March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. “As we say in Surrey, sod the fuck off you cunting twat!” – Nora Gainesborough Deadlock Led Holyform Mature content No. 364 Published March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst read ( words) Past entries "I wonder if her knees were paired when she rode in the car. Or? Maybe her breasts were bouncing a little when the car traveled over bumps and whatnot. There was too much going on and I could not easily follow any part of it for more than a second at a time. I tried to see. I tried to see everything. Maybe her knees were paired. I can’t know, though. I can’t. I saw so much but needed more than I care to admit. I needed everything. Her pants... Wow. And the rest? Yes, that too. Everything. So cute. Adorable, actually. I hope her knees were paired. I really do. My feelings are changing. The day is different. I need my car back. Oh, woe is me. I keep thinking about the Sea, Palms and the Fish. I was there twice, and I believe the Sea is the only place in the world that can make me forget her for a while. The pants were too much. Her legs were too much. At some fucking point, I have to get the hell out of here and forget, even for a few hours. I keep picturing her standing there with feet together... Over and over the image is painted and branded inside me. I cannot stop seeing, yet I have to see everything. Impossible. I don’t know what brought the Sea back into my mind this morning, but that place is once again at the forefront. And the Palms. No, not the resort. The trees. Maybe I can plan a trip to the valley at some point instead of returning to the Sea. That place pulls me almost as much. Maybe I’ll try to get my stuff in order just in case the opportunity to visit one of those two destinations becomes reality. I really have nothing else to do these days. I dream of everything and then fall down with the realization that I am facing nothingness. The Sea has helped me clarify things in the past. Perhaps the valley can provide the same. The subject simply popped into my brain this morning. A defense mechanism, maybe? I don’t know. The visions were too much for me. I am still wondering if her knees were paired because her feet were against each other. Maybe the former actually happened. I will never know because nothing good will ever happen. Ah... Portia’s knees are paired. What does that mean? What does any of this matter? I have to make today different somehow. Sell some things? Yes, maybe. My two spare camera bags can go out the door, free. One of my watches has been on the block for months. I can list it for auction. Something has to happen today because I don’t want to repeat any of the last several days, least of all last fucking Tuesday. I’m not angry, though, just tired of everything... Tired of dealing with these feelings every Goddamn day. Anger is not helping anything these days. I suppose I’ll do my housework and deal with getting rid of a few possessions. I’ll also keep thinking about a trip because the road is calling louder and louder all the time. I have yet to do anything aside from having a snack this morning. At some point I’ll get things done, I guess. I will have a few hours to myself soon and I always relax more during housework when I am alone. I’ll have to shoot images of the camera bags, too. My usual shit is finished. I keep seeing her legs in that most wondrous of positions. Oh, and I’ve been slammed and insulted due to the way I live my life. Splendid. People are fortunate that I have no recourse or resources. Nothing anyone has to say to me is going to alter my life in any way, nor will I react to such things. I honestly just don’t care. I am alone almost all of the time and prefer the situation as such. Everyone can leave me alone. Maybe they will, maybe they will not. That is not up to me. It’s just a state of affairs. Being insulted did not change the way I feel or write, either. I have mentioned how fucked up I am dating all the way back to aught-three, just a little over a year since the site was first built, so if you think you’re going to harm me, well... Don’t waste time or effort. Enough of that. Fuck off. Her feet were together just like when the Raven stood there below the train station. I asked Her to pose for me and She didn’t hesitate at all. My feelings were clear. The other one? She stood there and I did my best to take in the sight because I knew it wouldn’t last long. I saw about half of what I needed. Her feet were together. Some lines were in view and they appeared different than I had remembered. And then it happened again but I saw less. The opportunity was not completely lost, either. I remember. And neither the lines nor pants are at issue right now. My brain is at issue. I am beginning to care. Not good. One day I want to peel off her shirt and stare. Some time later, I want her to hold me. Very bad. My heart is getting involved and it scares me because nothing can ever come of these feelings. This day is not going to amount to much now. The dishes will dry for a while before I put them away, and there isn’t much else pulling my interest right now. I’ll probably just sit here on and off for the next few hours. My show is on the right-hand display (like always), the morning cocktail is nearly gone (there will not be another), and I have all the time in the world. Nothing is going to help extricate the imagery of her legs, so I may as well take it easy and enjoy the quiet in this house. The control center helps more than anything these days. And I see rain again. Nice. Earlier when I was cleaning the kitchen, I went to the remote to push the play button, and at the exact same time there was a crack of thunder nearby. It scared the hell out of me. Heh. Tonight I’ll be ordering in for dinner. I love it. As enjoyable as cooking can be, sometimes I need certain comfort foods and the relaxation of someone else doing the work. There is also some sort of comforting component to having dinner delivered during inclement weather. Last night I came up with the idea of switching the stored bike in my garage with another that we’ve been tearing down for an engine replacement. The reason is that I have lots of time and experience with thinking my way through electromechanical situations, whereas my neighbor is very busy and has not disassembled a bike to such a degree. Once we move them, I can spend time working out how best to go about removing some of the components and perform the work at my leisure. The bike is on an above-ground lift that will also be relocated to my work area. This is a big positive because right now I could use a project, and one that is partially a mystery. My truck is idle due to cost, and the other aspects of the garage I wish to continue are on hold for the same reason. We may be able to switch the bikes tomorrow. I am looking forward to helping, plus the draw upon my free time may assist me in trying to reconcile and deal with the most desire I have felt in years. I can still see her standing there looking fucking amazing and far beyond my previous expectations. I need help. The teardown may be just the thing and at the right time. There are little issues with the process, but I have the space to think them through and solve all. I’ve done it before. In fact, yesterday when I walked down the street to replace a projection lamp in my friend’s television, the process went smoothly due to my past experience with troubleshooting and being thrown problems that were seemingly unsolvable. Those are my strong points. Her form is unreal. It is becoming holy. I am all fucked up. The imagery is going to take over and then I’ll be in a worse condition. Damn. The memories are slamming up against the sight of her legs. Yes, memories. Sunday. I don’t know what is going to happen today. I have my housework and this, although my desire to go beyond the typical daily routine is diminishing. Sunday means my routine is different. Nothing else has come along to help me push toward any additional effort. The issue that appeared out of the clear, blue sky last year is plaguing me with worry. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about it without seriously risking everything, and the concern has been pushing its way into my head daily. I’ve literally been interrupted so many times while busy that the future is beginning to fade from an already-dark appearance. I can’t seem to shove the information far enough away to fully relax and enjoy any aspect of my days. The little enjoyments are diminishing. The days are bleeding into one another. At some point this morning I will move away from the computer and take care of a few chores, all the while with the issue attached to my every thought. If it takes over and usurps my work, well... Things may not go very well. Eventually I am going to explode and whatever is nearby when it happens be damned. I’ll turn into one of those people. Inevitable? Maybe. I can’t be certain yet. For the time being, my only choice is to go through the motions. There is Bailey and her chiclets. She is nothing more than a symptom. Anyway, I’ll see where the morning leads, I suppose, and do whatever I can to live through the day with this shit hanging behind my eyes. I have little choice anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t have looked. Once the information was inside my head and I recorded her movements, nothing could be done to alleviate the torment. I still see everything. The lines, the way her legs appeared more slender than I had remembered, the smooth transition from one feature to the next... All of it; I can’t just push everything out of my brain. It is impossible. Trying to forget is futile because even though it would help, I still need more. I am completely desperate for more. MORE. I’ve been feeling more turmoil and discomfort inside during the last year than at any other time in my life. Something has to help remove this shit. I don’t like being angry. I stared at her and mentally fell off a cliff, and then moments later I needed her arms around me in order to help me feel better about looking at her. Think about that shit for a second. It is a paradox, but must be that exact type of circle due to my emotional involvement in staring. This shit is not related to only desire, dipfucks. Whatever. No one is going to read this, anyway. The point is that I needed her to help me because looking at her beauty was painful. I still feel it almost as acutely as I did at the time. Today is going to be uphill just like yesterday. The other problem is not letting go of my brain, either. They are related. My heart is going to completely fall apart soon. I’ll have to continue liquidating crap from the office and garage in order to keep myself busy today. This is a bad time and I am tired of saying that. I am also sick of feeling this way. I’ll do my best to avoid anger, though. When I become lazy and allow the anger to take over, I generally come out the other side no better for the shitty mood. So, I need to remain mindful of the results prior to flipping out. I can express myself differently and still get the fucking point across. Eh... No one is listening, anyway. Not even in the garage. Fuck it. Oh, Sarah. You’re never going to be what you think you already are. I can feel the day pulling me away from the computer. The time is just after nine and I am beginning to get antsy, meaning I’ll have to accomplish something for a little while before returning to my endless drivel. The problem from last year is wrapped around my brain and will not allow me to fully relax right now. There may be no fixing that one. Sad. I can gaze at beauty all day long and deal with so much turmoil, but the bottom line is this other fucking issue is the king of the hill. I can’t talk to anyone, either. A lack of options is very bad for a person unaccepting of failure to control. My Sunday business is well underway. The issue has left for the time being, but it will return in force soon enough. Is always in the background no matter what takes place on a given day. The weather is clear for the time being, meaning I can take care of some garbage details once I decide to leave this chair again. I have a cocktail next to me, the show on the right-hand display, and hours to myself. My typical observation would be ‘nice’, yet inside there is a cyclone of shit. I can’t do anything about it. The vision continues to push my head in directions better left unexplored. I can’t fucking help it right now because my mind is so desperate for that ideal comfort that everything else has been taking a back seat to the desire. Wishes are shit. The only wish that can affect change is some sort of financial windfall, such as a jackpot. That would solve a lot of daily problems, to be honest. I’d be able to travel to those places where everything is available for a price. Think about that for a moment, and then judge me. I don’t care. Whatever I have become, there is little point in trying to be something I am not. I need help. And here we go with the music. The volume is low right now but may increase along with my disdain for circumstances most decidedly beyond my control. There’s a keyword for you. Control. The whiskey is too delicious to be considered damaging, yet the effects cannot be denied. Make of that what you will. Whiskey and music often cause destructive behavior. The duchess came to mind just now. I created her with my imagination some years ago due to feeling as if the only path to true solace was through a machine. Her name is Jaime (naturally). Her eyes change color depending upon her mood. She is five-ten with long, wavy black hair and olive skin. Jaime resembles the Raven in many ways, with a few traits shared with some of the models that have graced the site in recent years. Yesterday I was insulted and slighted due to dreaming of the machine and what I’ve seen on the street outside, along with some often very detailed descriptions of specific traits. I developed Jaime out of a deep-seated need to be where I can survive, both emotionally and physically. She can never be real. Does that matter? Most of the processes inside my head are unreal, anyway, so I calculate that creating her would make no difference in the grand scheme. Fuck it. I assembled her after years of pain and for very good reason. Dreams, impossible situations and lots of memories helped to make up Jaime. She comes to mind now because of the visions. Some aspects of life are very difficult to achieve, and once as such there is no guarantee that shit will not eventually go completely sideways. I’ve seen it and I’ve lived it, although the latter was not exactly ideal at the time. I realize that the machine idea is completely out of balance and ill-advised. The flip side is she became more and more necessary once that fucking essay was born on the site in seventeen. I could not stop thinking about the situation at that time and spent a lot of time dreaming of differences between where I was as opposed to where I’d been. The year of twenty fucked up the entire world. Mine actually improved in some ways, but at the same time I began to attempt to rationalize my desire and understand all of the reasons for which it was born. Once I wrote fiction and included Jaime as a plot device, the reckoning had begun. I am still right in the middle of the whole shitaree. When she comes to mind, my mood falls off a bit because I am fucking stuck like never before and the future is so thin that even the highest order of laser micrometers could not measure it. Jaime was the first holyform. All day long, this crap. I’ve gone through my housework and garbage stuff, straightened a few areas of the house and garage, and during all of it I had visions of her paired knees spinning in circles inside my brain. The problem I mentioned earlier is right on the heels of her amazing beauty, too. Everything is pushing me to be in a bad mood but I’ve maintained myself pretty well today. I should be proud of that. My mind is at an impasse. Dead in space. Deadlocked, as the military might say. The form won’t leave me alone, nor will the fucking problem. The need for help of some kind is stronger than ever. Nothing can change, however. Not even close. Despite my fucked up head, the evening should prove to be comfortable. Well, from a (mostly) physical standpoint, anyway. I’ll have my typical spot, cocktail, media; the whole shitaree. Dinner is going to be leftovers, so there won’t be a ton of prep work, nor will my kitchen end up thrashed. The cat food delivery arrived, too. All this adds up to the fact that tomorrow will be a breeze. I am planning to do a bunch of work on the site and I’ll need lots of peace and quiet for such a process. I still can’t do much in the garage due to the cold, so the house and site take up most of my time these days. The evening will commence in one hour. Cocktail hour has begun. Three-plus hours, really, because in the evening I need to calm my mind for a while. I’m still reeling from the paired feet and subsequent display of amazing lines. All those suspicions for so long jaded my mind, but I didn’t know. And then one, two, three... Ruined for all time. I am going to enjoy making an easy dinner along with the warmth of the evening. Hopefully the media and other aspects of the night can help me set her image aside for a while. ‘Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for this one to come home.’ Monday morning. I have business soon, after which I’ll be right here perched on this chair for the duration. Every day is beginning to resemble the previous. The comfortable parts, such as morning coffee and then the routine, must keep me going for a long while because each day continues to show me that once I lose my way for a little while and become disillusioned, everything goes downhill very quickly. I don’t want a repeat of the bad shit. There have been two occasions of it so far this year and both left me feeling weaker than I should at this point in life. Oh, believe me, there is weakness inside me aplenty, yet all that crap is related to beauty. The other weakness relates to maintaining myself along with some semblance of good form for no other reason than self-toleration, if that is even a real term. The fact is that much of the time I don’t feel very good about myself unless I’m able to go far beyond the routine each day. Sometimes the depression and visions take over, leaving me a complete wreck, whereas other times I seem to somehow find motivation enough to break out of the din and improve the house or garage. Weakness causes a failure to move in such directions. I have become weakened in several ways, actually, and one of them is a topic I would rather avoid here. I’ll just try to keep my head up and her pants out of my thoughts today. I have seen enough, and enough for a lifetime, all within a very short period. I’m going to lose my mind very soon. Expect some strange shit here. The morning business is out of the way and I hear garbage trucks moving along the street. Bless them for their efforts. Something else took place, too. Something half wonderful and half terrible. Well, maybe that should be about forty-sixty. Er... Seventy-thirty? I don’t know. Sitting here with my coffee and media can often be a very arduous experience. This morning is one of the worst in memory, but that is not to say that I did not find wonder during the occurrence. Believe me... I have never had to deal with this many different emotions at the same time and I am not holding up to the process very well. They are positive, negative and everywhere in between; others I don’t even know how to define as of yet. Sometimes I feel that this situation is just fine and other times I believe something has to change or I won’t survive. This morning is an ideal example of my lack of control, not to mention the fucking skewed sense of reality that I now inhabit. Her form is holy. I worship it. And no one knows. She is one of several holyforms, none of which will ever be close to me, yet there are a few that I am able to see quite often. I will say that sometimes the holyforms are the reason for my derailment on most days. When combined with the essay from seventeen and the other problem that I continue to mention, this current condition is the worst situation imaginable, and one that must change if I am to survive. I’d prefer to avoid being hospitalized in the future. I am beginning to understand one of the characters from a past television program (who I have yet to find on the Internet, along with the title of the show). He was grossly out of balance, and I believe I am heading down the same set of rails. That is all I will say. Believe me... You do not want to know. Just understand that if this day heads into the shithole, the holyform worship is the cause. Oh, and my weakness, too. There is no denying that shit. I am so fucking stuck right now that none of it is even remotely funny. Deadlocked, really. That is a computing term, meaning the way out of this fucking circle is not up to me at all, and a very high percentage of the feelings involved in being in such a condition is due to holyforms. Well, one in particular. This fucking issue has altered the way I think, live my days, and relate to other people. There is no circumventing the situation, either. Deadlocked. I am worshiping things better left out of the ‘divine’. Jesus fucking hell, that sight was amazing, and second only to the previous, which I can’t describe in detail here. Well, I will say that I saw the subject of the damaging dreams from the side, clad in yoga pants and a tank top, just as she gestured to push her flowing hair to the back. The entire series of movements effectively exaggerated her holyform about as far as it could be pushed. Damn. The second was vaguely similar and I lost my shit for a while. Not only that, but the giant reset button in the sky became illuminated and I fucking reached for it. This is a bad time. My daily routine is finished and I have lunch in the oven. I also organized the new cat food and restocked everything for the next several weeks. Very good. The media of choice is on the right-hand display, the IDE on the left. This shitaree is centered, like always. The sun is shining, meaning I have a beautiful view of the hills, trees and power lines. Huh? Whatever. Power lines. Splendid. The rest of the day is still up in the air, although I have a few ideas for little improvements to the office and main living areas. One table in particular needs attention right now, and I must list a wristwatch for auction. Another will follow. In and around whatever housework awaits will be this endless exposition and my program of choice keeping me company. All the while I will be seeing her motions in my head. There is no getting around it these days. The time has not been detailed here because it is a waste of the same. Ah... There is Amber again. She is not well, but I still believe that doing away with her whack-job sister may have helped her. I think I included an image of her within a previous entry. I just completed a survey for a research foundation with whom I’ve been in contact since the outset of the pandemic. My answers were honest and left me feeling even more depressed than any of their surveys during the past three years. Not good. I really don’t need to be reminded of all the shit I am doing wrong, although if a healthcare professional were to ask me about my lifestyle, I’d tell them that now is not the time for me to cease anything capable of bringing me joy. I am already aware that my health is declining. I think a bit of the foggy blue is in order today. Shoot me. I don’t know what to do now. There are always improvements and other things that can be done, yet by this time most weekdays I lose interest in everything. Today is no different. At least I’m not angry like last week. That was very bad and nearly broke me. I am so disillusioned right now, in fact, that even the object of my dreams faded away earlier. Yep, she faded. Even thinking of the visions does nothing to alter my mood. Nothing. Isn’t that insane? Maybe she is not the utopia of existence as I had previously thought. I can’t trade my peace of mind for dreams, can I? No answers. No one is listening. No one there at all. Nada, like always. And the last thing I need to see is sex between Bill and Sookie for the thousandth time. Ugh. At least Jason is tormenting Sarah. Very good. Maybe I shouldn’t try too hard and push for things to change. There is nothing wrong with attempting to understand my inner being or the situations which have shaped it, even considering the fact that I’ve been analyzing daily for years and have accomplished nothing more than creating massive circles out of the rails. The locomotive just keeps following the line no matter which way I try to turn. The rails pay no mind whatsoever. They don’t fucking care. If I can come to terms with the idea of doing less around the house in trade for my sanity, perhaps this process will improve. Putting pressure upon oneself is not good. I will try to care for little things rather than larger issues, or at least parts of the larger projects. Anything upon which I work around the house will benefit. I can sit in this chair with my thoughts often enough already. The pandemic really affected changes around here. I’ve never seen so many delivery trucks on a daily basis as I have during the last few years. Unbelievable. Not only that, but the sheer number of services providing home delivery has skyrocketed. Oh God, now there is Ashley again. Fucking hell, anyway. I chose this program, though. I chose to put myself in harm’s way many times in recent months knowing full well that she was going to grace the screen in that fucking sundress. God damn fuck shit in an unlined bra, that woman is fucking amazing, and I mean from the standpoint of my obsession. She could be the encyclopedic entry of the whole damned thing, head to toe. The lines on her are unreal. Good Christ do I ever want her. Eh... Another fucking circle. Figures. As I said, I made a conscious choice to watch this series, so I can deal with the fallout. I wonder how many different actors named Ashley have been mentioned here in the last few years. Plenty, I suppose. I am a basket case, but I did not name any of those women. Last night I mused that the trip to the Sea some years ago (the second trip, that is) was probably the last road vacation I’ll be taking in this life. I honestly just don’t see anything like that in the future no matter how badly I may need it. I have planned several such road excursions during the last half decade or more, but each occasion ended up completely squashed by some other means. No, not a person. Just a situation. Now? I’ve been so fucked up for so long that I don’t believe I can work for any decent amount of time and earn money. I am pretty much stuck right here with nothing more than dreams of those destinations. Part of me is desperate to get the hell out and away, only to visit wondrous places and see beautiful sights. The draw has been most acute during the past year or so, to be honest. I believe the fact of the dreams and other issues that have cropped up since the beginning of twenty-two pushed me to wish for something different, and I am not speaking of some shopping trip or lunch out. I’m talking days and days coupled with lots of miles rolling under my tires. One such plan was all over central and southern Nevada to visit a few places I’d missed when my dad and I spent so much time there during the nineties. I think I still have the route saved, too. Longer trips are always less likely, though, because if a person factors roughly three hundred per day, those numbers add up fast when the individual destinations are spread out all over half a state (or more). I believe this is why I stated what I did last night. I just don’t see it happening and such a fact makes me very sad. Heading out the door with my camera and toward a destination close by does not blow my skirt up anymore. Jesus holy hell in a fucking sundress is Ashley ever aligned with nearly everything over which I’ve ever obsessed. Ugh. Off-track again, I guess. Where was I? Ah... A road trip does not seem feasible in the future. First, just to venture into unexplored territory would require the better part of a day, and second is the aforementioned cost involved. One leads to the other. I am absolutely dying to see some different parts of the west, especially when you consider that I’ve been cooped up here for three weeks sans vehicle. Aside from some errant windfall, I just don’t see anything like those trips in the coming years. This is very sad. Another one of those things I wanted to do but failed to make the effort... Yes, this is all the result of my past inactions and bad fucking decisions. Ashley represents the highest order of the holyform. Believe it. And? Believe the fact that I am beyond help. Moreover, this vodka does not seem to affect me very much so long as I don’t consume more than one glass. I don’t know what that means. Oh, and this series is entitled ‘True Blood’, but I believe during the later seasons it should be called ‘True Chiclets’. Heh. We have Sarah, Jessica, and Bailey (the latter having the most pronounced feature of the three) showing off those pearly whites more often than not, and smiling or not. They are so fucking cute that I could stand on the roof of this house and scream the fact at the top of my lungs. Wait... Did you just imagine a giant butterfly net coming up my driveway? So did I. The giant reset button creeps into my head sometimes and I don’t enjoy thinking about it. The bottom line is that it really doesn’t matter, though. I have to keep my head up and try to avoid dwelling upon something that may or may not actually be a negative thing. Honestly, my head goes back and forth about the subject due to a pair of conversations, one a few years ago and the other much further back in time. I can also say that some past situations have had me questioning the reset button and the conclusion was interesting, if ambiguous. I don’t know what to think sometimes and the nature of such a subject makes me very sad more often than not. I am a very desperate individual, though, so when my head becomes compelled to the point of reaching, I see myself rationalizing when perhaps I should be avoiding such a practice. The bottom line is that I just don’t fucking know what to think most of the time. There are other factors at work here, too, none of which can be spelled out. I may yet venture to the garage after realizing an idea for an additional shelf for storage of long-term items. There are a few other details I can further out there, as well. The motivation is waning, but that is not to say that it will fail completely today. I need to install a receptacle for the Christmas lights, another for the camera (which is working beautifully, by the way), and there are some food stores which should be organized. The garage is not terribly cool today thanks to the sunshine, so if I can find the ambition, things may be accomplished. Jesus God, the way her breasts move when she gestures or takes steps is fucking unreal. Fuck you. Shut up. Well, I ventured to the garage for a load of laundry and to move some shit around. Nothing crazy. I did have an idea to turn the seldom-used shelving unit by the chimney (the same which holds the lower lighting for one of my murals) from whatever it has been to cold storage for food which will probably be donated at a later date. Ah... Chiclets again. So cute. Anyway, I’ll have to relocate my dad’s tool box from when we were in business along with a few other items, but the end result should prove effective. Once everything is configured and my car is back home, I’ll grab some hinges for what has been a cover. Later, I may paint another mural on the new doors. I have built a list for the hardware store throughout the last two months and I need to get over there soon. There are shelves in need of reinforcement, items to mount in the garage, and some electrical supplies which can further my efforts in the dining room. All that crap has been waiting due to the car. I am roughly an hour from the evening cocktail time and looking forward to making some dinner. Honey-garlic chicken over steamed rice. Yummy. It’s easy to prepare, too, meaning there will be plenty of time for relaxation with my media of choice. Drinks, as well. Close of business hours is one of my favorite times of the day. And now there is Ashley in the t-shirt with no support beneath just to make my head