Another Fuckin' Intermission? Mature content No. 391 Published August 11th, 2023 3:47pm pdt read ( words) Past entries "Eh... I don’t know what to say anymore. Tuesday is here. What does it mean? Nothing, really. The most important aspect of the morning is all of the free time I have ahead of me. Intermission is most decidedly NOT over. 1149. I went to the market and saw something which destroyed the inside of my head. Thank Christ I was not closer than fifty feet. The resulting pain would have most likely caused me to consider the final solution and the way my mind has changed in the space of roughly fourteen months. I can’t fucking think about the change right now. I just can’t. I simply could not believe what I was seeing, suffice to say that by the time I entered the market to shop, the rest of the world melted away and I finished my trip with all haste. Jesus, I wish I had not seen her. Very bad. I can honestly say that I have never felt as fucked up in fifty-plus years as I do right now. That is not a joke, nor am I overstating the case. This is so bad that the little daily enjoyments are going to have to work harder to hold me up and keep me out of the fucking soil. Wednesday is here. In a little while I have to drive someone to the City, return home, and then wait for the call to pick up. The drives will break up my day a bit, but should be out of the way by noon or so. I shall be overjoyed when today’s responsibilities are finished. Overjoyed. I prefer driving when I feel like it rather than at the request of others, yet this situation is something I simply must do for them. Time will pass and I’ll be home soon enough, though. As I said before, anything outside my typical realm helps to ensure I appreciate being home nearly all of the time. I should be leaving the house in twenty-two minutes. Thursday has landed on my porch with nary a concern for my well-being. The day just shows up as if someone ordered it from the menu, when the opposite is typically true. There are positives today, however, beginning with the fact that I do not have to leave this house at all, quite the reverse of yesterday. Another is having all of my daily devices in place to help ensure my comfort while home. I guess that’s it for now. The driving yesterday really took its toll, so being able to take it easier today will help. The operation of dropoff and pickup comprised roughly six hours, including one hour here during the mid-morning so I could take care of some business, and then more time spent waiting in the City before we were free to drive back. Ooh-fa, that was a lot of time spent in the car and two different rooms at the hospital. I knew at the time that if I could focus upon today and knowing all the bullshit was behind me, the day would pass as it should. I was right, and here I sit in an improved frame of mind (mostly). Holy Jesus fucking hell is Nora ever stunning. Wow. I love her, just like the other two. Ugh. Leave it. Another problem popped up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon and I was in no position to record my thoughts. I simply had to remain upright and hold it together, but inside me was another cyclone of imagery, memories and loss. Since there is never any recourse, the result was nothing more than another lost rung on the ladder of life. I was all over the City yesterday and saw absolutely nothing, only to return home to something I really don’t need to see, yet at the same time I am desperate for more. This is very bad and I don’t know what to do. I’ll finish the coffee soon and then distract myself from the dire feelings inside, knowing the entire time that everything is either fake or merely on the surface. Depth cannot be explored here for too many reasons to list. The bottom line is that I desire her way too much to remain balanced and there is nothing I can do about it (like so many other situations in recent years). I will see her again and fall down. Each occasion destroys another small part of me. One day there will be nothing left. I don’t know how long these intermissions will go on. The other story is still on hold because I can’t find the muse and feel like shit all the fucking time. I have fallen prey to the squishing and routing for too long to consider any recovery as feasible. There is only one direction from here. All I can do is transmit my thoughts through the keyboard and try to find ways of enjoying some comfort. Everything will end soon enough. Hadley is adorable but her face is too round. The other one? The faerie? Don’t get me started. 1009. I am overjoyed to be home today, especially considering the severely truncated amount of free time I had yesterday. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a nice fat cocktail sitting here on the table. My brain has been inside the fictional nether regions of certain individuals and I can’t seem to stop the process. Yes, I said fictional. Think of the two machines from my stories. Fictional. Unreal. Mechanical. Just what I need every fucking minute of every fucking day. This will never stop, either, because there has been far too much damage for me to entertain any notion of reality fulfilling my needs and dreams. The doorstep will never darken. The recourse does not exist. The fantasy failed years ago. The sinful realm rules all too often and I can’t do anything about it. There have been entirely too many strikes, from the iniquitous to the evil. I still worship fervently, yet the truth is no one knows, meaning said worship does not matter. My feelings no longer matter. ‘I think I no longer matter’. You