then only downward. Turns? Nope. 1021. Half of the routine is finished. I need to keep the house fairly quiet right now. I also need to work on extracting some imagery from my brain this morning. The more I dwell, the worse I feel, yet at the same time I have a hell of a time trying to find enough motivation to fucking move at all. Ah... There is Jojo again, all lanky and sensitive. That’s the most important part... Her sensitivity. It is exuded through her eyes and tells me that despite the fact that the woman is a fictional character, I need the same type of understanding. She is wonderful. A touch goofy, but wonderful. And holy fuck is that woman tall. Sometimes she reminds me of Fiona or Paulie’s goomar, Michelle. Very sweet and kind all the time. Ugh. What the fuck was I saying before the flaming redhead appeared? Ah... I don’t give a fuck about anything these days. I am going through the motions, nothing more. I have been affected too much. Routed. Squished. Fucked over. I’ll get to the rest of my shit when I feel good and ready. On the upside, the combination of alcohol and the passage of time have all but eliminated my feelings of desire. This is the point in the day when desire turns to anger. Too bad I am nothing more than a tiny person with zero impact upon anything. Tiny. All I have is a keyboard and some web storage. Maybe I should save time and simply drink myself to death. Give me a reason to do otherwise. Go for it. 1106. My flex sockets arrived and they are in excellent shape. The tool array continues to grow. I still have yet to move further with my housework today because of the quiet. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. My schedule is up to me, anyway, so there is no reason for concern. By contrast, the other aspects of my existence are cause for much concern. Those who know me personally should be worried. The only reason I am sitting here at this very moment is the benefit of those little enjoyments of which I’ve spoken on many occasions. When they fail to lift me from the din, there will be no reason to do anything. That means I’ll pull the trigger. I have never felt so insignificant or depressed. Not good. Thankfully, the alcohol has again helped to suppress the mass of physical desire I feel each day. Now all I have to do is live through to evening time. If doing so helps me to feel accomplished in any way, I will make it to tomorrow. I am trying to avoid looking at the door. My preponderance for OCD presses me to ensure the glass of whiskey is always resting squarely on the coaster. That is a little funny. Some aluminum and stainless tubing will be arriving via UPS today. I plan to thread one of the lengths so the adjustment screws on the axles of my truck can be replaced with parts that encapsulate the lines from the steering block rather than just relying upon friction to stay in place when the steering moves one way or the other. I’ve been wanting to solidify the system since last fall when I operated the truck. The process of working on my project helps push away so many damaging feelings that it is almost worthwhile. The downside is that once the steering has been completed to my satisfaction, the entire machine will return to its display case and sit there until I have another idea for improvement. I have no illusions that the truck will ever be completed. I only work on it from time to time in order to forget the rest of my issues. The sum of mental and emotional distress cannot be fully repaired by a hobby, no matter how complex. Distraction is only temporary. Everything returns. I am unhappy and very angry. Nothing in reality can fix both. 1426. Out of gas, both literally and figuratively. I finished the kitchen, had some lunch, and then worked in the garage a bit. Mostly I straightened my tools and work area. I also rolled one bike off the lift and parked it inside so the other one can be returned there for further work. At one point I was tempted to cruise the other neighbor’s bike around the block, too. Yes, I was tempted, but within minutes I was reduced by the prospect like everything else requiring risk. Fear took over before I could even start the engine. Splendid. I haven’t been on two wheels for more than twenty years, and I suppose the self-preservation instinct kicked in before I could take a ride. Moreover, the bike does not belong to me, meaning if anything goes wrong, I am responsible. Maybe I’m too old for fun anymore. I’ll be driving to the bar in about half an hour to catch up with my friend. After all this patio cover bullshit, I’m beginning to believe that there are very few who either take me seriously or care about me at all. Not good. I am so fucking lost. At least I already know that I’ll be pleasantly greeted when I arrive at the bar. That never changes. Right now I feel more like sleeping than driving anywhere. Ugh. Yesterday was not different. The day is now Saturday and I am sitting here without reason yet again. There was a woman in denim shorts shooting pool at the bar last night. At one point she bent over the table with straight legs and I saw symmetrical lines for a moment. The sight would have been nicer if she hadn’t been such a flamboyant type. Slender, too. My partner noticed and stated that the image was incorrect because the shorts were not the ‘torn’ type. Heh. Anyway, aside from seeing her lines a bit, nothing exciting took place over there. Just some conversation. As for being out of the house for a little while, I could honestly take it or leave it. No caring. The day moved along as it did and none of it matters. The morning was key. The French girl is on the screen again. Damn. What I wouldn’t give to... And then AJ and Devin, the latter being a sweet girl I wanted to jump for years. He was rather an idiot, I must say. Anyway, today won’t amount to much because I don’t care. My brain keeps returning to yesterday and I just can’t be positive or happy after such malfunctions and other bullshit. I can’t. I’ll have to embrace the little pleasures. You know, the simple stuff. I have nothing else. I am losing a little bit of direction each day. Soon I will have none. And the French girl again, super-tall and gorgeous. I think she’s growing on me. Where was I? Ah... Today. My routine will be simple, but beyond that, I just don’t know. So far this morning, I feel very down and concerned about the future. I hope this doesn’t reach the point of interrupting my work too much. I really don’t want to completely lose my way. Not now. I need some fucking ears, although that idea also brings up issues. If I speak, the words are out forever. I can’t bring them back, nor will I have any control over the situation. None. If I attempt such a move and later decide it was a mistake, I will not be able to deal with the consequences. The idea seems wonderful at times because I’ve been bottled up for so long that I believe relief would wash over me very quickly.