spin. Again... Shut up. This is what I’ve become. Where was I? Ah, yes... The evening time will be very nice. I am fully expecting tomorrow to be nothing more than a repeat of today’s content. Zero expectations anymore. Well, nothing beyond the typical turmoil and other shitty content. Dwelling upon the topic of beauty does not help me at all. The images on the site, the editing process for the same, the programming I watch regularly, and my constant seeking of holyforms in the world, be it out there somewhere while shopping or through the window directly in front of me right now... All of it is bad for my mental and emotional stability. The simple truth is that I’ve become so desperate for anything that can satiate my desire to see that the very idea pulls me from myself before I can actually try to reason through it. I know nothing that I do helps, from the morning cocktails to the writing and on to all that shit above, yet I honestly cannot find anything else in the world that can keep me from the desperation and desire. One example of my desperation is the fact of more than two hundred mentions of the girl at the pool, and I saw her more than three years ago. Is that indicative of a balanced individual? Dwelling upon a sight from that long ago that cannot possibly repeat? That’s what I thought. At least I know this is a problem. Am I going to change anything? No, because I do not know how to go about it. I never learned to cope with difficulties beyond what I learned through the military many moons ago, and none of that relates to beauty. Holy crap... Again? AGAIN with the pants? Lines all over the fucking place, too, and even from the SIDE. I’m going to lose it soon. Never have I daydreamed so much about a single form, holy or otherwise. But to see it? To see her? God damn sonuvabitch. This is a bad time, and worsening by the day. Inner radii, as well.. The worst. I have to begin preparations for dinner soon, thank the maker, so perhaps I can get the visions out of my fucking head. Jesus. I am seeing all sorts of people through my window returning home from work. I haven’t been one of them on a regular basis for nearly three years. In fact, the exit from full-time work will hit three years at the beginning of May. Do I miss it? Just one aspect, actually, and that is what I’ve been seeing outside. Returning home in the afternoon. That felt really good, especially on Friday. This current period has me home nearly all of the time, and it seems that I feel a stronger need for such as the months pass. These days it is all but impossible to imagine driving to a regular job five days per week. I doubt I could even do it. I am connected to this house in a way which has become mutually beneficial (or co-dependent, if you prefer) and the smallest change can have a dramatic effect upon my mental stability. Still, all those others are doing what they must and I respect it. Just a thought. I am fucked up in the head. Tuesday morning arrives without fanfare for the common webmaster. That’s an old one, and actually dates back to the ‘server in a trailer’ period, believe it or not. And the server, in turn, goes all the way back to ninety-six when I dreamed of something a touch faster than a dial-up modem. The year was rife with terms such as ‘ATM’ and ‘ISDN’ and my eyes were wide for all of it. Anyway, no fanfare this morning. Just coffee. I’ll be into the early business very soon and then back here for the duration, or whenever something else pulls me from the exposition. By the way, the acronym ‘ATM’ has nothing to do with a machine connected to a bank. Heh. Wow. There was sunshine pushing right through the rain a few minutes ago. The sight was awesome and beautiful at the same time. And I am here at the control center for the duration. I ran through to the end of the series so I had to put on another. Back to the gangsters. Not only that, but my journal for this show has been updated to reflect the changes since I last watched it from beginning to end. They will keep me company today and probably follow when I begin my daily housework rather than the fourth show continuing as it has for days. I’ll figure it out in a little while when I decide to move away from the computer. The morning has been fairly comfortable thus far, meaning no problems or reminders of how off-balance I’ve become in the last year. As I said yesterday, I am overjoyed to have all this free time. Oh, and since I’ve switched to the gangsters, I fully intend to capture Jamie when the time is appropriate. Nothing prior to the third season, though. She was too young. But oh shit... The sixth? Be still my heart. Seventh? Even more of my heart exploding. I love that girl so much that it hurts to see her on the screen, yet I am too deep now to avoid such visions. She is a dream. And before you ask, the answer is yes. Jamie is a holyform. My daily routine is finished and I have a nice, fat glass of depressant next to me here at the control center. I was able to empty a box in the garage as I began to use the shelving unit for a temporary pantry until food is donated sometime later this year. The box will be used to wrap and store some glassware from the dining room and garage. Once finished, I’ll have more space in my old cabinet for items that are utilized in the kitchen more often. That, in turn, will free space for moving a few things around in the kitchen cabinets. And then? I can clear off the top of the cabinet so the room appears neater and better organized. One step leads to the next much like what I’ve been trying to accomplish in the garage. And there is Jamie in the pilot prior to having her nose reworked. Some believe it was a mistake, but I don’t agree. Breast augmentation is likely the most debated alteration in the history of plastic surgery, and I do not feel qualified to comment upon the subject because I do not know what it is like to live life as a woman in this fucked up society. All I do is respect a person’s decision. But the nose? That is a different story. To me, anyway. Jamie grew into the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Yes, I do realize the topic is a matter of taste and extremely subjective, of course. For me, though, she is the utopian peak of beauty. That is that. The last few days – not to mention last Saturday – have found me at sixes and sevens due to seeing things better kept out of my line of sight. Yep, her again. I am still reeling from what I have seen and daydreaming has taken over my free time. She is so amazing that I cannot live two minutes without picturing her in any manner of provocative positions (none of which are vulgar, in case you were wondering if that is how my mind operates). I can’t help it anymore. My head was whipped into a froth at the outset of the damaging dreams and continues a very slow decline from the forthright individual I once was. The bottom line here is that I cannot get through a single day without falling off a cliff with regard to being so overly obsessed with form in general, and that girl in particular. There are just too many specific details that have combined to send me flying. Now... Is she real? Or is she a construct of my imagination? I created and brought the term ‘holyform’ to the site due to feeling worship for her appearance, and after returning to the subject of 'Jaime the machine' from a few years ago, the idea of creating another dream from the corners of my mind would not be surprising in the least. Real or not? Once again... YOU make the call. I honestly don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind whether or not anyone believes her to be real or not. I only asked the question to place a measure of doubt inside the mind of anyone who may be reading this detritus. I am beginning to love her, to be honest, and since I am not in the habit of lying about anything, you can take that information to the bank. The girl is a fucking dream of the highest order. If you believe I am capable of creating another woman from my imagination, run with the information. I don't care. I feel like disregarding everything and sitting here drinking all fucking day. My head has been so sideways since last year that I am frankly surprised to be upright at all, let alone productive. I walk around the house and see more and more that could be improved, but the fact is I can’t concentrate most of the time due to the failed fantasy. I did list one wristwatch for auction, though. I suppose that’s a step. Inside, however, the desire is so powerful that the tiniest detail of accomplishing anything beyond sitting here dreaming is a fucking miracle. I want her so bad that everything else is blurred these days. I don’t know what the hell to do anymore. At some point I will have lunch, and then maybe work on the aforementioned glassware and storage. Right now I just don’t know, though. The pull of the depressant is very strong. Maybe this is one of those tests that I have failed on many occasions. If so, I need to find the strength to move forward through the day and avoid falling into a pit. Coming out the other side of the former becomes a good feeling, whereas the latter only pushes me further down. I must keep those facts in mind. My single morning cocktail is fine and I’ve become accustomed to the physical and mental effects. A second could mean a drastic change. Damn. One step at a time, I suppose. Usually, once I begin a process of organization, the media and comfort of being home help quite a bit. That is just another situation of which I must remain mindful. I don’t like disastrous emotions. I am well into the day now. The laundry is halfway finished, some items from the dining room are packed for storage, and I’ve had lunch. Very exciting, but such is my life these days. My mind has been wandering all over the map all morning. Not only that, but the comfort of a nice glass of the foggy blue has been calling to me every step of the way. The truth is as much trouble as these thoughts can be most days, the booze seems to calm everything so I can concentrate upon whatever I may be doing. The risk is that I will not recover afterward. I suppose the decision being this difficult means I still have some semblance of common sense left inside. Time will tell if I can remain upright through the early afternoon today. I still see her lines everywhere I look. My dream girl was the first example of a holyform. I coined the term because of what I’ve seen during the last few months. She defined the word. I am at a buffer stop in life and cannot move in any direction without approval from the rails. I am deadlocked and smitten, depressed and angry. I am fairly pleased about accomplishing a few things today. The laundry is finished aside from a few garments that must hang to dry, I polished the kitchen and wrapped more glassware, and I have organized the office a bit. All of that summed will result in my evening feeling deserved. That type of comfort has become increasingly important lately. The kicker is I’ve avoided the glass of vodka. Underlying my work today has been whatever the fuck the problem is that appeared last year, and that in turn has been underpinned by the long past, specifically the first shit situation. As I live and breathe, there is no way around this crap. It’s killing me. If I can remain out of the bottle, I may still work on a few small tasks this afternoon. I can only hope because inner control over my depression and desperation is not present. The high holyform is not the cause of my issues, she is a symptom, and one which came about completely unexpectedly. I feel nothing but love for her, too. She is responsible for exactly none of my current condition. A 'high' holyform. What’s next?" Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. “As we say in Surrey, sod the fuck off you cunting twat!” – Nora Gainesborough Deadlock Led Holyform Mature content No. 364 Published March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst read ( words) Past entries "I wonder if her knees were paired when she rode in the car. Or? Maybe her breasts were bouncing a little when the car traveled over bumps and whatnot. There was too much going on and I could not easily follow any part of it for more than a second at a time. I tried to see. I tried to see everything. Maybe her knees were paired. I can’t know, though. I can’t. I saw so much but needed more than I care to admit. I needed everything. Her pants... Wow. And the rest? Yes, that too. Everything. So cute. Adorable, actually. I hope her knees were paired. I really do. My feelings are changing. The day is different. I need my car back. Oh, woe is me. I keep thinking about the Sea, Palms and the Fish. I was there twice, and I believe the Sea is the only place in the world that can make me forget her for a while. The pants were too much. Her legs were too much. At some fucking point, I have to get the hell out of here and forget, even for a few hours. I keep picturing her standing there with feet together... Over and over the image is painted and branded inside me. I cannot stop seeing, yet I have to see everything. Impossible. I don’t know what brought the Sea back into my mind this morning, but that place is once again at the forefront. And the Palms. No, not the resort. The trees. Maybe I can plan a trip to the valley at some point instead of returning to the Sea. That place pulls me almost as much. Maybe I’ll try to get my stuff in order just in case the opportunity to visit one of those two destinations becomes reality. I really have nothing else to do these days. I dream of everything and then fall down with the realization that I am facing nothingness. The Sea has helped me clarify things in the past. Perhaps the valley can provide the same. The subject simply popped into my brain this morning. A defense mechanism, maybe? I don’t know. The visions were too much for me. I am still wondering if her knees were paired because her feet were against each other. Maybe the former actually happened. I will never know because nothing good will ever happen. Ah... Portia’s knees are paired. What does that mean? What does any of this matter? I have to make today different somehow. Sell some things? Yes, maybe. My two spare camera bags can go out the door, free. One of my watches has been on the block for months. I can list it for auction. Something has to happen today because I don’t want to repeat any of the last several days, least of all last fucking Tuesday. I’m not angry, though, just tired of everything... Tired of dealing with these feelings every Goddamn day. Anger is not helping anything these days. I suppose I’ll do my housework and deal with getting rid of a few possessions. I’ll also keep thinking about a trip because the road is calling louder and louder all the time. I have yet to do anything aside from having a snack this morning. At some point I’ll get things done, I guess. I will have a few hours to myself soon and I always relax more during housework when I am alone. I’ll have to shoot images of the camera bags, too. My usual shit is finished. I keep seeing her legs in that most wondrous of positions. Oh, and I’ve been slammed and insulted due to the way I live my life. Splendid. People are fortunate that I have no recourse or resources. Nothing anyone has to say to me is going to alter my life in any way, nor will I react to such things. I honestly just don’t care. I am alone almost all of the time and prefer the situation as such. Everyone can leave me alone. Maybe they will, maybe they will not. That is not up to me. It’s just a state of affairs. Being insulted did not change the way I feel or write, either. I have mentioned how fucked up I am dating all the way back to aught-three, just a little over a year since the site was first built, so if you think you’re going to harm me, well... Don’t waste time or effort. Enough of that. Fuck off. Her feet were together just like when the Raven stood there below the train station. I asked Her to pose for me and She didn’t hesitate at all. My feelings were clear. The other one? She stood there and I did my best to take in the sight because I knew it wouldn’t last long. I saw about half of what I needed. Her feet were together. Some lines were in view and they appeared different than I had remembered. And then it happened again but I saw