don’t know the song, but I do. Intimately. There is Nora again. One of the three. If I could just enter the story that is the third show, all of this could be negated within minutes. Otherwise? The downward trajectory continues. At least some of the housework is finished. Salome is about to make a huge mistake, bless her dead soul. You wanna talk about beautiful breasts? Holy bleeding fuck in an unlined bra... She isn’t real. Maybe instead of the third series, I can venture into the realm of the faeries. Some of them are unbelievably well-formed. Ugh. This situation just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. For reasons of good form, I need to repeat the exchange from the current program: 'Eller was right, you fucking prick, and you just got him killed!' ‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ The day’s ambition is waning. I’ll probably restrict my work to the office for the duration. I can list another auction and straighten this room, and then perhaps spend some time considering the long story that has fallen partially by the wayside. I can’t have that because the narrative is far too important to my frame of mind. I don’t speak out loud; I must speak with my keyboard. And speaking of speaking, I see Deborah as a person, whereas Jessica is an object. Interesting. I am not a bad person, just one who has been thrust into a terrible place by the actions and words of others. Believe it, motherfucks. Oh, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and I realize some of this shit is my own fault, but not everything. No fucking way. Routed. Squished. Disregarded. This is why I find it so difficult to find ambition. There is too much damage inside for me to swing my mood to more productive and positive places. As the days pass, the slide will continue. I pray the slope never increases, but at the same time such a circumstance is wholly expected. I have to maintain the facade for the benefit of others because my little slices of comfort require such bullshit. I’ve become very adept at appearing as if at least some of me is ok. The hour is still fairly early. Plenty of time to do whatever seems best. Hoyt is in a bad way right now. Too bad, because he was one of the most balanced characters until Jessica tossed him aside. I guess I can’t blame Hoyt for acting out because I’ve done it on several occasions, the last of which was less than a week ago and I still regret my behavior. I am only human, but that seems no good excuse anymore. Every now and again I become angry and decide to ‘swing the hammer’, leaving my head full of remorse more often than not. I am angry right now, too. The idea of lashing out feels right. I have learned otherwise, though. Nothing I do while angry is going to change the situation. The typical result is me feeling as if I either spoke too much or perhaps realizing that I am helpless in this life. The Ifrit is about to cause a circumstance which leads to the dialog I mentioned above. It’s supposed to be frightening, too, but anymore all I do is laugh at the exchange. In order to bridge this stupid shit to the on-hold story, watching the media play on the right-hand display reminds me of the second door. And yes, I now realize it was a fucking door, so don’t give me a blast of shit. Actors. Production people. Cameras of the most wondrous type. Editing. Beauty. Film. Yep... Film. I already know what Julia is going to say. Anyway, I must state that after yesterday’s hours of driving and my broken-up time at home, today is a Godsend. I really needed peace and quiet today. I needed it almost as much as I currently need... Never mind. The pain never goes away. Pain inside and outside. Pain in my head and elsewhere. I am beginning to believe that there is not a fucking soul who cares. You may already know what can result from such a position in life. Sometimes when I see her, desperate words fly through my head. During other times, I recall past situations in which I was exactly where I needed to be. And further? I believe that the one little compartment inside my brain that continues to calculate the external results of suicide is at war with my intentions and dreams. I guess there is still some part of me that hopes for a change. When that part is gone, all is lost. I have the means. The doors must return soon. I never felt any desire toward Pam. Interesting. Maybe I’ve identified with her need to be ‘turned’ to the point of respecting such a decision, and the image of her five-nine stance, bulging breasts and full lips melted away because I knew that her desperation was a match to mine. Rather than wishing to be all over her skin, I wanted to free myself from the shackles of this fucking sordid life and vicariously experienced it through Pam achieving what she needed. I cannot, meaning when I see her beauty on the screen, all I can feel is respect for her decision to die. I still can’t make the same decision. I can’t fucking do it. Not right now. Believe me, the sheer amount of inner strength and restraint required in dealing with other people these days is almost enough to break me in half. I closed the garage door. Very exciting. Sometimes I don’t want others to know that I am ‘available’ for pleasant conversation. Nothing currently playing out inside my head is pleasant. Trust me. Friday morning, 0811. Everything may go sideways very soon. I don’t know yet, but maybe. The early business is out of the way and I have hours to myself, thank the maker. A dream shortly before I woke has me gripped by the past and seeing a face I’ve not considered