I had a short dream of her again, and that makes the fifth damaging dream so far. Fifth. I can’t go into what I saw, though. The information is far too sensitive for the public domain. No, not intimate; just touchy. The point is my subconscious continues to manufacture scenarios in which she and I are somehow connected. Not good. I am still hung up on her for whatever reason. Of course, one possibility is due to the girl being unattainable. Sometimes that feeling can drive a person to desire the other even more. I don’t know. Anyway, another dream and one more vision. Splendid. I am beginning to wonder how many times I can sit here and say the same things (without really speaking) with different words. Eventually, I will run out of methods and have nothing to do here. I stopped trying to describe the forms I see, as well. I mentioned the woman by the pool table, yet there were no real issues driven by that situation. The others? I don’t see any point in going on about someone because she will disappear and another will come along. That will never end. But to sit here and attempt to convey what I feel during those moments is fucking ridiculous. I’ve gone over that road so many times that the pavement is sinking. As for the rest, well... I don’t know what the fuck else to do in this life. Projects? I can’t get myself to care enough because nothing aside from this exposition feels necessary or even interesting. I like to type, as well. I don’t know why. Honestly, I don’t know much of anything these days. All of my technical knowledge only helps others. My emotional intelligence seems to be waning and is much more important than anything else. I don’t believe mine developed very well over time, and combined with the way I feel these days, the conclusion is that I will never be able to fully connect with anyone. I am a mess, and that could be the main reason for being compelled to continue this shit. And then there is the typing... I love typing. Ugh. I don’t know what to do. The shit from yesterday morning keeps returning whenever I am not paying attention to anything. The issue just floats into my brain and causes a little drop due to knowing that there is only one way to fully understand and/or care for such a problem. Unfortunately, I do not see such a possibility in the future. I am far too disconnected now, and improvement of the situation would require something wholly miraculous. I am worried and scared of this. 0903. The coffee has not been very exciting this morning. But Oksana’s shoulders are an entirely different story. I could lick them all day long. Anyway, I suppose I’ll rise soon and take care of a few things. I am not running at a hundred percent right now but that will change in a little while. Sitting here is not good for ambition. There is always something to be cleaned or reworked. I’ll get away from this machine in a few minutes. 1024. Maybe not yet. My head is so fucked up that I am surprised to accomplish anything these days. Much of it is for distracting myself from the current condition, though. Nothing more. I can’t really get myself to care about anything. Maybe it’s time to thin some possessions again. I’ve been meaning to create space lately, yet not much has been done. I’ll have to gather all of the clothes and other items for donation because they will pick up everything once I schedule a date. That’s really nice. I can’t really do anything about the ever-increasing food, though. I usually just find ways of storing it until the holidays when the scouts run a drive. They also pick up here. If I can move away from this table and begin the housework, perhaps I’ll feel better and be able to suppress the issues again. Well, enough to make it through one day, anyway. That’s all I can ask anymore. Ugh. I need understanding ears. They may not exist. There was a chance some years ago, but like everything else that feels good, it went away. Now everything feels bad. Sunday, the fourth of June. What about yesterday? Did she understand? Eh... She wasn’t there. I did the bare minimum and relaxed. I will say that from some angles, Valentina does display pretty big fucking eyes, but the underlying issues I’ve had with the way she speaks always ruins any appreciation before it goes too far. Something is wrong there, I believe. Anyway, not much went on yesterday and I don’t care. She wasn’t there, the understanding flew away again, and there were moments of becoming so disillusioned with everything that I stood still not knowing which way to turn. Not a really good day. The morning went south (like almost every day) and I couldn’t pull myself out of the din during the afternoon or evening. I have to remedy the situation today or I’ll lose my shit again. 0706. I have to break out the laptop today for editing an image that is to be included in a new shirt design. I have different software on this machine which is new and quite different, so I have to use the older program if I want to finish the detailed work in a reasonable amount of time. Once I am satisfied with the image, I’ll probably integrate the design and have the shirts printed. I also have laundry, dry cleaning and the usual Sunday business that will kick off in roughly two hours. I haven’t seen her lately, nor have I seen much of anything else, and I believe the lack of visions has caused similar distress to when I see too much. Does that make sense? The whole thing is similar, yet different. I miss her, and I miss dreaming that she can make everything okay. The only other dream girl who removed the difficulty from my life was Jamie, and that was merely a one time thing. Does she understand? Will today be the day when everything changes? I need to see her, but at the same time, I already know that no good will be served if she enters my eyes. I’ll just fall all over myself with goo goo ga ga again and come out the other side worse off than I am right now. A dream early this morning had me all excited that good things were coming to my life. I had found an item which belonged to either a theme park or film studio which they had been seeking for a long time. It was a proprietary model of a future project that had disappeared. How did I find it? I have no idea, but I brought it to the right people because they appreciated the effort and honestly enough to offer me a job within their secret studio. I was so excited that I could barely think straight. Some of my problems were disappearing due to seeing a future for myself. When I awakened, my brain descended into the same fucking soup and I lost all those good feelings. Nothing good like that is going to happen in my life. Nothing. I already know. The dreams only exacerbate everything that troubles me these days. I’ll just have to forget about it, rather like trying to be happy at all. That thing I mentioned on a few occasions has been coming to mind more and more often lately. The other one from last year, too. One is a problem and the other is quite the opposite... It is a wondrous, dreamy situation over which I have little control (it is gone now, anyway) and something which requires help in order for me to understand. That is just not going to happen, unfortunately, and the biggest downside to such a situation is that it will never come to pass again. Another facet of life gone for good. Erase one of the marks next to that list of reasons why I am still breathing. Believe it or not, the issue which arose last year is likely something that can be dealt with fairly easily. There is no need for understanding with regard to that one, either, but something else is necessary; also completely gone, most likely forever. This is probably the largest clambake imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am right now. Coffee. Does she understand? Can she, ever? Is anything out there? So lost... I think today will be good for ridding myself of a few items. Things become lost or otherwise buried within spaces that I don’t explore very often, and lately I’ve been feeling that organization will somehow help me to relax and think. I don’t know why, but the process has worked in the past. I don’t really have other avenues right now. Today should be full of work. I need to keep busy and try to push away my feelings again. No options; no hope; little of anything else.