less. The opportunity was not completely lost, either. I remember. And neither the lines nor pants are at issue right now. My brain is at issue. I am beginning to care. Not good. One day I want to peel off her shirt and stare. Some time later, I want her to hold me. Very bad. My heart is getting involved and it scares me because nothing can ever come of these feelings. This day is not going to amount to much now. The dishes will dry for a while before I put them away, and there isn’t much else pulling my interest right now. I’ll probably just sit here on and off for the next few hours. My show is on the right-hand display (like always), the morning cocktail is nearly gone (there will not be another), and I have all the time in the world. Nothing is going to help extricate the imagery of her legs, so I may as well take it easy and enjoy the quiet in this house. The control center helps more than anything these days. And I see rain again. Nice. Earlier when I was cleaning the kitchen, I went to the remote to push the play button, and at the exact same time there was a crack of thunder nearby. It scared the hell out of me. Heh. Tonight I’ll be ordering in for dinner. I love it. As enjoyable as cooking can be, sometimes I need certain comfort foods and the relaxation of someone else doing the work. There is also some sort of comforting component to having dinner delivered during inclement weather. Last night I came up with the idea of switching the stored bike in my garage with another that we’ve been tearing down for an engine replacement. The reason is that I have lots of time and experience with thinking my way through electromechanical situations, whereas my neighbor is very busy and has not disassembled a bike to such a degree. Once we move them, I can spend time working out how best to go about removing some of the components and perform the work at my leisure. The bike is on an above-ground lift that will also be relocated to my work area. This is a big positive because right now I could use a project, and one that is partially a mystery. My truck is idle due to cost, and the other aspects of the garage I wish to continue are on hold for the same reason. We may be able to switch the bikes tomorrow. I am looking forward to helping, plus the draw upon my free time may assist me in trying to reconcile and deal with the most desire I have felt in years. I can still see her standing there looking fucking amazing and far beyond my previous expectations. I need help. The teardown may be just the thing and at the right time. There are little issues with the process, but I have the space to think them through and solve all. I’ve done it before. In fact, yesterday when I walked down the street to replace a projection lamp in my friend’s television, the process went smoothly due to my past experience with troubleshooting and being thrown problems that were seemingly unsolvable. Those are my strong points. Her form is unreal. It is becoming holy. I am all fucked up. The imagery is going to take over and then I’ll be in a worse condition. Damn. The memories are slamming up against the sight of her legs. Yes, memories. Sunday. I don’t know what is going to happen today. I have my housework and this, although my desire to go beyond the typical daily routine is diminishing. Sunday means my routine is different. Nothing else has come along to help me push toward any additional effort. The issue that appeared out of the clear, blue sky last year is plaguing me with worry. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about it without seriously risking everything, and the concern has been pushing its way into my head daily. I’ve literally been interrupted so many times while busy that the future is beginning to fade from an already-dark appearance. I can’t seem to shove the information far enough away to fully relax and enjoy any aspect of my days. The little enjoyments are diminishing. The days are bleeding into one another. At some point this morning I will move away from the computer and take care of a few chores, all the while with the issue attached to my every thought. If it takes over and usurps my work, well... Things may not go very well. Eventually I am going to explode and whatever is nearby when it happens be damned. I’ll turn into one of those people. Inevitable? Maybe. I can’t be certain yet. For the time being, my only choice is to go through the motions. There is Bailey and her chiclets. She is nothing more than a symptom. Anyway, I’ll see where the morning leads, I suppose, and do whatever I can to live through the day with this shit hanging behind my eyes. I have little choice anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t have looked. Once the information was inside my head and I recorded her movements, nothing could be done to alleviate the torment. I still see everything. The lines, the way her legs appeared more slender than I had remembered, the smooth transition from one feature to the next... All of it; I can’t just push everything out of my brain. It is impossible. Trying to forget is futile because even though it would help, I still need more. I am completely desperate for more. MORE. I’ve been feeling more turmoil and discomfort inside during the last year than at any other time in my life. Something has to help remove this shit. I don’t like being angry. I stared at her and mentally fell off a cliff, and then moments later I needed her arms around me in order to help me feel better about looking at her. Think about that shit for a second. It is a paradox, but must be that exact type of circle due to my emotional involvement in staring. This shit is not related to only desire, dipfucks. Whatever. No one is going to read this, anyway. The point is that I needed her to help me because looking at her beauty was painful. I still feel it almost as acutely as I did at the time. Today is going to be uphill just like yesterday. The other problem is not letting go of my brain, either. They are related. My heart is going to completely fall apart soon. I’ll have to continue liquidating crap from the office and garage in order to keep myself busy today. This is a bad time and I am tired of saying that. I am also sick of feeling this way. I’ll do my best to avoid anger, though. When I become lazy and allow the anger to take over, I generally come out the other side no better for the shitty mood. So, I need to remain mindful of the results prior to flipping out. I can express myself differently and still get the fucking point across. Eh... No one is listening, anyway. Not even in the garage. Fuck it. Oh, Sarah. You’re never going to be what you think you already are. I can feel the day pulling me away from the computer. The time is just after nine and I am beginning to get antsy, meaning I’ll have to accomplish something for a little while before returning to my endless drivel. The problem from last year is wrapped around my brain and will not allow me to fully relax right now. There may be no fixing that one. Sad. I can gaze at beauty all day long and deal with so much turmoil, but the bottom line is this other fucking issue is the king of the hill. I can’t talk to anyone, either. A lack of options is very bad for a person unaccepting of failure to control. My Sunday business is well underway. The issue has left for the time being, but it will return in force soon enough. Is always in the background no matter what takes place on a given day. The weather is clear for the time being, meaning I can take care of some garbage details once I decide to leave this chair again. I have a cocktail next to me, the show on the right-hand display, and hours to myself. My typical observation would be ‘nice’, yet inside there is a cyclone of shit. I can’t do anything about it. The vision continues to push my head in directions better left unexplored. I can’t fucking help it right now because my mind is so desperate for that ideal comfort that everything else has been taking a back seat to the desire. Wishes are shit. The only wish that can affect change is some sort of financial windfall, such as a jackpot. That would solve a lot of daily problems, to be honest. I’d be able to travel to those places where everything is available for a price. Think about that for a moment, and then judge me. I don’t care. Whatever I have become, there is little point in trying to be something I am not. I need help. And here we go with the music. The volume is low right now but may increase along with my disdain for circumstances most decidedly beyond my control. There’s a keyword for you. Control. The whiskey is too delicious to be considered damaging, yet the effects cannot be denied. Make of that what you will. Whiskey and music often cause destructive behavior. The duchess came to mind just now. I created her with my imagination some years ago due to feeling as if the only path to true solace was through a machine. Her name is Jaime (naturally). Her eyes change color depending upon her mood. She is five-ten with long, wavy black hair and olive skin. Jaime resembles the Raven in many ways, with a few traits shared with some of the models that have graced the site in recent years. Yesterday I was insulted and slighted due to dreaming of the machine and what I’ve seen on the street outside, along with some often very detailed descriptions of specific traits. I developed Jaime out of a deep-seated need to be where I can survive, both emotionally and physically. She can never be real. Does that matter? Most of the processes inside my head are unreal, anyway, so I calculate that creating her would make no difference in the grand scheme. Fuck it. I assembled her after years of pain and for very good reason. Dreams, impossible situations and lots of memories helped to make up Jaime. She comes to mind now because of the visions. Some aspects of life are very difficult to achieve, and once as such there is no guarantee that shit will not eventually go completely sideways. I’ve seen it and I’ve lived it, although the latter was not exactly ideal at the time. I realize that the machine idea is completely out of balance and ill-advised. The flip side is she became more and more necessary once that fucking essay was born on the site in seventeen. I could not stop thinking about the situation at that time and spent a lot of time dreaming of differences between where I was as opposed to where I’d been. The year of twenty fucked up the entire world. Mine actually improved in some ways, but at the same time I began to attempt to rationalize my desire and understand all of the reasons for which it was born. Once I wrote fiction and included Jaime as a plot device, the reckoning had begun. I am still right in the middle of the whole shitaree. When she comes to mind, my mood falls off a bit because I am fucking stuck like never before and the future is so thin that even the highest order of laser micrometers could not measure it. Jaime was the first holyform. All day long, this crap. I’ve gone through my housework and garbage stuff, straightened a few areas of the house and garage, and during all of it I had visions of her paired knees spinning in circles inside my brain. The problem I mentioned earlier is right on the heels of her amazing beauty, too. Everything is pushing me to be in a bad mood but I’ve maintained myself pretty well today. I should be proud of that. My mind is at an impasse. Dead in space. Deadlocked, as the military might say. The form won’t leave me alone, nor will the fucking problem. The need for help of some kind is stronger than ever. Nothing can change, however. Not even close. Despite my fucked up head, the evening should prove to be comfortable. Well, from a (mostly) physical standpoint, anyway. I’ll have my typical spot, cocktail, media; the whole shitaree. Dinner is going to be leftovers, so there won’t be a ton of prep work, nor will my kitchen end up thrashed. The cat food delivery arrived, too. All this adds up to the fact that tomorrow will be a breeze. I am planning to do a bunch of work on the site and I’ll need lots of peace and quiet for such a process. I still can’t do much in the garage due to the cold, so the house and site take up most of my time these days. The evening will commence in one hour. Cocktail hour has begun. Three-plus hours, really, because in the evening I need to calm my mind for a while. I’m still reeling from the paired feet and subsequent display of amazing lines. All those suspicions for so long jaded my mind, but I didn’t know. And then one, two, three... Ruined for all time. I am going to enjoy making an easy dinner along with the warmth of the evening. Hopefully the media and other aspects of the night can help me set her image aside for a while. ‘Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for this one to come home.’ Monday morning. I have business soon, after which I’ll be right here perched on this chair for the duration. Every day is beginning to resemble the previous. The comfortable parts, such as morning coffee and then the routine, must keep me going for a long while because each day continues to show me that once I lose my way for a little while and become disillusioned, everything goes downhill very quickly. I don’t want a repeat of the bad shit. There have been two occasions of it so far this year and both left me feeling weaker than I should at this point in life. Oh, believe me, there is weakness inside me aplenty, yet all that crap is related to beauty. The other weakness relates to maintaining myself along with some semblance of good form for no other reason than self-toleration, if that is even a real term. The fact is that much of the time I don’t feel very good about myself unless I’m able to go far beyond the routine each day. Sometimes the depression and visions take over, leaving me a complete wreck, whereas other times I seem to somehow find motivation enough to break out of the din and improve the house or garage. Weakness causes a failure to move in such directions. I have become weakened in several ways, actually, and one of them is a topic I would rather avoid here. I’ll just try to keep my head up and her pants out of my thoughts today. I have seen enough, and enough for a lifetime, all within a very short period. I’m going to lose my mind very soon. Expect some strange shit here. The morning business is out of the way and I hear garbage trucks moving along the street. Bless them for their efforts. Something else took place, too. Something half wonderful and half terrible. Well, maybe that should be about forty-sixty. Er... Seventy-thirty? I don’t know. Sitting here with my coffee and media can often be a very arduous experience. This morning is one of the worst in memory, but that is not to say that I did not find wonder during the occurrence. Believe me... I have never had to deal with this many different emotions at the same time and I am not holding up to the process very well. They are positive, negative and everywhere in between; others I don’t even know how to define as of yet. Sometimes I feel that this situation is just fine and other times I believe something has to change or I won’t survive. This morning is an ideal example of my lack of control, not to mention the fucking skewed sense of reality that I now inhabit. Her form is holy. I worship it. And no one knows. She is one of several holyforms, none of which will ever be close to me, yet there are a few that I am able to see quite often. I will say that sometimes the holyforms are the reason for my derailment on most days. When combined with the essay from seventeen and the other problem that I continue to mention, this current condition is the worst situation imaginable, and one that must change if I am to survive. I’d prefer to avoid being hospitalized in the future. I am beginning to understand one of the characters from a past television program (who I have yet to find on the Internet, along with the title of the show). He was grossly out of balance, and I believe I am heading down the same set of rails. That is all I will say. Believe me... You do not want to know. Just understand that if this day heads into the shithole, the holyform worship is the cause. Oh, and my weakness, too. There is no denying that shit. I am so fucking stuck right now that none of it is