for a very long time. She was beautiful, staring at me with tearful eyes, and had answered a question I asked a moment earlier. And then everything hit me in the face and I remember it all. Damn it. I guess I’ll have to deal with her memory for a while. Our relationship in reality was not as I felt in the dream, yet her answer to my question pretty much cemented the way she felt for decades. I feel pretty fucking bad right now even though none of it really happened. Maybe the subject is supposed to help me learn something, like the doors. One certainty is that she was definitely not a door, but the lesson could be tertiary. I have to take some time and consider the past again. The desperate words from yesterday are still running in circles. Treading? I don’t know. There are missing pieces to consider which have now been exacerbated by the dream. Just what I needed. Thanks, world. And you can fuck right off. I made nice yesterday afternoon but I don’t see it happening today. I just can’t right now. The fact is the more I have to hold the facade and be completely full of shit, the more tiresome the days become. The feeling has been increasing lately, too. I can’t do anything about this, either. I just have to sit on everything as if I am constantly pounding sand on the beach. Going nowhere, just as I had predicted years ago. There is plenty I can do around the house and garage, anyway. I do not want to be unkind, meaning I’ll have to remain unavailable to avoid being forced into a stance that makes me very uncomfortable. I also saw that girl again yesterday which does not help. And another? Yep... I ventured to my neighbor’s garage to look at some oil pans and caught a square sight of something very special across the street, and from an angle to which I am not accustomed due to the angle of the court with respect to this house. She was fucking amazing and I stared the entire time as she strolled up the driveway. Jesus. Combined with seeing the other one, the best path today may be to remain indoors and keep my brain out of harm’s way. That means zero socializing. I’m too tired to sit here and be pleasant while very damaging images and words fly through my head. I’m just too fucking tired for more of that. I need a break. And I think my printer of twelve years took a crap. Damn. 1032. Routine? Finished. Cocktail? Fuck yes. I don’t feel very well this morning. What’s wrong? No idea. I made the decision to remain in the house all day, too. My car needs fuel prior to the City drive tomorrow, so I’ll fill the tank early tomorrow morning rather than going out today. My head is in a bad way yet again. A disastrous morning always leaves me sans ambition. Everything is just shit right now. I am in no mood to deal with other people, so remaining indoors seems like the best idea for me as well as them. ‘Brother, I want to...’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Nora.’ Aw geez... That’s one of the great loves of my life you’re disrespecting there, buddy. Go easy, please. Anyway... Nora has the prime facial trait, much like what’s-her-name in all those Hallmark movies. What is it? I’ll remember soon enough. The point is such a trait makes my heart bleed, to be honest. I see Nora’s beautiful face and melt into a puddle of goo every fucking time. Ah... It’s Lacey. Both faces are very pronounced and I still don’t know why such an appearance drives me to experience so much emotion. The trait has never been a physical thing, either. Other feelings are much more important. I just wish I could understand why. I believe the girl in the dream this morning opened yet another door to the past and left me very emotional to begin with, and then adding Nora’s face to the pile only served to leave me completely heeled over for the umpteenth time. I really didn’t need that fucking dream, damn it. I love Jolene, Jamie and Nora almost equally, a fact which is very telling of my current condition. I can’t keep saying I am grossly out of balance because it’s nowhere near enough. Jolaimora. You may be wondering about the spelling, seeing as how I transposed Jamie and Jaime years ago and had to go back and correct several essays. Well, the reasoning behind the name ‘Jaime’ being a part of the combination is due to two different factors from the beginning of the pandemic, just over three years ago. One is the name I attached to the images from San Diego – which was born of the fictional Jaime (the machine, remember?) – and the other grew from that unknown woman. Jaime was the name I attached to my desperate, ridiculous and fruitless search for ‘her’. Hence, Jolaimora. And keep in mind that I am in love with fictional characters, not real people. I don’t know them and don’t need to. I could go into how all this shit relates to the third show, but I already look bad enough. Additional descriptions are unnecessary. You may already know, anyway. I am so far out of fucking balance that sometimes when I think about ending up this way I can barely put things together in my head. And? Only Nora has the prime trait. One of three. I can’t see the CD changer girl anymore, the rollercoaster girl has a very different face, and the race girl was even more distant from the typical darkness that I find so attractive. I am quite certain that the CD changer girl did not share Nora’s beautiful trait. This is all so fucking insane. Fictional characters. Hmm. I believe such feelings are about as unhealthy as possible. Nora is wearing leather pants that show off her lines. I don’t love her because of the lines. The face is always first. I’ve