I don’t know what to fuckin’ write here anymore. The same shit keeps coming to my fingers and then the ideas go nowhere. Housework? Projects? None of that shit matters. The deeper feelings and problems continue to plague me, yet no matter how driven I become, the words end up masked to the point of conveying almost nothing. This is not good. I still sit here on and off every day because I have no other way of approaching my life anymore. This will continue until I find a different path or set of rails. The dream from early this morning really screwed me. I can’t have such wonder and hope wash over me only to watch them both disappear in an instant. Not good. In some ways, this latest blissful yet fictional situation rivals the one born of the damaging dreams. I don’t seem to have nightmares anymore. Whenever I am visited by something while sleeping, I eventually awaken to reality and am reminded that my life is going nowhere good. Splendid. Clambake. Fucked. Last cup of coffee. I’ll tend to my housework soon. The time is only 0830 and I am already feeling antsy. I also feel like a complete failure. No direction. 1008. Thankfully, I found some inner part of me that needed to get going. So, most of my daily routine is now finished, the second load of laundry is drying, and I straightened the three main living areas. I also poured a nice, big glass of depressant for reasons of good form. I am trying to suppress the damage from earlier. I lived through a mass of discontent, dissatisfaction and fear, and was eventually driven to malfunction and disaster. Yep... Again with the fucking disaster. The booze might help me come to terms with such a fucked up situation. I don’t know what to do anymore. This is not good. I am on my way down. There is a door below me, waiting. I don’t understand why the door does not seem to be attached to anything. I can see around the top and both sides, the ground below my feet notwithstanding. If I can see to the other side, why would I go through it? Will something change? This is not some King novel, either. It is my own mystery, and one I feel compelled to solve. This situation is rather like the way I perceive time on the clock and the manner in which a circular clock resembles a path for the hands. Moreover, the calendar has its own path, one of squares typically laid out from left to right. I see it and think of hopscotch or some other journey leading from one place to another involving a row of individual spaces. Regarding the months and seasons, I often see an enormous circle – much like the clock – floating in space. The current month is June, and picturing the rest of the year feels like a clockwise journey around to the opposite side, December. The days are squares, the months being made up of rows of the same. The clock is a circle. The calendar in my head is a huge circle. My life is often described as a circle, and then equated to rails going nowhere aside from leading to where I have already been. All of this pushes me to feel confusion regarding a door. And don’t give me a blast of shit because of the title being pushed off for hundreds of lines before I’ve addressed it. Shut up. I am not a mentally healthy person, nor is any of this easy. 0817 on Monday morning. Is she on the other side of the door? Waiting? Maybe waiting for me? I have lots of questions. I can see over there and nothing is apparent. I don’t even see the rails. I’ve been going in circles for a very long time, so the door could be a way to switch paths, perhaps. I have the little circle and the bigger one representing the way of the world through the calendar year. Two circles. Up to this point in time I have never seen a door. There were bags, though. Remember? Bags of shit so heavy that there was no forgetting the past. Bags. Well, now there is a door. I don’t know if I want to learn what it represents or not. This could be the beginning of an even worse part of life. It could also mean my end. The only glimmer I see right now is the possibility of her on the other side waiting to tell me everything will be ok. Not likely, though. That is not fucking likely. Many times I’ve stated that there is to be no good for me in this life, and the door does not negate such a fact. I wish she was there. I really do. I fucking need something. Last of the coffee. Gangsters again, for whatever reason. Familiarity, perhaps. I don’t know what else to do, but I will say that I can’t have any media playing over there which requires my full attention while typing. As it is now, I pause the stream quite often. Whatever. This is the first day in over two weeks which I have all to myself. The quiet time may help me understand the door. I can only hope. It is very strange, much like the cryptic dreams I had which frightened me to death. Maybe the other side of the door is another dimension? What does that mean? Or a different time? The past? I’ve been through those moments on the train, such as being forced to face something from years ago which haunts me every day, or seeing past scenes play out in excruciating detail. The door could also be nothing more than wishful thinking that my world can be changed in some way. Improved? I don’t know. I don’t want to approach the fucking thing. Part of me is recalling that hallway which was supposed to be some lesson. Remember the story? The gunman was shooting at me and I had very little time to understand the Goddamned portraits hanging along each wall. Ugh. I don’t need any more of that type of thing. I am going to try to understand this situation while I work around the house today. Plenty of time. Maybe the door leads to hell. Maybe it leads to her. Eh... Not likely. 1104. I finished the daily routine, and during my sweeping I noticed police cars in the court nearby. Oh, boy. My neighbor called me yesterday afternoon and said he saw police over there in force, as in two cities’ worth of patrols with guns drawn. Yikes. Supporting that, when the officers walked back to their cars this morning, one was carrying a riot gun. I don’t know what’s been happening over there, but I will say that I hope everyone is alright. This neighborhood is typically very quiet except for the fourth of July. Heh. Anyway, my regular stuff is out of the way. I’ve been considering the door, too. I still don’t know what to think, but regardless of my perception, it is there before me. Tuesday. Doors in my sleep. The time is only 0654 and I am already anticipating having the early business out of the way so I can sit here and think. Something has to happen – and soon – if I am to remain alright. There was a massive issue yesterday in which I had to avoid staring at someone. Huge problem. I glanced because of the amazing nature of the sight, but then turned and pulled focus elsewhere for reasons of good form. I can’t describe the problem here, but I will say that her pants were almost shiny black and appeared to be about as thin as possible without falling apart. The image stuck with me throughout the evening and into this morning, too. I remained in good form yesterday despite the incredibly strong pull at my senses and the deep need to grab her and run away. I do not know her, either, so remaining at a distance was a little easier than if we had been involved in polite conversation or the like. I stayed away. Those few seconds allowed me to see an uncompromising form, meaning I’ll be thinking about her for a while. The center seam alone was enough to send me into the ground at breakneck speed. But... I can’t talk about it. Break. Neck. I wish the other side of the door was the inside of her pants. Fuck it... Shoot me. I don’t fucking care anymore. I need her. More importantly, I need her to understand. Does she? Can she? Eh... 0805. The early business is out of the way and I got a head start on my routine. The coffee has been flowing like a two-bit whore this morning. I can’t get the image of her shape out of my fucking head, damn it. I need to stop dreaming of her and move along like a real grown-up type of person. This situation sucks out loud and right down to the ground. She is competing with the door and I really don’t need that this morning. Ugh. What could be on the other side? The hallway again? I don’t want to be forced into merging this topic with the fiction I wrote a few years ago. That will undoubtedly lead to visions of Jaime the machine and her ever-changing eye color. I loved her. Well... Love her. Maybe she is waiting for me on the other side? I am afraid. At least Jaime never pulled a knife on me. Remember that? Another unfinished parable.