even remotely funny. Deadlocked, really. That is a computing term, meaning the way out of this fucking circle is not up to me at all, and a very high percentage of the feelings involved in being in such a condition is due to holyforms. Well, one in particular. This fucking issue has altered the way I think, live my days, and relate to other people. There is no circumventing the situation, either. Deadlocked. I am worshiping things better left out of the ‘divine’. Jesus fucking hell, that sight was amazing, and second only to the previous, which I can’t describe in detail here. Well, I will say that I saw the subject of the damaging dreams from the side, clad in yoga pants and a tank top, just as she gestured to push her flowing hair to the back. The entire series of movements effectively exaggerated her holyform about as far as it could be pushed. Damn. The second was vaguely similar and I lost my shit for a while. Not only that, but the giant reset button in the sky became illuminated and I fucking reached for it. This is a bad time. My daily routine is finished and I have lunch in the oven. I also organized the new cat food and restocked everything for the next several weeks. Very good. The media of choice is on the right-hand display, the IDE on the left. This shitaree is centered, like always. The sun is shining, meaning I have a beautiful view of the hills, trees and power lines. Huh? Whatever. Power lines. Splendid. The rest of the day is still up in the air, although I have a few ideas for little improvements to the office and main living areas. One table in particular needs attention right now, and I must list a wristwatch for auction. Another will follow. In and around whatever housework awaits will be this endless exposition and my program of choice keeping me company. All the while I will be seeing her motions in my head. There is no getting around it these days. The time has not been detailed here because it is a waste of the same. Ah... There is Amber again. She is not well, but I still believe that doing away with her whack-job sister may have helped her. I think I included an image of her within a previous entry. I just completed a survey for a research foundation with whom I’ve been in contact since the outset of the pandemic. My answers were honest and left me feeling even more depressed than any of their surveys during the past three years. Not good. I really don’t need to be reminded of all the shit I am doing wrong, although if a healthcare professional were to ask me about my lifestyle, I’d tell them that now is not the time for me to cease anything capable of bringing me joy. I am already aware that my health is declining. I think a bit of the foggy blue is in order today. Shoot me. I don’t know what to do now. There are always improvements and other things that can be done, yet by this time most weekdays I lose interest in everything. Today is no different. At least I’m not angry like last week. That was very bad and nearly broke me. I am so disillusioned right now, in fact, that even the object of my dreams faded away earlier. Yep, she faded. Even thinking of the visions does nothing to alter my mood. Nothing. Isn’t that insane? Maybe she is not the utopia of existence as I had previously thought. I can’t trade my peace of mind for dreams, can I? No answers. No one is listening. No one there at all. Nada, like always. And the last thing I need to see is sex between Bill and Sookie for the thousandth time. Ugh. At least Jason is tormenting Sarah. Very good. Maybe I shouldn’t try too hard and push for things to change. There is nothing wrong with attempting to understand my inner being or the situations which have shaped it, even considering the fact that I’ve been analyzing daily for years and have accomplished nothing more than creating massive circles out of the rails. The locomotive just keeps following the line no matter which way I try to turn. The rails pay no mind whatsoever. They don’t fucking care. If I can come to terms with the idea of doing less around the house in trade for my sanity, perhaps this process will improve. Putting pressure upon oneself is not good. I will try to care for little things rather than larger issues, or at least parts of the larger projects. Anything upon which I work around the house will benefit. I can sit in this chair with my thoughts often enough already. The pandemic really affected changes around here. I’ve never seen so many delivery trucks on a daily basis as I have during the last few years. Unbelievable. Not only that, but the sheer number of services providing home delivery has skyrocketed. Oh God, now there is Ashley again. Fucking hell, anyway. I chose this program, though. I chose to put myself in harm’s way many times in recent months knowing full well that she was going to grace the screen in that fucking sundress. God damn fuck shit in an unlined bra, that woman is fucking amazing, and I mean from the standpoint of my obsession. She could be the encyclopedic entry of the whole damned thing, head to toe. The lines on her are unreal. Good Christ do I ever want her. Eh... Another fucking circle. Figures. As I said, I made a conscious choice to watch this series, so I can deal with the fallout. I wonder how many different actors named Ashley have been mentioned here in the last few years. Plenty, I suppose. I am a basket case, but I did not name any of those women. Last night I mused that the trip to the Sea some years ago (the second trip, that is) was probably the last road vacation I’ll be taking in this life. I honestly just don’t see anything like that in the future no matter how badly I may need it. I have planned several such road excursions during the last half decade or more, but each occasion ended up completely squashed by some other means. No, not a person. Just a situation. Now? I’ve been so fucked up for so long that I don’t believe I can work for any decent amount of time and earn money. I am pretty much stuck right here with nothing more than dreams of those destinations. Part of me is desperate to get the hell out and away, only to visit wondrous places and see beautiful sights. The draw has been most acute during the past year or so, to be honest. I believe the fact of the dreams and other issues that have cropped up since the beginning of twenty-two pushed me to wish for something different, and I am not speaking of some shopping trip or lunch out. I’m talking days and days coupled with lots of miles rolling under my tires. One such plan was all over central and southern Nevada to visit a few places I’d missed when my dad and I spent so much time there during the nineties. I think I still have the route saved, too. Longer trips are always less likely, though, because if a person factors roughly three hundred per day, those numbers add up fast when the individual destinations are spread out all over half a state (or more). I believe this is why I stated what I did last night. I just don’t see it happening and such a fact makes me very sad. Heading out the door with my camera and toward a destination close by does not blow my skirt up anymore. Jesus holy hell in a fucking sundress is Ashley ever aligned with nearly everything over which I’ve ever obsessed. Ugh. Off-track again, I guess. Where was I? Ah... A road trip does not seem feasible in the future. First, just to venture into unexplored territory would require the better part of a day, and second is the aforementioned cost involved. One leads to the other. I am absolutely dying to see some different parts of the west, especially when you consider that I’ve been cooped up here for three weeks sans vehicle. Aside from some errant windfall, I just don’t see anything like those trips in the coming years. This is very sad. Another one of those things I wanted to do but failed to make the effort... Yes, this is all the result of my past inactions and bad fucking decisions. Ashley represents the highest order of the holyform. Believe it. And? Believe the fact that I am beyond help. Moreover, this vodka does not seem to affect me very much so long as I don’t consume more than one glass. I don’t know what that means. Oh, and this series is entitled ‘True Blood’, but I believe during the later seasons it should be called ‘True Chiclets’. Heh. We have Sarah, Jessica, and Bailey (the latter having the most pronounced feature of the three) showing off those pearly whites more often than not, and smiling or not. They are so fucking cute that I could stand on the roof of this house and scream the fact at the top of my lungs. Wait... Did you just imagine a giant butterfly net coming up my driveway? So did I. The giant reset button creeps into my head sometimes and I don’t enjoy thinking about it. The bottom line is that it really doesn’t matter, though. I have to keep my head up and try to avoid dwelling upon something that may or may not actually be a negative thing. Honestly, my head goes back and forth about the subject due to a pair of conversations, one a few years ago and the other much further back in time. I can also say that some past situations have had me questioning the reset button and the conclusion was interesting, if ambiguous. I don’t know what to think sometimes and the nature of such a subject makes me very sad more often than not. I am a very desperate individual, though, so when my head becomes compelled to the point of reaching, I see myself rationalizing when perhaps I should be avoiding such a practice. The bottom line is that I just don’t fucking know what to think most of the time. There are other factors at work here, too, none of which can be spelled out. I may yet venture to the garage after realizing an idea for an additional shelf for storage of long-term items. There are a few other details I can further out there, as well. The motivation is waning, but that is not to say that it will fail completely today. I need to install a receptacle for the Christmas lights, another for the camera (which is working beautifully, by the way), and there are some food stores which should be organized. The garage is not terribly cool today thanks to the sunshine, so if I can find the ambition, things may be accomplished. Jesus God, the way her breasts move when she gestures or takes steps is fucking unreal. Fuck you. Shut up. Well, I ventured to the garage for a load of laundry and to move some shit around. Nothing crazy. I did have an idea to turn the seldom-used shelving unit by the chimney (the same which holds the lower lighting for one of my murals) from whatever it has been to cold storage for food which will probably be donated at a later date. Ah... Chiclets again. So cute. Anyway, I’ll have to relocate my dad’s tool box from when we were in business along with a few other items, but the end result should prove effective. Once everything is configured and my car is back home, I’ll grab some hinges for what has been a cover. Later, I may paint another mural on the new doors. I have built a list for the hardware store throughout the last two months and I need to get over there soon. There are shelves in need of reinforcement, items to mount in the garage, and some electrical supplies which can further my efforts in the dining room. All that crap has been waiting due to the car. I am roughly an hour from the evening cocktail time and looking forward to making some dinner. Honey-garlic chicken over steamed rice. Yummy. It’s easy to prepare, too, meaning there will be plenty of time for relaxation with my media of choice. Drinks, as well. Close of business hours is one of my favorite times of the day. And now there is Ashley in the t-shirt with no support beneath just to make my head spin. Again... Shut up. This is what I’ve become. Where was I? Ah, yes... The evening time will be very nice. I am fully expecting tomorrow to be nothing more than a repeat of today’s content. Zero expectations anymore. Well, nothing beyond the typical turmoil and other shitty content. Dwelling upon the topic of beauty does not help me at all. The images on the site, the editing process for the same, the programming I watch regularly, and my constant seeking of holyforms in the world, be it out there somewhere while shopping or through the window directly in front of me right now... All of it is bad for my mental and emotional stability. The simple truth is that I’ve become so desperate for anything that can satiate my desire to see that the very idea pulls me from myself before I can actually try to reason through it. I know nothing that I do helps, from the morning cocktails to the writing and on to all that shit above, yet I honestly cannot find anything else in the world that can keep me from the desperation and desire. One example of my desperation is the fact of more than two hundred mentions of the girl at the pool, and I saw her more than three years ago. Is that indicative of a balanced individual? Dwelling upon a sight from that long ago that cannot possibly repeat? That’s what I thought. At least I know this is a problem. Am I going to change anything? No, because I do not know how to go about it. I never learned to cope with difficulties beyond what I learned through the military many moons ago, and none of that relates to beauty. Holy crap... Again? AGAIN with the pants? Lines all over the fucking place, too, and even from the SIDE. I’m going to lose it soon. Never have I daydreamed so much about a single form, holy or otherwise. But to see it? To see her? God damn sonuvabitch. This is a bad time, and worsening by the day. Inner radii, as well.. The worst. I have to begin preparations for dinner soon, thank the maker, so perhaps I can get the visions out of my fucking head. Jesus. I am seeing all sorts of people through my window returning home from work. I haven’t been one of them on a regular basis for nearly three years. In fact, the exit from full-time work will hit three years at the beginning of May. Do I miss it? Just one aspect, actually, and that is what I’ve been seeing outside. Returning home in the afternoon. That felt really good, especially on Friday. This current period has me home nearly all of the time, and it seems that I feel a stronger need for such as the months pass. These days it is all but impossible to imagine driving to a regular job five days per week. I doubt I could even do it. I am connected to this house in a way which has become mutually beneficial (or co-dependent, if you prefer) and the smallest change can have a dramatic effect upon my mental stability. Still, all those others are doing what they must and I respect it. Just a thought. I am fucked up in the head. Tuesday morning arrives without fanfare for the common webmaster. That’s an old one, and actually dates back to the ‘server in a trailer’ period, believe it or not. And the server, in turn, goes all the way back to ninety-six when I dreamed of something a touch faster than a dial-up modem. The year was rife with terms such as ‘ATM’ and ‘ISDN’ and my eyes were wide for all of it. Anyway, no fanfare this morning. Just coffee. I’ll be into the early business very soon and then back here for the duration, or whenever something else pulls me from the exposition. By the way, the acronym ‘ATM’ has nothing to do with a machine connected to a bank. Heh. Wow. There was sunshine pushing right through the rain a few minutes ago. The sight was awesome and beautiful at the same time. And I am here at the control center for the duration. I ran through to the end of the series so I had to put on another. Back to the gangsters. Not only that, but my journal for this show has been updated to reflect the changes since I last watched it from beginning to end. They will keep me company today and probably follow when I begin my daily housework rather than the fourth show continuing as it has for days. I’ll figure it out in a little while when I decide to move away from the computer. The morning has been fairly comfortable thus far, meaning no problems or reminders of how off-balance I’ve become in the last year. As I said yesterday, I am overjoyed to have all this free time. Oh, and since I’ve switched to the gangsters, I fully intend to capture Jamie when the time is appropriate. Nothing prior to the third season, though. She was too young. But oh shit... The sixth? Be still my