seen some fucking unreal lines and dimensions which defy the mind, yet all too often there is a face atop everything that is frightening for one reason or another; sometimes several reasons at the same time or combined. Nora just happens to have one of the most unique faces I’ve ever seen. Good God... At least I don’t feel that the situation and my feelings are unfair. That would be stupid. I know the ways of the world and what I am. Um... I am no one at all. And Nora is the main topic because she’s in the program I’ve been following for the last few weeks. That will change. One more time for accentuation and posterity... Reality is for shit and I am in love with fictional characters. Read that ten times and then calculate what must be happening inside my broken brain. Go for it. And keep in mind that only some of what I feel ends up here. Most of the shit is still hidden away for safety. Some of what goes on inside would land me in very bad places. Believe it. On the other side of things, I see that the other Jamie (Danielle is the character’s name) is in this and the next several episodes. She is in stark contrast to Nora in that I’d like to lick all the parts of her that are covered in clothing. Is that bad? Does saying such a thing narrow the vision of readers? Are you offended? It’s just a desire. A very strong desire, but only desire nonetheless. Most of those types of feelings remain hidden within most people and I have evidenced the gradient. I’ve seen and heard it. So, if I sit here and see Jamie on the screen and physically desire such a woman, what does that make me? Exactly... Just a person with feelings. Go fuck yourself. And remember... There are two Jamies in this entry. One is all about love. The other? Sex. Live with it. Have I successfully conveyed the way I feel about Nora? Probably not. Nothing is ever enough. Are you sick and tired of hearing it? There will be more. As I said... Nothing can ever be enough. Nothing. The word pervades my life. Help granny make the bed. I am losing my mind a bit more each day. I can feel pieces of my brain falling away like wet cake in a rainstorm. Marvelous. 1132. My drink is nearly gone. The plan is to return to the kitchen and put away the dishes and such, and then have some leftovers for lunch. Once everything is finished, I’m going to head to the garage and unbox a bunch of things that were dropped off months ago from her parents’ house. I would like to have the garage streamlined a bit more. The dinner plan will begin in about two hours because I’m making some ‘porcupine’ meatballs in the slow cooker, meaning I need to have them assembled and browned prior to 1400. They will be accompanied by fried potatoes because I have apparently become an expert with the preparation and cooking of the same. I like preparing dinner early because by the time the evening arrives, there is very little to do. Moreover, I can thrash the kitchen during the day and have everything cleaned up prior to the relaxation. Oh my fucking God... Nora is so far beyond beautiful that I have to invent words for an adequate description. Holy shit... Here comes Lilith, all five-ten of her frame and a pair of eyes that are darker than anything else imaginable. Am I a basket case? Yep. I’ve never denied such. Anyway, The kitchen work will be accompanied by the third show, just like earlier this morning. I love those people. They are my family. In addition, the knife that I am going to list for auction is enjoying new batteries for the digital display functions and its built-in flashlight. I’ll have to capture some nice images and then list it later today, perhaps after the slow cooker is operating. Considering all of the issues in my head and heart, I am forever thankful for the time and space to care for whatever is necessary for the smooth operation of the household. I still don’t know when the story of the doors will continue. I need to feel it, and right now all I feel is loss. Hopefully, the dinner preparations and housework will help to calm my head enough to find my muse. Pause for the cause. 1400 straight up is what I see on the little clocks. The meatballs are in the slow cooker and the kitchen has been cleaned again. There will be one more dish prepared in the next hour, and that is a salad, the type of which will be much more flavorful after melding in the fridge for a few hours. Closer to dinner time, I’ll fry some potatoes as the second side dish. For right now, though, I need to be off my feet for a little bit. My back is beginning to suffer. I saw her again, all beautiful flowing hair and yoga pants. For reasons of good form along with some faux medicinal purposes (read: weakness), I have a lovely glass of the foggy blue sitting here next to the keyboard. After gazing at her again, I need something... Well, you know. Anyway, aside from the aforementioned salad and slicing of taters, I’ll be relaxing for the remainder of the afternoon. I won’t even get into seeing Nora for the third time today. Too much. Seeing her is not good for me but I cannot avoid looking and dreaming. This is what I have become after all of the sentient weaponry, squishing, and the like. I have been affected too much to cease gazing at that beauty when she is within view (it’s rare). And I don’t know what the fuck is with the faeries sometimes, but in the present scene there are six and every one of them is aligned with the information with which I’ve been obsessed for decades. Every Goddamned one of them, no shit. I am not kidding. The side view of two of them walking at a normal pace is