I wish I hadn’t seen her yesterday. The sight has created a host of problems inside me ranging from the damaging dreams, on to the race girl and the festival last fall, and then straight to the way my feelings have changed in the past year. Over and over I see her walking and that fucking seam speaking to me like God himself. The image is so powerful right now that it has me questioning my entire life. ‘It’s a livin.’ ‘IT'S A WASTE OF LIFE.’ I am feeding the depression as I ponder the door situation. Maybe there is some kind of decision I need to make, or perhaps have already made which has placed me here in front of this gateway. I can’t be certain. The other side of the doorway could be as simple as making a change in the way I am living life. Something is there, no doubt. I can feel the power of the door, too. I can feel it as strongly as I feel desire for all those impossible parts of life. Knowing what is on the other side is a dire need at this point. I’ve been staring for days. The only change since yesterday at this time is a group of silhouettes off to my left that seem to have grown out of the water. The sand below immediately allowed me to localize the door as being next to a large body of water such as the ocean. I can smell the water, too. The gray silhouettes are out there at an undetermined distance and causing me to swing my head back and forth as if I’ve been attending a tennis match. I am trying to focus on the door and surrounding areas, yet those figures off to the left have begun to command a good portion of my attention. I don’t know whether to be scared or curious. And now I am feeling as if I’m being watched from beyond my peripheral vision. Far left; past the silhouettes. Turning... And there is another fucking door. The wind began to pick up yesterday morning and continues to gust even now. I watched the forecast and there was no mention of such gales. Unbelievable. I was awakened during the wee hours by our power line support cable repeatedly contacting the roof, which happens to be just above the master bedroom. I feel rested despite the noise, though. Not bad. Looking out the window right now, I see that the wind is still strong. Hopefully it doesn’t strengthen to the point of knocking out the power. I have batteries charging just in case. The only concern I ever have with regard to losing power is media, and I always have the option of using my phone coupled with the wireless MDRs. Both can charge off the power tool batteries, as well. I have to maintain my comfort regardless of the electricity situation. Without the familiarity of the media playing, my days would be completely fucked up. I am wholly dependent upon video programming. Whatever that makes me, I don’t care. My life has been pared down to very few operations of late. I need what I need and that is that. Nothing will change unless she darkens my doorstep with the understanding of which I have dreamed for decades. The mail just arrived. Nice. 1048. The necessities of my daily routine are finished. I need time to think. I just saw one of the two over whom I’ve been gushing. Her shorts were the very definition of such an article of clothing... Very ‘short’. Jesus. The only line was her sweatshirt which covered the lower end of the shorts and made it appear that she had nothing underneath the baggy top garment. God damn shit fuck, anyway. I have never wanted her so badly. Bouncing breasts. I am a basket case of the highest order right now. Rarely have I wished to see inside a woman’s clothing so fucking much. I need to see everything. I need to see her fucking lines and often feel that I will die without knowing. Fucking hell... This is so ridiculous that even I can’t believe it. I guess I’ll die anyway, but it would be nice to see everything before I am in a grave. Ah... My booze order is ready early. Maybe I’ll drive over there and pick it up today. The time consumption and distraction could be helpful right now. Life is moving along outside my window and I feel like no part of it whatsoever. I’ll get out there and drive. Wednesday, 0630. Coffee. Jamie is over there in all her fourth season glory. I love her. Someone else, too. And the other one. Never mind. There is too much shit in my head. I noticed the right rear tire on my car was low the other day. I topped it with the portable inflator and then took off for the wine store. Halfway home again and the warning light came on. Shit. I pulled into a parking lot less than a half mile from here to check, and sure enough it was back down to less than eight pounds. The inflator was ineffective, so I limped the car home. Now I have to pull the wheel and install the stupid space-saver so I can drive to the tire shop. Ugh. Whatever. At least I have the impact gun to make the process go a little faster. Once my morning moves along a bit further, I’ll take care of the car and head over the hill via surface streets to avoid the highway. I need my car in good shape because it represents the ability to take off whenever necessary for my peace of mind. I’ll work on the early business in a little while. The door is causing me to feel apprehension regarding everything. Even my daily routine is at risk right now because just below the surface of each simple thought is the idea that I am going to either destroy myself or be destroyed, and whatever is on the other side of that door represents the end of me. One way or another, I am feeling as if the end is near. Yesterday, each activity required tremendous effort, and I am speaking of anything that had been very simple or straightforward at one time. This downhill slide began some time ago and continues unimpeded regardless of my feelings or daily activities. I may be standing on level ground right now, but believe me... Enough grade is present to force me into realizing that my life is nearing its end. I can’t do anything without pausing out of concern, and that makes each new day a little more difficult than the last. I’d like to think that heading through the doorway could save me, but I am too smart for such delusions. I already know being saved through understanding is impossible. The salt air is not helping my concentration, either. The water is to the left, and way off in the opposite direction is some greenery. Everywhere else is sand and driftwood. 0747. The early business has been completed and I have hours to myself for whatever seems best. Conversely, the hours could leave me worse off than I am right now. There is no way to tell this early in the day. At some point I’ll have to pull the wheel off the car and head over to the shop. A bit later, I guess. The entire operation requires that I feel ambitious. Right now I have no idea whether or not I’ll feel like leaving the house. Or, I may not feel like doing anything at all. Time will tell. Those doors in front and behind are making me nervous. I hope there isn’t a clock ticking somewhere. This situation is starting to remind me of being on the train with the adorable little Julie. We blew it to smithereens, too. I don’t have explosives right now, either. I don’t possess much of anything, really. Ugh. I need to know the reason or reasons why these doors appeared and what may lie beyond each. I’m nervous, just like when I first entered that crazy, backward hotel a few years ago. The sand below my feet is warm, as is the sun above. Light cloud cover is present. As I said before, this is not some King novel, so I probably don’t need to worry about lobster creatures or anything else. This place seems deserted. Quiet, too. Maybe I should finish off the coffee and care for the car before continuing to worry about the fucking doors. One thing at a time, just like most weekdays. Stop. 1027 is what I see on the clock. The daily routine has been finished and the second wave of dishes is drip-drying to save water. I don’t think I’ll be going to the tire store because I need to remain home. After a little break, I’m going to return to the garage and straighten everything while seeking items to toss in the trash. Most of the storage out there has been overlooked and sitting idle for several years, meaning I can look around and create space. The bikes are idle, too. I don’t feel like furthering either project right now. The doors and my future are taking priority. I will say that the quiet time and space to think are fucking amazing today. I don’t always feel as such, but sometimes I can’t help but appreciate being home nearly all of the time.