heart. Seventh? Even more of my heart exploding. I love that girl so much that it hurts to see her on the screen, yet I am too deep now to avoid such visions. She is a dream. And before you ask, the answer is yes. Jamie is a holyform. My daily routine is finished and I have a nice, fat glass of depressant next to me here at the control center. I was able to empty a box in the garage as I began to use the shelving unit for a temporary pantry until food is donated sometime later this year. The box will be used to wrap and store some glassware from the dining room and garage. Once finished, I’ll have more space in my old cabinet for items that are utilized in the kitchen more often. That, in turn, will free space for moving a few things around in the kitchen cabinets. And then? I can clear off the top of the cabinet so the room appears neater and better organized. One step leads to the next much like what I’ve been trying to accomplish in the garage. And there is Jamie in the pilot prior to having her nose reworked. Some believe it was a mistake, but I don’t agree. Breast augmentation is likely the most debated alteration in the history of plastic surgery, and I do not feel qualified to comment upon the subject because I do not know what it is like to live life as a woman in this fucked up society. All I do is respect a person’s decision. But the nose? That is a different story. To me, anyway. Jamie grew into the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Yes, I do realize the topic is a matter of taste and extremely subjective, of course. For me, though, she is the utopian peak of beauty. That is that. The last few days – not to mention last Saturday – have found me at sixes and sevens due to seeing things better kept out of my line of sight. Yep, her again. I am still reeling from what I have seen and daydreaming has taken over my free time. She is so amazing that I cannot live two minutes without picturing her in any manner of provocative positions (none of which are vulgar, in case you were wondering if that is how my mind operates). I can’t help it anymore. My head was whipped into a froth at the outset of the damaging dreams and continues a very slow decline from the forthright individual I once was. The bottom line here is that I cannot get through a single day without falling off a cliff with regard to being so overly obsessed with form in general, and that girl in particular. There are just too many specific details that have combined to send me flying. Now... Is she real? Or is she a construct of my imagination? I created and brought the term ‘holyform’ to the site due to feeling worship for her appearance, and after returning to the subject of 'Jaime the machine' from a few years ago, the idea of creating another dream from the corners of my mind would not be surprising in the least. Real or not? Once again... YOU make the call. I honestly don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind whether or not anyone believes her to be real or not. I only asked the question to place a measure of doubt inside the mind of anyone who may be reading this detritus. I am beginning to love her, to be honest, and since I am not in the habit of lying about anything, you can take that information to the bank. The girl is a fucking dream of the highest order. If you believe I am capable of creating another woman from my imagination, run with the information. I don't care. I feel like disregarding everything and sitting here drinking all fucking day. My head has been so sideways since last year that I am frankly surprised to be upright at all, let alone productive. I walk around the house and see more and more that could be improved, but the fact is I can’t concentrate most of the time due to the failed fantasy. I did list one wristwatch for auction, though. I suppose that’s a step. Inside, however, the desire is so powerful that the tiniest detail of accomplishing anything beyond sitting here dreaming is a fucking miracle. I want her so bad that everything else is blurred these days. I don’t know what the hell to do anymore. At some point I will have lunch, and then maybe work on the aforementioned glassware and storage. Right now I just don’t know, though. The pull of the depressant is very strong. Maybe this is one of those tests that I have failed on many occasions. If so, I need to find the strength to move forward through the day and avoid falling into a pit. Coming out the other side of the former becomes a good feeling, whereas the latter only pushes me further down. I must keep those facts in mind. My single morning cocktail is fine and I’ve become accustomed to the physical and mental effects. A second could mean a drastic change. Damn. One step at a time, I suppose. Usually, once I begin a process of organization, the media and comfort of being home help quite a bit. That is just another situation of which I must remain mindful. I don’t like disastrous emotions. I am well into the day now. The laundry is halfway finished, some items from the dining room are packed for storage, and I’ve had lunch. Very exciting, but such is my life these days. My mind has been wandering all over the map all morning. Not only that, but the comfort of a nice glass of the foggy blue has been calling to me every step of the way. The truth is as much trouble as these thoughts can be most days, the booze seems to calm everything so I can concentrate upon whatever I may be doing. The risk is that I will not recover afterward. I suppose the decision being this difficult means I still have some semblance of common sense left inside. Time will tell if I can remain upright through the early afternoon today. I still see her lines everywhere I look. My dream girl was the first example of a holyform. I coined the term because of what I’ve seen during the last few months. She defined the word. I am at a buffer stop in life and cannot move in any direction without approval from the rails. I am deadlocked and smitten, depressed and angry. I am fairly pleased about accomplishing a few things today. The laundry is finished aside from a few garments that must hang to dry, I polished the kitchen and wrapped more glassware, and I have organized the office a bit. All of that summed will result in my evening feeling deserved. That type of comfort has become increasingly important lately. The kicker is I’ve avoided the glass of vodka. Underlying my work today has been whatever the fuck the problem is that appeared last year, and that in turn has been underpinned by the long past, specifically the first shit situation. As I live and breathe, there is no way around this crap. It’s killing me. If I can remain out of the bottle, I may still work on a few small tasks this afternoon. I can only hope because inner control over my depression and desperation is not present. The high holyform is not the cause of my issues, she is a symptom, and one which came about completely unexpectedly. I feel nothing but love for her, too. She is responsible for exactly none of my current condition. A 'high' holyform. What’s next?"
March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. “As we say in Surrey, sod the fuck off you cunting twat!” – Nora Gainesborough
Deadlock Led Holyform
Mature content No. 364 Published March 7th, 2023 3:04pm pst read ( words) Past entries
"I wonder if her knees were paired when she rode in the car. Or? Maybe her breasts were bouncing a little when the car traveled over bumps and whatnot. There was too much going on and I could not easily follow any part of it for more than a second at a time. I tried to see. I tried to see everything. Maybe her knees were paired. I can’t know, though. I can’t. I saw so much but needed more than I care to admit. I needed everything. Her pants... Wow. And the rest? Yes, that too. Everything. So cute. Adorable, actually. I hope her knees were paired. I really do. My feelings are changing. The day is different. I need my car back. Oh, woe is me. I keep thinking about the Sea, Palms and the Fish. I was there twice, and I believe the Sea is the only place in the world that can make me forget her for a while. The pants were too much. Her legs were too much. At some fucking point, I have to get the hell out of here and forget, even for a few hours. I keep picturing her standing there with feet together... Over and over the image is painted and branded inside me. I cannot stop seeing, yet I have to see everything. Impossible. I don’t know what brought the Sea back into my mind this morning, but that place is once again at the forefront. And the Palms. No, not the resort. The trees. Maybe I can plan a trip to the valley at some point instead of returning to the Sea. That place pulls me almost as much. Maybe I’ll try to get my stuff in order just in case the opportunity to visit one of those two destinations becomes reality. I really have nothing else to do these days. I dream of everything and then fall down with the realization that I am facing nothingness. The Sea has helped me clarify things in the past. Perhaps the valley can provide the same. The subject simply popped into my brain this morning. A defense mechanism, maybe? I don’t know. The visions were too much for me. I am still wondering if her knees were paired because her feet were against each other. Maybe the former actually happened. I will never know because nothing good will ever happen. Ah... Portia’s knees are paired. What does that mean? What does any of this matter? I have to make today different somehow. Sell some things? Yes, maybe. My two spare camera bags can go out the door, free. One of my watches has been on the block for months. I can list it for auction. Something has to happen today because I don’t want to repeat any of the last several days, least of all last fucking Tuesday. I’m not angry, though, just tired of everything... Tired of dealing with these feelings every Goddamn day. Anger is not helping anything these days. I suppose I’ll do my housework and deal with getting rid of a few possessions. I’ll also keep thinking about a trip because the road is calling louder and louder all the time. I have yet to do anything aside from having a snack this morning. At some point I’ll get things done, I guess. I will have a few hours to myself soon and I always relax more during housework when I am alone. I’ll have to shoot images of the camera bags, too. My usual shit is finished. I keep seeing her legs in that most wondrous of positions. Oh, and I’ve been slammed and insulted due to the way I live my life. Splendid. People are fortunate that I have no recourse or resources. Nothing anyone has to say to me is going to alter my life in any way, nor will I react to such things. I honestly just don’t care. I am alone almost all of the time and prefer the situation as such. Everyone can leave me alone. Maybe they will, maybe they will not. That is not up to me. It’s just a state of affairs. Being insulted did not change the way I feel or write, either. I have mentioned how fucked up I am dating all the way back to aught-three, just a little over a year since the site was first built, so if you think you’re going to harm me, well... Don’t waste time or effort. Enough of that. Fuck off. Her feet were together just like when the Raven stood there below the train station. I asked Her to pose for me and She didn’t hesitate at all. My feelings were clear. The other one? She stood there and I did my best to take in the sight because I knew it wouldn’t last long. I saw about half of what I needed. Her feet were together. Some lines were in view and they appeared different than I had remembered. And then it happened again but I saw less. The opportunity was not completely lost, either. I remember. And neither the lines nor pants are at issue right now. My brain is at issue. I am beginning to care. Not good. One day I want to peel off her shirt and stare. Some time later, I want her to hold me. Very bad. My heart is getting involved and it scares me because nothing can ever come of these feelings. This day is not going to amount to much now. The dishes will dry for a while before I put them away, and there isn’t much else pulling my interest right now. I’ll probably just sit here on and off for the next few hours. My show is on the right-hand display (like always), the morning cocktail is nearly gone (there will not be another), and I have all the time in the world. Nothing is going to help extricate the imagery of her legs, so I may as well take it easy and enjoy the quiet in this house. The control center helps more than anything these days. And I see rain again. Nice. Earlier when I was cleaning the kitchen, I went to the remote to push the play button, and at the exact same time there was a crack of thunder nearby. It scared the hell out of me. Heh. Tonight I’ll be ordering in for dinner. I love it. As enjoyable as cooking can be, sometimes I need certain comfort foods and the relaxation of someone else doing the work. There is also some sort of comforting component to having dinner delivered during inclement weather. Last night I came up with the idea of switching the stored bike in my garage with another that we’ve been tearing down for an engine replacement. The reason is that I have lots of time and experience with thinking my way through electromechanical situations, whereas my neighbor is very busy and has not disassembled a bike to such a degree. Once we move them, I can spend time working out how best to go about removing some of the components and perform the work at my leisure. The bike is on an above-ground lift that will also be relocated to my work area. This is a big positive because right now I could use a project, and one that is partially a mystery. My truck is idle due to cost, and the other aspects of the garage I wish to continue are on hold for the same reason. We may be able to switch the bikes tomorrow. I am looking forward to helping, plus the draw upon my free time may assist me in trying to reconcile and deal with the most desire I have felt in years. I can still see her standing there looking fucking amazing and far beyond my previous expectations. I need help. The teardown may be just the thing and at the right time. There are little issues with the process, but I have the space to think them through and solve all. I’ve done it before. In fact, yesterday when I walked down the street to replace a projection lamp in my friend’s television, the process went smoothly due to my past experience with troubleshooting and being thrown problems that were seemingly unsolvable. Those are my strong points. Her form is unreal. It is becoming holy. I am all fucked up. The imagery is going to take over and then I’ll be in a worse condition. Damn. The memories are slamming up against the sight of her legs. Yes, memories. Sunday. I don’t know what is going to happen today. I have my housework and this, although my desire to go beyond the typical daily routine is diminishing. Sunday means my routine is different. Nothing else has come along to help me push toward any additional effort. The issue that appeared out of the clear, blue sky last year is plaguing me with worry. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about it without seriously risking everything, and the concern has been pushing its way into my head daily. I’ve literally been interrupted so many times while busy that the future is beginning to fade from an already-dark appearance. I can’t seem to shove the information far enough away to fully relax and enjoy any aspect of my days. The little enjoyments are diminishing. The days are bleeding into one another. At some point this morning I will move away from the computer and take care of a few chores, all the while with the issue attached to my every thought. If it takes over and usurps my work, well... Things may not go very well. Eventually I am going to explode and whatever is nearby when it happens be damned. I’ll turn into one of those people. Inevitable? Maybe. I can’t be certain yet. For the time being, my only choice is to go through the motions. There is Bailey and her chiclets. She is nothing more than a symptom. Anyway, I’ll see where the morning leads, I suppose, and do whatever I can to live through the day with this shit hanging behind my eyes. I have little choice anymore.