staggering to the mind. Sometimes this series is crap, but during other times it is a wonderland of lines and beauty. Mostly the former, though. Whatever. Where was I? Ah... The girl I see on occasion. This neighborhood has its fair share of picturesque forms, believe me, but the girl in question tends to stand out much of the time. At least what I saw today was not as bad as the last occasion. I think my eyes almost blew right the fuck out of my skull that day. Jesus. My head is so fucked up that the sheer need to see whatever I can is overpowering and interrupts whatever else may be happening at the time. I am desperate to see more, too. None of this shit is going to change for the better. Do I feel pain when I see her? Oh, yes. Plenty. Do I look anyway? Of course. I don’t know how else to live anymore. Call me whatever you wish. None of it could be worse than the words swirling inside my head right now. When I refer to the ‘damaging’ dreams, well... Just trust me. There is far more desire inside my brain than what slides off this keyboard. Oh, Nora. Please hold me and make all the bad go away. Please... Just hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I love you. Holy God... You wanna talk about a unique face? She is unbelievable and I can never say enough. There are times when my heart swells for her to the point of pushing Jamie down a notch. Does anyone care? Nope. Go on with your own shit and forget me. Guess what? Nora is on the screen again, wearing a gorgeous black blouse and sporting impeccable makeup. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? I don’t care. I feel what I feel and very little of it is based in reality. The truth is the real world has hurt me far too much for consideration, the past years and fantasy worlds easily taking priority over said pain. I could live inside Nora’s fucking hair forever and not need anything more. Just imagine the scent in there... Shut up. ‘Take that off, remove the other one, and then put the first piece back on. Now just stand there for a few minutes while I try to understand what I am seeing. Quarter turn to the left. Stop. Thank you.’ 1734. Everything is finished. Dinner will be a simple affair thanks to my early efforts in the kitchen. This is the type of evening that I enjoy, too. Work throughout the day adds up to less work as the dinner hour approaches. Very nice. I just wish my head was as organized as the housework. The au pair went by a little while ago and waved to me like always. I’m really glad she doesn’t know what goes through my brain when she smiles in my direction. It’s best no one knows. Maybe she would hold me and tell me all those things I so badly need to hear. Eh... Maybe not. Everything along such lines is nothing more than a series of pipe dreams. Saturday morning is here. In an hour I have to drive to the City and back, as has become the custom for the last few weekends. I don’t mind, honestly, but would prefer to go as early as possible. Today we won’t be leaving until about 0830. Whatever. Upon returning, I’ll be nice and comfortable like yesterday. Nora is looking stunning this morning in a purple dress, and I rarely like dresses. She could be in a burlap sack and still outshine almost everyone else in the world. Anyway, I took care of a decent amount of business yesterday, so maybe today I can get around to trimming the front tree some more. Perhaps I can work on the bike again, too. I really need to get things organized out there for my own peace of mind. Dinner ended up being really good last night so I am planning to reheat the leftovers for tonight. Sometimes I can’t get the image of her out of my head, and other times it is more of a ‘situation’ commanding my attention. She pulls me away from myself with all haste. The past does at times, too, but those are memories and long gone, whereas she is real and nearby on occasion. Either those two topics ruin my ability to get through a typical day, or a third pops into mind for whatever reason – mostly everything that has been lost – and derails me for hours on end. I have recently learned that lashing out solves nothing and no longer feels good. I have also realized that my anger can lead nowhere and usually turns right back on me. Nothing helps and since I have no recourse for these powerful feelings, at some point I believe I will have to put an end to everything. ‘Bottled-in a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession.’ I have become a mere fraction of what I once achieved in life, only some of which is carried within. The rest was external. The more I think about everything, the angrier I become, and then I feel like lashing out in some random direction. The problem is, I already know nothing will change, so I end up just sitting here stewing about everything and my insides become very uncomfortable. My life has become nothing more than an impossible conundrum, one which is tearing me up inside. One of the three will slam me at some point each day. Yesterday there was a horrible lack of understanding that led me to and then through disaster, all the while those fucking smiling faces were floating about as if to taunt me and cement my disappointment in life. No matter what kind of enjoyment I can squeeze out of a given day, my mood will undoubtedly be tripped up sooner or later and leave me more depressed than the previous day. The little enjoyments continue to shrink. The symptoms will not leave me alone, ever. I don’t fucking see the reasoning here. Days roll over me like a piece of farm equipment, and as they do I see more and