I feel like the doorways are waiting, as if there is a limit to how long I can delay entering one of them. And I will admit that a part of me has been wishing to return to the wasteland of the negative material plane in the off chance that I will connect with Jaime again. Yep, the battery-powered machine goddess with eyes that change color and a knack for comforting me no matter how dire circumstances may become. I love that woman, real or not, and if you consider my penchant for conjuring impossible women with the power to save my life, such a fact is far from surprising. All those trips up and down the highway a few years ago yielded what seemed an endless search for something wonderful – much like the dream of Jaime – yet took a heavy toll on my mind. Now I am far worse off and further out of balance, believe it or not. I just switched off the video media in favor of the music of life. The compositions bring me back to the dark days of ten and eleven, as well as my time with the Raven and so many desperate feelings and dangerous situations that I fail to recall everything. When I hear certain tracks, my head quickly reverts to one of two moods: The first is suicide; the second being the forest mindset. Either is fine with me right now because I am having an increasingly difficult time caring about what may ensue if I were to disappear. In the case of suicide, I probably would not know, anyway, so the forest seems more appealing and far more demonstrative. The year of sixteen comes to mind, as well. I was pretty close to the final solution back then. Seventeen was not much better, either. Looking back and forth between one door and the other has been pressing me to consider that the two disparate mindsets mentioned above could be the respective results of stepping through one of them. I don’t know what to do, and such a thought is nowhere near surprising at this point in time. Is this situation a choice to live or die? One door for each? They appear to be exactly the same. And... If they truly lead in other directions, why can’t I see what is on the other side? Perhaps I watch too much science fiction. And now a voice... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ God damn fuck shit anyway. I don’t need Julia right now... Or do I? She was always so cryptic. God damn is this whiskey ever delicious. I have been confronted with doors in the past, both figurative and literal. The last literal door was a few years ago and I burned it to ash with my damaging personality and evil methods, and soon after, the ash was disregarded through even more damaging practices. Nothing can be done about that one, unfortunately, but at least there was a lesson involved which I haven’t forgotten. Some damage cannot be undone due to a combination of age and apathy. I am in a very destructive mood right now. I’ll have to rein in this shit, and soon, lest I lose my already precarious place in the world. I see 1114 on the clock but I could swear I’ve lived a thousand hours since rising from bed this morning. 0642 on Thursday morning with sunshine and coffee. I am planning to spend as much time as possible in front of this machine today. At some point I’ll be heading over the hill to have the tire repaired, but other than that bit of business and my usual stuff, I really don’t feel up to working too much. Something caught me upside the head last night and I can’t seem to shake the negative feelings. And I mean negative. I actually learned a very uncomfortable lesson through a phrase and was immediately taken aback. During the split-second it took for me to regain the facade, I realized there has been a very wrong situation in place for many years, and even after suspecting such feelings, I did not consider the sheer depth of everything until hearing such words. Now I don’t know what to think, but one certainty is that I have stepped back a touch in order to keep my eye on things a little more closely than I have in the past. Prior to what took place last night, the day had been quite productive. One bike was completed and is out of the garage and the other is back on the lift and ready for me to continue the project. I also straightened the garage somewhat and tossed a pile of crap into the trash. By the end of business hours, the day seemed pretty positive. Little did I know that a very specific type of information was going to hit me very hard and raise questions like never before. Now the die has been cast. Cooling. I have to consider the fact that the doors are here because of the way I’ve been treated in the past, or at least the reverse. This cannot be a coincidence. Death? Oh, and to add insult to injury, early this morning was a flash-dream of her running nearby in a tank top. I would say two seconds of visions before I awakened. Everything is piling atop everything else inside my brain. Almost time for the morning business. Done. Now I have the day to myself, good or bad as such a prospect may be. The doors are making me nervous. There is so much information inside me that I cannot convey here (or to another person, for sure) that I am hoping one of those doorways leads to the understanding and concern for which I’ve been searching for years. I need to speak with another person. I really do. There is so much fear inherent in the idea of actually letting go of some of this information that I wouldn’t be able to simply relax and just work through the process. Maybe one door leads to understanding and the other to doom. I don’t know. They are there, however... Staring back at me. Can I walk away and avoid both? I need help. Malfunction. I don’t know if I am going to the tire store today or not. I feel that remaining home might be best, but then again, I don’t like the idea that I can’t drive far. That feels like a restriction, something with which I have never dealt pleasantly. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my dear. Ashamed.’ ‘Damn it.’ ‘Relax. Think about the doors.’ Great. Just what I need right now... Julia’s returning to confuse the hell out of me. Maybe my feelings of late incited the doors’ appearance, or perhaps something in my mind finally snapped and conjured that beautiful woman a third time. I can hear her but not see. All I see is the seashore and two doorways. At least there are no rails right now. The last time I rode the rails was very painful and dredged up all sorts of images from both the near and far past. I really don’t want to live through that shit again. At some point I will have to make the decision to either walk through one of them or walk away. At this very moment, I have no idea what may be best for me. The time is now 0913 and my head continues to lean toward having the tire repaired and reinstalled. I don’t like feeling as if I am stuck here, although getting the hell out for a little while may help alleviate the morning difficulties and subsequent malfunction. I am the only person who can darken the two nearby doorsteps. 1053 and nothing around the house has been touched because I ventured to the tire store. Now I have to wait, possibly another couple of hours. I strolled down the Real to get some cigarettes because I didn't realize I'd be stuck here. Damn. On the upside, the repair will be finished and I don't have anything else pressing right now. The routine can wait. I need my car in good working order. The doors followed along. So did her voice. Sitting here really slams home the reality of my mass of free time these days. Even if I'm stuck all the way to 1330 (the outside estimate), it doesn't impact my day at all. The only difference is my work time becomes shifted to after lunch. I could sit here all fucking day and it wouldn't matter. Waiting in a situation like this is very unusual and forces me to look at the clock in a different light. The time is now 1110. I keep hearing her voice, yet the woman is nowhere to be found. The words are echoing, just like during that strange rail trip into a netherworld. Two, actually. I hope nothing of the like is in my future. Twice was plenty. I have to pause now.