Maybe I shouldn’t have looked. Once the information was inside my head and I recorded her movements, nothing could be done to alleviate the torment. I still see everything. The lines, the way her legs appeared more slender than I had remembered, the smooth transition from one feature to the next... All of it; I can’t just push everything out of my brain. It is impossible. Trying to forget is futile because even though it would help, I still need more. I am completely desperate for more. MORE. I’ve been feeling more turmoil and discomfort inside during the last year than at any other time in my life. Something has to help remove this shit. I don’t like being angry. I stared at her and mentally fell off a cliff, and then moments later I needed her arms around me in order to help me feel better about looking at her. Think about that shit for a second. It is a paradox, but must be that exact type of circle due to my emotional involvement in staring. This shit is not related to only desire, dipfucks. Whatever. No one is going to read this, anyway. The point is that I needed her to help me because looking at her beauty was painful. I still feel it almost as acutely as I did at the time. Today is going to be uphill just like yesterday. The other problem is not letting go of my brain, either. They are related. My heart is going to completely fall apart soon. I’ll have to continue liquidating crap from the office and garage in order to keep myself busy today. This is a bad time and I am tired of saying that. I am also sick of feeling this way. I’ll do my best to avoid anger, though. When I become lazy and allow the anger to take over, I generally come out the other side no better for the shitty mood. So, I need to remain mindful of the results prior to flipping out. I can express myself differently and still get the fucking point across. Eh... No one is listening, anyway. Not even in the garage. Fuck it. Oh, Sarah. You’re never going to be what you think you already are. I can feel the day pulling me away from the computer. The time is just after nine and I am beginning to get antsy, meaning I’ll have to accomplish something for a little while before returning to my endless drivel. The problem from last year is wrapped around my brain and will not allow me to fully relax right now. There may be no fixing that one. Sad. I can gaze at beauty all day long and deal with so much turmoil, but the bottom line is this other fucking issue is the king of the hill. I can’t talk to anyone, either. A lack of options is very bad for a person unaccepting of failure to control. My Sunday business is well underway. The issue has left for the time being, but it will return in force soon enough. Is always in the background no matter what takes place on a given day. The weather is clear for the time being, meaning I can take care of some garbage details once I decide to leave this chair again. I have a cocktail next to me, the show on the right-hand display, and hours to myself. My typical observation would be ‘nice’, yet inside there is a cyclone of shit. I can’t do anything about it. The vision continues to push my head in directions better left unexplored. I can’t fucking help it right now because my mind is so desperate for that ideal comfort that everything else has been taking a back seat to the desire. Wishes are shit. The only wish that can affect change is some sort of financial windfall, such as a jackpot. That would solve a lot of daily problems, to be honest. I’d be able to travel to those places where everything is available for a price. Think about that for a moment, and then judge me. I don’t care. Whatever I have become, there is little point in trying to be something I am not. I need help. And here we go with the music. The volume is low right now but may increase along with my disdain for circumstances most decidedly beyond my control. There’s a keyword for you. Control. The whiskey is too delicious to be considered damaging, yet the effects cannot be denied. Make of that what you will. Whiskey and music often cause destructive behavior. The duchess came to mind just now. I created her with my imagination some years ago due to feeling as if the only path to true solace was through a machine. Her name is Jaime (naturally). Her eyes change color depending upon her mood. She is five-ten with long, wavy black hair and olive skin. Jaime resembles the Raven in many ways, with a few traits shared with some of the models that have graced the site in recent years. Yesterday I was insulted and slighted due to dreaming of the machine and what I’ve seen on the street outside, along with some often very detailed descriptions of specific traits. I developed Jaime out of a deep-seated need to be where I can survive, both emotionally and physically. She can never be real. Does that matter? Most of the processes inside my head are unreal, anyway, so I calculate that creating her would make no difference in the grand scheme. Fuck it. I assembled her after years of pain and for very good reason. Dreams, impossible situations and lots of memories helped to make up Jaime. She comes to mind now because of the visions. Some aspects of life are very difficult to achieve, and once as such there is no guarantee that shit will not eventually go completely sideways. I’ve seen it and I’ve lived it, although the latter was not exactly ideal at the time. I realize that the machine idea is completely out of balance and ill-advised. The flip side is she became more and more necessary once that fucking essay was born on the site in seventeen. I could not stop thinking about the situation at that time and spent a lot of time dreaming of differences between where I was as opposed to where I’d been. The year of twenty fucked up the entire world. Mine actually improved in some ways, but at the same time I began to attempt to rationalize my desire and understand all of the reasons for which it was born. Once I wrote fiction and included Jaime as a plot device, the reckoning had begun. I am still right in the middle of the whole shitaree. When she comes to mind, my mood falls off a bit because I am fucking stuck like never before and the future is so thin that even the highest order of laser micrometers could not measure it. Jaime was the first holyform. All day long, this crap. I’ve gone through my housework and garbage stuff, straightened a few areas of the house and garage, and during all of it I had visions of her paired knees spinning in circles inside my brain. The problem I mentioned earlier is right on the heels of her amazing beauty, too. Everything is pushing me to be in a bad mood but I’ve maintained myself pretty well today. I should be proud of that. My mind is at an impasse. Dead in space. Deadlocked, as the military might say. The form won’t leave me alone, nor will the fucking problem. The need for help of some kind is stronger than ever. Nothing can change, however. Not even close. Despite my fucked up head, the evening should prove to be comfortable. Well, from a (mostly) physical standpoint, anyway. I’ll have my typical spot, cocktail, media; the whole shitaree. Dinner is going to be leftovers, so there won’t be a ton of prep work, nor will my kitchen end up thrashed. The cat food delivery arrived, too. All this adds up to the fact that tomorrow will be a breeze. I am planning to do a bunch of work on the site and I’ll need lots of peace and quiet for such a process. I still can’t do much in the garage due to the cold, so the house and site take up most of my time these days. The evening will commence in one hour. Cocktail hour has begun. Three-plus hours, really, because in the evening I need to calm my mind for a while. I’m still reeling from the paired feet and subsequent display of amazing lines. All those suspicions for so long jaded my mind, but I didn’t know. And then one, two, three... Ruined for all time. I am going to enjoy making an easy dinner along with the warmth of the evening. Hopefully the media and other aspects of the night can help me set her image aside for a while. ‘Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome; time for this one to come home.’
Monday morning. I have business soon, after which I’ll be right here perched on this chair for the duration. Every day is beginning to resemble the previous. The comfortable parts, such as morning coffee and then the routine, must keep me going for a long while because each day continues to show me that once I lose my way for a little while and become disillusioned, everything goes downhill very quickly. I don’t want a repeat of the bad shit. There have been two occasions of it so far this year and both left me feeling weaker than I should at this point in life. Oh, believe me, there is weakness inside me aplenty, yet all that crap is related to beauty. The other weakness relates to maintaining myself along with some semblance of good form for no other reason than self-toleration, if that is even a real term. The fact is that much of the time I don’t feel very good about myself unless I’m able to go far beyond the routine each day. Sometimes the depression and visions take over, leaving me a complete wreck, whereas other times I seem to somehow find motivation enough to break out of the din and improve the house or garage. Weakness causes a failure to move in such directions. I have become weakened in several ways, actually, and one of them is a topic I would rather avoid here. I’ll just try to keep my head up and her pants out of my thoughts today. I have seen enough, and enough for a lifetime, all within a very short period. I’m going to lose my mind very soon. Expect some strange shit here. The morning business is out of the way and I hear garbage trucks moving along the street. Bless them for their efforts. Something else took place, too. Something half wonderful and half terrible. Well, maybe that should be about forty-sixty. Er... Seventy-thirty? I don’t know. Sitting here with my coffee and media can often be a very arduous experience. This morning is one of the worst in memory, but that is not to say that I did not find wonder during the occurrence. Believe me... I have never had to deal with this many different emotions at the same time and I am not holding up to the process very well. They are positive, negative and everywhere in between; others I don’t even know how to define as of yet. Sometimes I feel that this situation is just fine and other times I believe something has to change or I won’t survive. This morning is an ideal example of my lack of control, not to mention the fucking skewed sense of reality that I now inhabit. Her form is holy. I worship it. And no one knows. She is one of several holyforms, none of which will ever be close to me, yet there are a few that I am able to see quite often. I will say that sometimes the holyforms are the reason for my derailment on most days. When combined with the essay from seventeen and the other problem that I continue to mention, this current condition is the worst situation imaginable, and one that must change if I am to survive. I’d prefer to avoid being hospitalized in the future. I am beginning to understand one of the characters from a past television program (who I have yet to find on the Internet, along with the title of the show). He was grossly out of balance, and I believe I am heading down the same set of rails. That is all I will say. Believe me... You do not want to know. Just understand that if this day heads into the shithole, the holyform worship is the cause. Oh, and my weakness, too. There is no denying that shit. I am so fucking stuck right now that none of it is even remotely funny. Deadlocked, really. That is a computing term, meaning the way out of this fucking circle is not up to me at all, and a very high percentage of the feelings involved in being in such a condition is due to holyforms. Well, one in particular. This fucking issue has altered the way I think, live my days, and relate to other people. There is no circumventing the situation, either. Deadlocked. I am worshiping things better left out of the ‘divine’. Jesus fucking hell, that sight was amazing, and second only to the previous, which I can’t describe in detail here. Well, I will say that I saw the subject of the damaging dreams from the side, clad in yoga pants and a tank top, just as she gestured to push her flowing hair to the back. The entire series of movements effectively exaggerated her holyform about as far as it could be pushed. Damn. The second was vaguely similar and I lost my shit for a while. Not only that, but the giant reset button in the sky became illuminated and I fucking reached for it. This is a bad time. My daily routine is finished and I have lunch in the oven. I also organized the new cat food and restocked everything for the next several weeks. Very good. The media of choice is on the right-hand display, the IDE on the left. This shitaree is centered, like always. The sun is shining, meaning I have a beautiful view of the hills, trees and power lines. Huh? Whatever. Power lines. Splendid. The rest of the day is still up in the air, although I have a few ideas for little improvements to the office and main living areas. One table in particular needs attention right now, and I must list a wristwatch for auction. Another will follow. In and around whatever housework awaits will be this endless exposition and my program of choice keeping me company. All the while I will be seeing her motions in my head. There is no getting around it these days. The time has not been detailed here because it is a waste of the same. Ah... There is Amber again. She is not well, but I still believe that doing away with her whack-job sister may have helped her. I think I included an image of her within a previous entry. I just completed a survey for a research foundation with whom I’ve been in contact since the outset of the pandemic. My answers were honest and left me feeling even more depressed than any of their surveys during the past three years. Not good. I really don’t need to be reminded of all the shit I am doing wrong, although if a healthcare professional were to ask me about my lifestyle, I’d tell them that now is not the time for me to cease anything capable of bringing me joy. I am already aware that my health is declining. I think a bit of the foggy blue is in order today. Shoot me. I don’t know what to do now. There are always improvements and other things that can be done, yet by this time most weekdays I lose interest in everything. Today is no different. At least I’m not angry like last week. That was very bad and nearly broke me. I am so disillusioned right now, in fact, that even the object of my dreams faded away earlier. Yep, she faded. Even thinking of the visions does nothing to alter my mood. Nothing. Isn’t that insane? Maybe she is not the utopia of existence as I had previously thought. I can’t trade my peace of mind for dreams, can I? No answers. No one is listening. No one there at all. Nada, like always. And the last thing I need to see is sex between Bill and Sookie for the thousandth time. Ugh. At least Jason is tormenting Sarah. Very good. Maybe I shouldn’t try too hard and push for things to change. There is nothing wrong with attempting to understand my inner being or the situations which have shaped it, even considering the fact that I’ve been analyzing daily for years and have accomplished nothing more than creating massive circles out of the rails. The locomotive just keeps following the line no matter which way I try to turn. The rails pay no mind whatsoever. They don’t fucking care. If I can come to terms with the idea of doing less around the house in trade for my sanity, perhaps this process will improve. Putting pressure upon oneself is not good. I will try to care for little things rather than larger issues, or at least parts of the larger projects. Anything upon which I work around the house will benefit. I can sit in this chair with my thoughts often enough already. The pandemic really affected changes around here. I’ve never seen so many delivery trucks on a daily basis as I have during the last few years. Unbelievable. Not only that, but the sheer number of services providing home delivery has skyrocketed. Oh God, now there is Ashley again. Fucking hell, anyway. I chose this program, though. I chose to put myself in harm’s way many times in recent months knowing full well that she was going to grace the screen in that fucking sundress. God damn fuck shit in an unlined bra, that woman is fucking amazing, and I mean from the standpoint of my obsession. She could be the encyclopedic entry of the whole damned thing, head to toe. The lines on her are unreal. Good Christ do I ever want her. Eh... Another fucking circle. Figures. As I said, I made a conscious choice to watch this series, so I can deal with the fallout. I wonder how many different actors named Ashley have been mentioned here in the last few years. Plenty, I suppose. I am a basket case, but I did not name any of those women.