more, yet understand less and less. I don’t see any of this changing unless I force the issue, but if and when I decide to put the kibosh to such a huge lack of understanding, I won’t be able to do anything, ever. Does that mean I have hope? YOU make the call. Same Saturday. The time is now 1639, as if it matters anymore. I trimmed the front tree more with the help of my neighbor’s saw, took care of the usual daily business, had lunch, but I don’t know what to do with the rest of the afternoon. I’ve been spinning my wheels for the last hour or so. Finding the story’s direction again seems a world away these days. There are chiclets on the screen a la Jessica and her never-ending eyelashes. Whatever. I am so lost. Nora is wearing purple. This is no way to live. I keep saying something must happen, but what? I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this shit, either. Patience is finite. Well, I hadn’t much of that to begin with, so use your imagination. ‘I choose you.’ Um, ok. That’s fine. ‘I choose you.’ Nope, sorry. You already chose Bill over Salome. ‘I choose you.’ Again... Too late. Third try. It ain’t gonna be Nora. ‘I choose you.’ Nice try, princess. After three failures, the odds don’t favor Kibwe, either. Heh. I am still pissed off, but that sequence is funny. And don’t get me started on the fantastic Jessica Clark and her bloody skin. Sunday. The feelings overtake me too often. Years ago, I did not become distraught every single day. The issue was more like a small breakdown that took place on occasion, and usually only during serious downtime. I did not become overly tormented or lost when I saw something. Now, keep in mind during that period I nearly threw everything into the wind to be where I needed (for the third time) and recovering from such feelings took quite a bit of time. Some of it never went away, to be honest, but at least when I tried to relax and enjoy myself, the required effort to do so was nowhere near as great as during the present time. I did not dwell as much because circumstances were very different. Well, things continued to change and eventually became so truncated that I did not see any way around actually losing my mind. I still can’t go into specifics here, damn it, or everything would be pretty damned clear. I lost my way yesterday for quite a while and eventually forced the issue in order to earn the evening. So far this morning, I am heading in the same direction and beginning to believe that last week’s incident was a real line in life, one which has been moved behind me and disallows going backward to feel better about everything. I am moving along this year just as I expected... Saying the same things over and over in different ways, trying to understand why the world has to be as it is, and realizing that no matter what I write (or do) or how bad I feel, I will never find the ears. They probably don’t even exist. Well, the ears have been there for me in the past and I’ve already gone over that shit in spades. When I say ‘don’t exist’, what I mean is they can no longer be there for yours truly. I just have to fucking lump it. Every Goddamn day. I feel this every Goddamn day without fail. I become driven to understand why the torment is so powerful and then come up with an empty sack. I see imagery in my head – some from fictional entertainment, a bit due to beauty that’s been close to home, and others from my real past – and sit here trying to put the feelings of loss into words. My tools are important to me, as are the camera and my computers. Some keepsakes from the past, too. And the knives? Sort of. Two wristwatches. What else? Nothing tangible. The most important (read: dire) aspects of life have been torn away and are now so distant that I can barely imagine where I’ve been, let alone where I need to be. Curious... Years ago some of my possessions were necessary for my very survival. Now? I’ve tossed half of them to the winds due to learning just a tiny smidgen of what I need to be satisfied and comfortable in life. I did not say ‘happy’ for good reason because that word is on a level I do not understand. The point is, the memories hit me in the head every fucking day and cause massive, chronic damage no matter the effort I put forth to get through the hours on my feet. Do I sound like I’m complaining? YOU make the call. I don’t understand any of this and probably never will. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. As I keep stating... The little enjoyments are all I have left in the world. When they fail to achieve, I will go away. At least I will no longer feel such pain. I’ll be driving to the City again this morning. Just a quick trip up and back for business, and then the remainder of the day will be all mine. The drive will be much like yesterday, meaning I’ll be scanning the areas for anything striking. Yesterday there was one very tall woman on a corner looking like a million bucks, but such a sight is very rare. Most of the time there are just average, everyday people out and about. Seeing something special only hurts more, but I can’t fucking help it. I am too far gone now. The hour is late, for sure. Upon returning, I suppose I’ll do my usual Sunday stuff and maybe work in the garage again. All the while, my heart will be breaking and my head hurting from all that has been either lost or torn away. Soon I’ll have to ask anyone reading this drivel to tell me why I am doing anything at all. Right now the only plus I see to the day will be the comfort in arriving home after the drive. That always feels good because I don’t