Home again. 1449. My routine is finished after less than half an hour of work. Not bad. I also had a light snack so as to avoid messing up my appetite for dinner later. I was gone for more than four hours – time well-spent because of the importance of my car, naturally – and now that I am home I realize everything swirled inside me while out. Everything. When I took a walk south to the little market for cigarettes, a moment of pause took me for a few seconds. There was a girl tending to a small child in the back seat of a parallel parked car, and her lines were in full view for me as I passed. Yep, no matter what may be taking place in my sordid life, there will always be a vision to trip me up. I continued, of course, and eventually returned to the shop. I thought of the damaging dreams, the doors, Julia, all the shit from last year, and tying it all together was a pair of past experiences. You guessed it... The trains. And then? Not long before the work was completed, I ventured outside for a smoke and spied a train crossing a nearby street, all speedy and powerful. That was the train the Raven and I rode at the beginning of one of the worst days of my entire life. The memory was like the cherry perched atop a vast sundae of damage and regret. I am having a difficult time writing. Friday. I have to draw another line. No, not THAT type of line. More like a restriction. I discovered a problem last night, yet sitting here twelve hours later I still don’t know how it happened. It’s not a big deal, though, and only requires a small change in my behavior. Today is going to be ideal for finding insight because after all that shit yesterday, I will actually have this day to myself. I need not go anywhere. My head has to consider the impact of the doors and what they represent, plus I need to learn the reason why Julia seems upset with me. ‘Ashamed.’ Ok, so... I am sometimes ashamed due to aspects of the way my mind operates. But that is not to say that I feel badly toward myself all the time. She was very pointed with those words. Last year’s alteration to the way I think carries to this very second. There is no way she could know about all those dreams, though, is there? I don’t know. I have to figure this shit out. Oh, and the line. Yeah. Another fucking line. Great. The house must remain quiet today if I am to understand whatever kind of decision this seems to be. Well, I did mention simply walking away, too. I don’t know. Nothing seems to be changing; not the landscape, position of the sun in the sky, nothing, so perhaps I have all the time in the world to learn what I can. Again, I just don’t know. Her voice is something with which I’ve been familiar for years. She posed questions and offered little observations here and there with some sort of half-assed methodology, effectively leaving me to figure shit out mostly on my own. I needed her help sometimes, and so she helped. But the questions? I really don’t want to hear them these days. Her words are one thing, but the doorways (doors?) are entirely different. I already know she will not help me work out why they have appeared, so maybe I’ll just ignore her offhand comments and occasional rhetoric. Whatever else needs to be done today, I plan to spend a lot of time considering my current situation and will not allow myself to be pushed or pulled in any direction. I should have some hours alone prior to the evening. 1131. The doors (doorways?) are looming large here on the beach. I can feel them. All my work in the house is finished, but the inside of my head is still processing everything. That includes last night. What I did not remember is some discussion of family, something I do not generally enjoy because of the past. Well, I spilled the beans and now don’t know what to think. One possibility is that the doors may be related to dealing with the past, much like the trips I was forced to take on the beautiful trains. Remember the passenger cars? Those issues were never solved, so perhaps Julia has placed more puzzles in front of me in order to force my hand once again. I can’t be certain unless I take action, and the fear has been holding me back for days. Another idea is that her voice never stopped resonating and I simply blocked it. At least she loves me and would never cause me harm. Pain and discomfort, heartache, but not harm. Her motives were always driven by care. At some point I am going to have to choose. The way I feel today – despite accomplishing my housework while being rather weak – is leading me to need relaxation and quiet rather than some otherworldly adventure. Maybe I should put some space between myself and the doors for a while. Maybe. I honestly don’t know what to do, but physical comfort is at the top of my list today. The doorways (doors?) can loom all they want. Saturday morning. 0644. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday. I believe the other night was part of the problem as I recall one topic from the many conversations... Children. Somehow, I fell off the wagon of information and spilled a few key terms from the past, thus leaving myself in the same situation as if I had wished to confide in someone. I don’t believe there will be any trouble, though, because the late hour and condition of people mean much of what was said is already forgotten. One further point of this information is that each time I worry about what I’ve remembered, the emotional stability that has been so precariously balanced for the last two decades diminishes a bit more. Only so much more of such loss and I will be gone. To say that I am paranoid doesn’t even scratch the surface. Too many years of being disregarded, not taken seriously, and insulted have combined and left me no way out of feeling so frightened all the time, especially when something critical slips out. I regret it. Fear leads to anger, as many a book will tell you, when there can be no recourse. Hence? Me. Hopefully, the apprehension still boiling underneath the surface is for naught. I need to take care of the early business soon. Afterward, back to this machine. ‘Ashamed.’ Thanks, babe. I really needed to hear that crap. Leave me alone, please, and allow me time to figure this shit to its end. At some point I will probably simply enter one opening and learn of where it may lead. Which? I don’t have a clue because they are completely identical. What kind of decision could these doors represent? Or do they even require a decision? Maybe if I walk into one I will emerge from the other. No... That is too much ‘science fiction’ to be related to these situations. The train cars, for example, did not involve hocus pocus. They were representative of difficulties which have truncated my life. This could be the same. One over there and the other over there. Remember that shit? The situation on this beach is enough to render me scared and I don’t know which way to turn. Julia is not helping. I will say that curiosity may eventually cause me to toss caution to the wind and simply pick one. Eventually, anyway. Right now I like the quiet and need more of it in order to relax enough for further analysis. Julia forced me to face the most difficult part of my life and I ended up destroying it. But... Did I? Did anything really happen? That situation was created by her, meaning the truth is that none of it existed outside my head. And the second occasion... Fuck, she had me facing all sorts of shit that I really wanted to suppress (or make altogether disappear). I know in my heart of hearts that Julia is here to help, but her methods scare the hell out of me. Bottom line, that is the main reason I hesitate right now. I am afraid because I know there is going to be trouble whichever way I decide to go. Two doors... One leads to damage and the other to difficulty. Or maybe the other way around. Get it? I am afraid. At some point, I know she will force me to pick an opening and begin to explore. The first passenger car placed me toe to toe with the man who was that boy, yet the entire scene was focused upon one of two shit situations. I really don’t want to get into the other. ‘Make a decision.’ God damn shit fuck, anyway. Why does she have to do that? Her words are bringing me all the way back to the locomotive ride and the power I felt at the controls. That power was stripped away at hearing her first question. Ugh. 0906. Curious... I was watching a scene between Christopher and JT as they worked in the gym. I remember my friend Mel way back during high school and his desire to be a competing weightlifter. He instructed me from time to time on proper techniques and such, one of which was hand positioning while pressing on the bench. He never wrapped his thumbs around the bar because doing so transferred some of the energy off the palm and cause hands to bend slightly. Moreover, without the thumbs grasping the bar, one is forced to balance even more than the alternative, thus yielding better results overall. Cut to a short time later in life – just after high school, in fact – while I attended motor transport school in the Marine Corps. The same lesson (or very similar, at least) applied to the thumbs on the steering wheel. No part of the hands or arms was supposed to enter the inner ‘circle’ because a violent alteration at the front wheels could break the driver’s thumb(s). I never unlearned those lessons and still drive with my thumbs on the outside of the steering wheel to this very day. The weightlifting discussion was merely the beginning, whereas the military seldom allows forgetting lessons and orders no matter a person’s age. My hand positioning while driving is now ingrained; an instinct. Very interesting. Anyway... 0915. One door or the other? I don’t know. I am afraid. 'Do you know what you have to do?' Shut up.