Last night I mused that the trip to the Sea some years ago (the second trip, that is) was probably the last road vacation I’ll be taking in this life. I honestly just don’t see anything like that in the future no matter how badly I may need it. I have planned several such road excursions during the last half decade or more, but each occasion ended up completely squashed by some other means. No, not a person. Just a situation. Now? I’ve been so fucked up for so long that I don’t believe I can work for any decent amount of time and earn money. I am pretty much stuck right here with nothing more than dreams of those destinations. Part of me is desperate to get the hell out and away, only to visit wondrous places and see beautiful sights. The draw has been most acute during the past year or so, to be honest. I believe the fact of the dreams and other issues that have cropped up since the beginning of twenty-two pushed me to wish for something different, and I am not speaking of some shopping trip or lunch out. I’m talking days and days coupled with lots of miles rolling under my tires. One such plan was all over central and southern Nevada to visit a few places I’d missed when my dad and I spent so much time there during the nineties. I think I still have the route saved, too. Longer trips are always less likely, though, because if a person factors roughly three hundred per day, those numbers add up fast when the individual destinations are spread out all over half a state (or more). I believe this is why I stated what I did last night. I just don’t see it happening and such a fact makes me very sad. Heading out the door with my camera and toward a destination close by does not blow my skirt up anymore. Jesus holy hell in a fucking sundress is Ashley ever aligned with nearly everything over which I’ve ever obsessed. Ugh. Off-track again, I guess. Where was I? Ah... A road trip does not seem feasible in the future. First, just to venture into unexplored territory would require the better part of a day, and second is the aforementioned cost involved. One leads to the other. I am absolutely dying to see some different parts of the west, especially when you consider that I’ve been cooped up here for three weeks sans vehicle. Aside from some errant windfall, I just don’t see anything like those trips in the coming years. This is very sad. Another one of those things I wanted to do but failed to make the effort... Yes, this is all the result of my past inactions and bad fucking decisions. Ashley represents the highest order of the holyform. Believe it. And? Believe the fact that I am beyond help. Moreover, this vodka does not seem to affect me very much so long as I don’t consume more than one glass. I don’t know what that means. Oh, and this series is entitled ‘True Blood’, but I believe during the later seasons it should be called ‘True Chiclets’. Heh. We have Sarah, Jessica, and Bailey (the latter having the most pronounced feature of the three) showing off those pearly whites more often than not, and smiling or not. They are so fucking cute that I could stand on the roof of this house and scream the fact at the top of my lungs. Wait... Did you just imagine a giant butterfly net coming up my driveway? So did I. The giant reset button creeps into my head sometimes and I don’t enjoy thinking about it. The bottom line is that it really doesn’t matter, though. I have to keep my head up and try to avoid dwelling upon something that may or may not actually be a negative thing. Honestly, my head goes back and forth about the subject due to a pair of conversations, one a few years ago and the other much further back in time. I can also say that some past situations have had me questioning the reset button and the conclusion was interesting, if ambiguous. I don’t know what to think sometimes and the nature of such a subject makes me very sad more often than not. I am a very desperate individual, though, so when my head becomes compelled to the point of reaching, I see myself rationalizing when perhaps I should be avoiding such a practice. The bottom line is that I just don’t fucking know what to think most of the time. There are other factors at work here, too, none of which can be spelled out. I may yet venture to the garage after realizing an idea for an additional shelf for storage of long-term items. There are a few other details I can further out there, as well. The motivation is waning, but that is not to say that it will fail completely today. I need to install a receptacle for the Christmas lights, another for the camera (which is working beautifully, by the way), and there are some food stores which should be organized. The garage is not terribly cool today thanks to the sunshine, so if I can find the ambition, things may be accomplished. Jesus God, the way her breasts move when she gestures or takes steps is fucking unreal. Fuck you. Shut up. Well, I ventured to the garage for a load of laundry and to move some shit around. Nothing crazy. I did have an idea to turn the seldom-used shelving unit by the chimney (the same which holds the lower lighting for one of my murals) from whatever it has been to cold storage for food which will probably be donated at a later date. Ah... Chiclets again. So cute. Anyway, I’ll have to relocate my dad’s tool box from when we were in business along with a few other items, but the end result should prove effective. Once everything is configured and my car is back home, I’ll grab some hinges for what has been a cover. Later, I may paint another mural on the new doors. I have built a list for the hardware store throughout the last two months and I need to get over there soon. There are shelves in need of reinforcement, items to mount in the garage, and some electrical supplies which can further my efforts in the dining room. All that crap has been waiting due to the car. I am roughly an hour from the evening cocktail time and looking forward to making some dinner. Honey-garlic chicken over steamed rice. Yummy. It’s easy to prepare, too, meaning there will be plenty of time for relaxation with my media of choice. Drinks, as well. Close of business hours is one of my favorite times of the day. And now there is Ashley in the t-shirt with no support beneath just to make my head spin. Again... Shut up. This is what I’ve become. Where was I? Ah, yes... The evening time will be very nice. I am fully expecting tomorrow to be nothing more than a repeat of today’s content. Zero expectations anymore. Well, nothing beyond the typical turmoil and other shitty content. Dwelling upon the topic of beauty does not help me at all. The images on the site, the editing process for the same, the programming I watch regularly, and my constant seeking of holyforms in the world, be it out there somewhere while shopping or through the window directly in front of me right now... All of it is bad for my mental and emotional stability. The simple truth is that I’ve become so desperate for anything that can satiate my desire to see that the very idea pulls me from myself before I can actually try to reason through it. I know nothing that I do helps, from the morning cocktails to the writing and on to all that shit above, yet I honestly cannot find anything else in the world that can keep me from the desperation and desire. One example of my desperation is the fact of more than two hundred mentions of the girl at the pool, and I saw her more than three years ago. Is that indicative of a balanced individual? Dwelling upon a sight from that long ago that cannot possibly repeat? That’s what I thought. At least I know this is a problem. Am I going to change anything? No, because I do not know how to go about it. I never learned to cope with difficulties beyond what I learned through the military many moons ago, and none of that relates to beauty. Holy crap... Again? AGAIN with the pants? Lines all over the fucking place, too, and even from the SIDE. I’m going to lose it soon. Never have I daydreamed so much about a single form, holy or otherwise. But to see it? To see her? God damn sonuvabitch. This is a bad time, and worsening by the day. Inner radii, as well.. The worst. I have to begin preparations for dinner soon, thank the maker, so perhaps I can get the visions out of my fucking head. Jesus. I am seeing all sorts of people through my window returning home from work. I haven’t been one of them on a regular basis for nearly three years. In fact, the exit from full-time work will hit three years at the beginning of May. Do I miss it? Just one aspect, actually, and that is what I’ve been seeing outside. Returning home in the afternoon. That felt really good, especially on Friday. This current period has me home nearly all of the time, and it seems that I feel a stronger need for such as the months pass. These days it is all but impossible to imagine driving to a regular job five days per week. I doubt I could even do it. I am connected to this house in a way which has become mutually beneficial (or co-dependent, if you prefer) and the smallest change can have a dramatic effect upon my mental stability. Still, all those others are doing what they must and I respect it. Just a thought. I am fucked up in the head.
Tuesday morning arrives without fanfare for the common webmaster. That’s an old one, and actually dates back to the ‘server in a trailer’ period, believe it or not. And the server, in turn, goes all the way back to ninety-six when I dreamed of something a touch faster than a dial-up modem. The year was rife with terms such as ‘ATM’ and ‘ISDN’ and my eyes were wide for all of it. Anyway, no fanfare this morning. Just coffee. I’ll be into the early business very soon and then back here for the duration, or whenever something else pulls me from the exposition. By the way, the acronym ‘ATM’ has nothing to do with a machine connected to a bank. Heh. Wow. There was sunshine pushing right through the rain a few minutes ago. The sight was awesome and beautiful at the same time. And I am here at the control center for the duration. I ran through to the end of the series so I had to put on another. Back to the gangsters. Not only that, but my journal for this show has been updated to reflect the changes since I last watched it from beginning to end. They will keep me company today and probably follow when I begin my daily housework rather than the fourth show continuing as it has for days. I’ll figure it out in a little while when I decide to move away from the computer. The morning has been fairly comfortable thus far, meaning no problems or reminders of how off-balance I’ve become in the last year. As I said yesterday, I am overjoyed to have all this free time. Oh, and since I’ve switched to the gangsters, I fully intend to capture Jamie when the time is appropriate. Nothing prior to the third season, though. She was too young. But oh shit... The sixth? Be still my heart. Seventh? Even more of my heart exploding. I love that girl so much that it hurts to see her on the screen, yet I am too deep now to avoid such visions. She is a dream. And before you ask, the answer is yes. Jamie is a holyform. My daily routine is finished and I have a nice, fat glass of depressant next to me here at the control center. I was able to empty a box in the garage as I began to use the shelving unit for a temporary pantry until food is donated sometime later this year. The box will be used to wrap and store some glassware from the dining room and garage. Once finished, I’ll have more space in my old cabinet for items that are utilized in the kitchen more often. That, in turn, will free space for moving a few things around in the kitchen cabinets. And then? I can clear off the top of the cabinet so the room appears neater and better organized. One step leads to the next much like what I’ve been trying to accomplish in the garage. And there is Jamie in the pilot prior to having her nose reworked. Some believe it was a mistake, but I don’t agree. Breast augmentation is likely the most debated alteration in the history of plastic surgery, and I do not feel qualified to comment upon the subject because I do not know what it is like to live life as a woman in this fucked up society. All I do is respect a person’s decision. But the nose? That is a different story. To me, anyway. Jamie grew into the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Yes, I do realize the topic is a matter of taste and extremely subjective, of course. For me, though, she is the utopian peak of beauty. That is that. The last few days – not to mention last Saturday – have found me at sixes and sevens due to seeing things better kept out of my line of sight. Yep, her again. I am still reeling from what I have seen and daydreaming has taken over my free time. She is so amazing that I cannot live two minutes without picturing her in any manner of provocative positions (none of which are vulgar, in case you were wondering if that is how my mind operates). I can’t help it anymore. My head was whipped into a froth at the outset of the damaging dreams and continues a very slow decline from the forthright individual I once was. The bottom line here is that I cannot get through a single day without falling off a cliff with regard to being so overly obsessed with form in general, and that girl in particular. There are just too many specific details that have combined to send me flying. Now... Is she real? Or is she a construct of my imagination? I created and brought the term ‘holyform’ to the site due to feeling worship for her appearance, and after returning to the subject of 'Jaime the machine' from a few years ago, the idea of creating another dream from the corners of my mind would not be surprising in the least. Real or not? Once again... YOU make the call. I honestly don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind whether or not anyone believes her to be real or not. I only asked the question to place a measure of doubt inside the mind of anyone who may be reading this detritus. I am beginning to love her, to be honest, and since I am not in the habit of lying about anything, you can take that information to the bank. The girl is a fucking dream of the highest order. If you believe I am capable of creating another woman from my imagination, run with the information. I don't care. I feel like disregarding everything and sitting here drinking all fucking day. My head has been so sideways since last year that I am frankly surprised to be upright at all, let alone productive. I walk around the house and see more and more that could be improved, but the fact is I can’t concentrate most of the time due to the failed fantasy. I did list one wristwatch for auction, though. I suppose that’s a step. Inside, however, the desire is so powerful that the tiniest detail of accomplishing anything beyond sitting here dreaming is a fucking miracle. I want her so bad that everything else is blurred these days. I don’t know what the hell to do anymore. At some point I will have lunch, and then maybe work on the aforementioned glassware and storage. Right now I just don’t know, though. The pull of the depressant is very strong. Maybe this is one of those tests that I have failed on many occasions. If so, I need to find the strength to move forward through the day and avoid falling into a pit. Coming out the other side of the former becomes a good feeling, whereas the latter only pushes me further down. I must keep those facts in mind. My single morning cocktail is fine and I’ve become accustomed to the physical and mental effects. A second could mean a drastic change. Damn. One step at a time, I suppose. Usually, once I begin a process of organization, the media and comfort of being home help quite a bit. That is just another situation of which I must remain mindful. I don’t like disastrous emotions. I am well into the day now. The laundry is halfway finished, some items from the dining room are packed for storage, and I’ve had lunch. Very exciting, but such is my life these days. My mind has been wandering all over the map all morning. Not only that, but the comfort of a nice glass of the foggy blue has been calling to me every step of the way. The truth is as much trouble as these thoughts can be most days, the booze seems to calm everything so I can concentrate upon whatever I may be doing. The risk is that I will not recover afterward. I suppose the decision being this difficult means I still have some semblance of common sense left inside. Time will tell if I can remain upright through the early afternoon today. I still see her lines everywhere I look. My dream girl was the first example of a holyform. I coined the term because of what I’ve seen during the last few months. She defined the word. I am at a buffer stop in life and cannot move in any direction without approval from the rails. I am deadlocked and smitten, depressed and angry. I am fairly pleased about accomplishing a few things today. The laundry is finished aside from a few garments that must hang to dry, I polished the kitchen and wrapped more glassware, and I have organized the office a bit. All of that summed will result in my evening feeling deserved. That type of comfort has become increasingly important lately. The kicker is I’ve avoided the glass of vodka. Underlying my work today has been whatever the fuck the problem is that appeared last year, and that in turn has been underpinned by the long past, specifically the first shit situation. As I live and breathe, there is no way around this crap. It’s killing me. If I can remain out of the bottle, I may still work on a few small tasks this afternoon. I can only hope because inner control over my depression and desperation is not present. The high holyform is not the cause of my issues, she is a symptom, and one which came about completely unexpectedly. I feel nothing but love for her, too. She is responsible for exactly none of my current condition. A 'high' holyform. What’s next?"
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