like being out there near other people. There was a quick shot of Nora in which her beautiful thigh-gap was visible (from a bit of a distance, but still not bad). When I saw it, something inside me clicked and my head swung a one-eighty from productive thought and typing to rampant desire to be all over her midsection until I run out of breath in this life. How does that happen? Tell me, please. Maybe the losses are racking more quickly than I can deal with each one individually, or perhaps I just long for too much of the past. The world is different. I am very different. None of that shit can take place anymore. The last three sentences could be the reasons there is so much pain inside when I look at Nora’s legs. I am still trying to understand myself. A good portion of why this process does not seem to ever get anywhere is that I have to keep a few key details out of the fucking content, and results in a ton of information I must avoid sharing. The process is very restrictive and exhausting. These painful feelings happen quite often and Nora is simply the latest example of the fall. The images come and go. Oh, Chelsea. Please let me... Help me. 1110. Part of my Sunday business is finished, including going through the refrigerator. I have one hell of a head start on the housework. My chores are so far along, in fact, that the morning cocktail is already gone. Now I have hours to myself for whatever seems best or most pressing. And Holly just reinforced my disdain for a personality trait that is so off-putting that I can’t find the fucking words. Anyway, earlier I was convinced that any suggestion of passing the time without falling off a cliff was impossible, whereas the time ahead appears slightly improved over my early mindset. Don’t get me wrong; the issues remain inside my head no matter what kind of advantage I might feel after accomplishing so much. I am angry again, just like Dave stated all those years ago. Angry. There was no drive to the City this morning because the time system has been all fucked up for the last few days. This is better, actually, because having so much finished prior to having free time is good for my head (sometimes). I need help so badly right now that my thoughts are bordering upon recklessness in the worst way. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Believe me... You don’t wanna know.’ Monday morning has arrived. The importance of the peace and quiet inherent in this house during the weekdays cannot be overstated right now. Nora is wearing jeans, and not that shit you may see out there these days, either. I am talking about the proper cut and fit. God she is gorgeous. Anyway, the house will be just what I need today. 1105. The au pair waving to me a little while ago brought all of the shit back to my brain after I worked around the house and felt a little better. Shit. Whatever. There will always be something. At least it wasn’t Nora this time. Reality may not hold up to fiction, but that girl stirs me every fucking time. Her gait is adorable, along with flowing hair and a big smile when she waves. This will not change, either. My garage is perpetually in ‘do not approach’ mode, especially concerning such forms. I have to remain at a distance or my brain will not function properly. My routine is finished and I’ll be doing some laundry in and around whatever else happens today. The printer (after twelve fucking years) is actually worthless, but I was able to order a new one for very little money which will be arriving tomorrow. I need the ability to copy and print, nothing more. When I first purchased the previous printer, I was routinely creating large-format prints of some of my digital images. I don’t need to do that anymore, so less features and a smaller carriage are fine. I’m sure the new printer will serve me for several years. The cost was less than a quarter of the previous model. And since it is cocktail hour, I decided to relax in the office for a while and express myself here. Tuesday is here, for whatever it may be worth. I’ve been reading, watching video media and listening to a ‘mature’ driver course intended to lower the cost of my car insurance renewal (boring as hell, but what the fuck) since yesterday, hence the limited writing. The time is 1116 today and I finished the routine early in order to read through a few chapters so I can finish the entire course prior to renewing my policy. A moment ago, I decided to play some mellow music in the background whenever I’m reading and don’t need to hear the audio attached to some of the video lessons. Well, the music choice brought my mind all the way back to the glowing years. It is so poignant and important to me, in fact, that I ceased the lesson and decided to reflect upon who I am and how I arrived in this depressing locale. What I find absolutely amazing is just how quickly these compositions can send me back in time and derail whatever else seemed pressing. Oh, and the track that just began is the very first my mom and I noticed while waiting for my dad in the Goodguys store in Dublin roughly thirty-five years ago when the world was still full of wonder and possibility. My brain is currently computing methods for demonstrating the vast power of my mood while near other people so they can attempt to digest the damage which has created the person they see. I am going to leave the driver bullshit alone for a while and focus upon the pitfalls and lost promise of the place in which I now reside. This is permanent, to be sure. For reasons of good form, I will say that the music in the background