I have to get away from this crap for a while because all of the deep thinking is beginning to bother my insides. The process of learning can be very uncomfortable, for sure, and dealing with what Julia has thrown at me in the past was less than fun to say the least. Sooner or later I will pick one door or the other and then walk. I know it. I just don’t want to do it right now. The time is now 1050 and the daily routine has been finished along with two loads of laundry. I’ve been contemplating a reorganization of the socket drawer in my toolbox, but right now I need to relax for a little while before tackling anything else. I’d also like to trim one of the rose bushes in the backyard prior to sending the garbage carts to the curb tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get to that crap at some point. I have not been able to get the doors out of my head, nor can I cease Julia’s words. None of this is surprising. Holy Jesus fucking hell in a black dress is Jamie ever beautiful. While working in the garage (laundry), the fifth show kept me company and I had to deal with all manner of carnal thoughts regarding Jolene and her incredible form, some of which is similar to Julia’s shape. But? Lo and behold... Once I saw Jamie and her huge eyes, all of that melted away like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Jamie is the highest echelon of my loving feelings. There is simply no getting around that one anymore. I love her so much that it hurts. Marvelous. Fiction over reality, every fucking time. Reality cannot compare. I wish I had a coin or some other device to make the choice for me. An arbitrary decision is often helpful when one becomes undecided. Maybe. I don’t know. I keep thinking of the King novel involving similar passages, yet on that beach there were threatening creatures in every direction. I am alone here. Well, alone aside from Julia’s commanding voice. I don’t want to walk through one of the doors and end up in the desert again. Remember? Those little scorpions with headphones? There were entirely too many mysteries in that place, and even more in the hotel. My upbringing and subsequent years encapsulated within the gaming culture have really taken their toll. Sunday morning, later than I would prefer, and I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start. Yesterday was one of the most upsetting, discouraging days in memory. I should honestly describe all that took place in a separate entry, although whomever may or may not be following this content is not important to me, so there it is. I don’t care. And understand that there are a few key details which must remain absent, lest I allow my feelings to create more troubling situations in my life that I am capable of handling. Just trust me... Much of what I could say is very bad. Anyway, this morning I had to run over the hill to pick up some prescriptions, and due to being there so early, I ended up having to kill twenty minutes or so. I took a cruise up and down the Real and reminisced about old restaurants, road trips and both combined. That’s one of those aspects of travel that I have always loved... Finding new and interesting places to dine. I made it back here to finish the coffee and ponder the ways of the world. The doors are going to have to take a pause for a little while. I have a head full of breasts and restaurants. I was in a position to gaze nearly to my heart’s content yesterday, and did just that. Now I have to deal with the memory. Today is garbage day, plus the usual crap. None of it will take very long, though, because once again we skipped dinner. I won’t be doing that again for a very long time. Shit went sideways inside my head last night, meaning I need to think about everything today and relax. Nothing terrible transpired, of course, but some of the banter has me considering remaining quieter than I have been in the past. The housework today will help, as will my typical maximization of the trash carts. I will need to get a few things done soon; perhaps when I am finished with my coffee. The doors will return at some point if I can stop picturing her chest moving around as if it had its own life. Jesus fucking Christ, anyway. Wow, did I ever see a ton. WAY too much. 1030. Jamie is on the screen and right now she doesn’t matter as much as most days because of yesterday. I can’t really talk about it. Not good. I have emotions swirling inside that I will have to control at some point or I’ll be completely useless today. I guess all I can do is try. I don’t like feeling this way, either. It happens more and more often lately and has me worried for the future. Monday. I still see her standing nearby with a nonexistent midsection below two large globes that I desperately needed to intimately know. Right there... All slenderness apparent. God damn it anyway. My feelings have to be locked up tight. No one can know because they will not understand. Yesterday I mentioned that I don’t like feeling as if I can’t accomplish anything. Such a mood is the result of both physical problems and the realization that I no longer have the power or ability to affect change in my life. Throw in a bit of knowledge that everything I need in the world is gone, and you can see how the combination can put me on my ass for hours. This morning I do not share that same mood because a much more difficult realization has been creeping into my existence more and more as the days pass, and that is the idea that my life is already over. Whatever I’ve accomplished and/or enjoyed in the past is gone now, never to return. Both I and the world at large are simply too different. Each day that goes by brings me further from reality and real people and closer to dreaming of impossible situations; seemingly the only way for me to find the comfort and understanding that I need in order to survive. Much of the time I feel paralyzed because I know in advance that no matter what I can do, after the fact I’ll end up exactly the same (if not worse). There cannot be improvement any longer. This is the ‘life that cried wolf’, as it were. It is over and has been for quite some time. I doubt anything significant or even slightly noteworthy will take place today. Just the usual. I have to return to concentrating upon the two doors. 0809. The early business is out of the way and I have a head start on the routine for posterity. Julia’s voice, although lovely, has not left my head for days. ‘Ashamed’. Yeah, I guess. I don’t like to use those words to describe myself because I already feel bad enough about this current situation. Do I know what I have to do? Not a fucking clue. I thought I took care of that question on the first occasion, though the truth is I did what I did out of necessity and my own desire to destroy the problem. That may not have been Julia’s intention. The second time? I don’t know that one, either. We blew up the hotel. I killed a dragon. I spoke with the handsome bartender. I was chased. There were entirely too many facets to that shit to recall what may have been the main point. The second passenger car was there, as well, so perhaps her wish was for me to face myself through those problems identified by each woman with whom I spoke. They were physical representations of issues with which I’ve dealt for decades. Moreover, dealing with them was difficult and forced me to see what others go through trying to deal with me. I hated every second of that fucking place and still don’t know if Julia’s intention was for me to dissect the way I life my life and the way it relates to those around me. I still don’t fucking know. This process is going to take some time, I guess. Oh, God... There she is again. Hold me, Jamie. Please hold me. Nope. Not real... Like everything else I need. The time is now 0854. I’ll get to the rest of my routine when the coffee is gone. I wish there was a pair of ears available right now. My head is all wrapped around what I’ve seen, and the daydreaming is driving me insane. No one is listening, nor will anyone darken my doorstep. I sure could use a companion if I am going to venture through one of the doorways. Fuck. Alone, as always. Julia would not be my first choice, though. Maybe Julie or Jaime. This is one of those mornings. I can’t talk about it. Which way? Left or right? Or do I just walk away and take a stroll down the beach? I don’t know what to do here. This shit has me worried that either direction may land me in a heap of trouble again. The gunman chased me all over the fucking place and I really don’t need anything like that right now. I have enough difficulty just sitting here trying to think. There you go... Wanna talk about mixing things up a bit? I am sitting at my computer but also standing on a beach. Are the doors in my head? Julia is in there, for sure. She won’t leave. And speaking of that slender beauty... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Shit. Leave me alone, please.
I have to do something with this situation or I fear I’ll be wandering out here for the rest of my life. That does not sound appealing. Fear has prevented me from taking even small chances in order to attempt to gain something wonderful and very rewarding, and right now fear is keeping me away from the doorways. Could there be anything good inside? Or... On the other side? Is there an ‘other’ side? Not knowing what might await my presence is making me crazy. Julia is not helping, either. She’s obviously not happy with the way I’ve been living these last few years, and I honestly cannot disagree. I don’t need her criticizing me, either, but there has never been much choice in the matter because she seems to know everything. She knows me, for sure. One or the other? Will my choice matter? I have too many fucking questions right now. 0914. I could end up in the hotel or on a train. Maybe a huge locomotive like last time, all six-thousand horses apparent. At least I felt a measure of power at those controls. Sitting in this chair – as well as standing on the beach under a sun that has not moved at all – I feel completely powerless in life. I have to try embracing the idea that the two journeys awaiting my presence could actually be positive learning experiences rather than only doom. I guess fearing everything just pushes me toward the possibility of doom rather than something good. The last thing I want right now is to be forced into facing the past again. If I were to walk through one or the other and end up in a fucking passenger car, my head would have one hell of a time dealing with it. The first occasion was very slow to develop, whereas the doors could mean an instant change. I don’t know if I can handle anything of the sort these days. I am so fragile that it’s not even a little funny. I am weak. One or the other? ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Shut up, damn it.’ ‘I am waiting for you.’ Finally! At least I now know that Julia is somewhere out there and I will probably see her again. This may be the push I need to make a decision. Maybe. I am still scared to death, though. I really am. Not only have I just lived through years of feeling powerless, fearful and ineffective in life, but each day shows me that my ability to lift myself out of the depression and find a positive direction has been greatly diminished. When I succeed, it is minor as compared to who I was years ago. I could walk through one of the doors and see Julia standing there, meaning I would immediately fall into her arms like last time (if she wants me at all). That could help for a time. I don’t fucking know. Shit. I don’t like this situation very much. Some mysteries are exciting and compelling; this one is scaring the hell out of me. On the chair and on the beach. The sun is unmoving. I can already tell this world is not right somehow, much like the fucking hotel. At least there are no scorpions or snow this time. And? I wonder what happens if I just remain here and avoid both doorways. Will I be here forever? Part of me? No answers. Only questions. 1025. I am apprehensive, yet cannot avoid dreaming that perhaps Jaime is in there somewhere. I could use her loving manner right about now (like almost every fucking day). Could she be waiting to help guide me through more shit? Another adventure that nearly takes my life? I mean... Jesus. How many times did I die last time? How many times did Julie die? Jaime is a machine. No worries there. God damn do I need her at this moment. Bad. I am in horrible shape overall, meaning anything positive – like caring pairs of ears and arms – could push me to enter a doorway. I just don’t know, though. I don’t fucking know if I will be worse off for the decision. I’ve been fighting to suppress my feelings all morning, and the notion of one or more of those women being just beyond the openings is not helping. None of it is or was real. Is this real? Am I standing here dreaming of some loving, caring understanding while I simultaneously sit at my fucking table almost completely bereft of hope? My mind is stretching, but the directions may not necessarily be positive. I’ve done little to help myself in recent years. Something has to happen or I’ll end up staring at two options forever. I must decide and go, period. My daily routine is finished save for the dishes drip-drying. I have to do a load of dry cleaning and some spots on the wood floor need attention. Other than those items, the rest of the day is pretty much going to operate according to my mood or whims. Daydreaming about that girl since Saturday is hurting me deeply; right there but so far out of reach. Impossible, really. She is fucking impossible to attain or even be close to me. Impossible, and I still cannot state the reasons. Everything hurts me and there is very little left to help. I need this glass of whiskey to do its job this morning. I really do. Nothing else can suppress and derail so much Goddamned desire. I don’t understand why my situation has become so terrible. Maybe there are a few reasons, but sitting here in the chair and standing on the beach means I have to find the strength to both overcome the desire and make a choice as to which way I should go. I often state that I have never felt so down. That fact seems to be worsening because right now I cannot recall ever feeling worse. It’s everything... The connections which have all disappeared for one reason or another, the mass of desire that hits me like a wrecking ball every fucking morning, and the emptiness that fills me at this very moment as well as appearing to fill my future. If I knew the doors could help, I’d already be off this beach. The sun still has not moved. Nine days of this have passed and I am still completely fucked in the head. Maybe I should throw more stuff in the trash. Doing so sometimes helps. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, my love.’ Fuck. I wish I could shut her up, but at the same time I do understand. At least if I venture through an opening there is a strong possibility that I will appear on the deck plates of a massive locomotive, meaning I could flex such power and feel a tiny bit more in control of things. I just don’t know. The other side could also be a deserted wasteland of heat and dust, much like the negative material plane. What the fuck did I learn while there besides knowing that scorpions can wear headphones? Will I see Julie lying in the bathroom all covered in blood? Will I see that man again? I killed him, but in those worlds, nothing is certain or permanent, methinks. Anything could be awaiting my arrival. I need help but am too scared to take the steps. The beach is peaceful for the time being. At least I believe Julia is there, but which way? Maybe Julia will allow me to gaze at her lines. I’ve seen them before, but that was many years ago. She was very kind and understood because she was created in my head. Think about that one for a minute... I conjured her out of thin air like some gorgeous apparition, spent time with her, and now she is waiting for me on the other side of one of the doors. I am standing between them and sitting here typing the words at the same time. Isn’t that splendid? I am so heeled over that the mainmast is about to get wet. My life is simple, yet complicated. I have to do something before further losing my mind. The spacers for the compensating sprocket on the motorcycle arrived a few minutes ago. Hopefully I can build the primary drive and align everything for the last time. I suppose I can tackle the dry cleaning while out there. That way I can keep an eye on the timer and pull the clothes out before they begin to wrinkle. Hmm... Bike work and dry cleaning. Both can distract me for a while, yet neither can truly help. Like Tony said, ‘It’s all just a series of distractions before you die’. I cannot disagree. Something has to happen before I walk away from this computer, though. Something important and potentially dangerous. I must decide and move. Adriana is wearing that bra that seems to have twin straps on each side. I don’t know what that means, but when I see her I feel love as if she was my sister. This has nothing to do with anything. Sometimes comments step across the keyboard when I am trying to gather my thoughts. Ugh. Whatever. Pick one, dipshit. Pick one and live through the consequences. Which? They are identical. Julia said she has been waiting for me. Will she be on the other side of whichever I choose? I’m scared. I need her. I need a lot of things right now. I need to know as much as I need to understand myself. I just fucking need to know. The time has come. To the left with my heart in my throat. Left. Take a step, idiot. Take a fucking step. Into the opening I go..."
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