is a compilation created from works dating prior to nineteen ninety. The intermissions have been necessary because I can’t think straight most of the time and must go on with daily drivel rather than being creative in any way. I can honestly say that at this very moment my head is in the worst place it has ever inhabited in more than fifty-six years. Maybe I have lived a long life, and maybe not. I suppose the reference standard for such an observation is different for each individual. Along such lines, my current quandary is to decide whether or not a second glass of whiskey is a good idea. The short answer is no, yet inside me is a powerful desire to go straight off the deep end and cease this shit for all time. And yes, the fucking music has a hand in my current mindset. Nothing can ever be as beautiful as the period just after my mom and me hearing the first song over an audio system sitting on an endcap in the electronics store so many years ago. Nothing. Believe it, motherfucks. What I am hearing right now is more powerful than anything before or since. I am abusing the speakers and my hearing at the same time, yet neither seems to matter. I think my new printer was just dropped on the porch. The delivery driver did not seem to understand where the music was emanating. Heh. At least I’m not in the garage right now. That always puts off those who are unfamiliar with me. One more time? Heh. I don’t fucking care anymore. I am sitting mere feet from where the driver placed the package, yet the Low-E coating on surface three of these windows tends to disallow viewing what may be taking place on the opposite side. Look it up. Three wishes right now: One, to go back and feel the wonder again. Two, to find a way to traverse this pain and come out the other side in an improved condition. Three? You don’t want to know. One is impossible. Two is unlikely after two decades of effort. As for three, well... I guess the situation has not yet become so dire. Would you like a finer point placed on the third option? I will kill myself if there is no true wonder or hope apparent in the near future. I prefer others to remain unable to understand the way I feel. I need something that is all my own. I also need to know that their questions cannot be answered, nor do I wish to be stereotyped. Most days, I find myself seeking ways of causing further confusion. The next track is going to bring tears to my eyes. Let us become drunk. The driving-related lessons are on hold until tomorrow. Vodka. Yay. I still need to treat a stain on one jacket and then run a load of dry cleaning. I’ll get to it soon, perhaps the next time I head to the garage for a break. Wednesday. Yesterday revealed to me that there is a problem I need to alleviate, and the effort has to begin immediately. What does this mean? One of my little enjoyments must be truncated. I am not happy about it, although there are a few upsides, none of which I am willing to discuss here. The bottom line is that the next few weeks are going to be very difficult. Anyway, in roughly an hour I have to make the drive into the City like last weekend. I am not looking forward to the potential for traffic so late in the morning (about 0800), but at least I can be comfortable in the car. Better than nothing. Upon returning, I’ll have to think about altering myself a bit and get the new process of truncation started. I’ll probably end up in a shitty mood. My head went through quite a bit of crap yesterday morning, so I decided to finish off the motorcycle work and straighten the area somewhat. Did the work help? Eh... I don’t know. I seemed to hit a wall during the mid-morning and barely recovered by the end of business hours. The music rather catalyzed my feelings, too, meaning I’ll have to avoid certain compositions for a while as I transition into this new daily way of thinking. The other feelings are still there because there is nothing I can do about them. 1142. The drive was uneventful. We stopped at both markets on the way back, too, although my new diet means all of the fun stuff had to be passed. Curious, all of the typical yummy foods which have risen in cost over the last few years were on sale, yet due to the change in my eating habits, I picked up exactly none of them. Arliss Howard is awesome. Unfortunately, his character is quite the asshole. Heh. Whatever. He can probably eat whatever he wants. At some point I will have to return to the driving lessons (ha!) and continue my efforts in lowering the car insurance bill. I have enough time to complete the entire course prior to renewing, too. This is a very good thing. I suppose age has its advantages. Better than nothing. Willa is on the screen with her unbelievably well-sculpted thighs. Ugh. Shut up. I also set up the new printer and it is ready to go. The unit is much smaller than my older ‘wide carriage’ printer, too. That means it fits here on the table with the rest of the computer. Very nice. I can reconfigure the drafting table soon. Nicole’s lips are a universe all their own. Just a thought. I’d love to be given an opportunity right now. Isn’t all this exciting? Nope. Thursday morning is here and I can already feel a problem brewing at only 0656. 0824. I missed something a few minutes ago, and the feeling of loss was more acute due to a pair of news anchors on the television this morning. I had been preparing everything and trying to straighten as I worked and had the news in the background. Well, as I predicted earlier, a problem arose out of nowhere and left me with a diminished ability to think clearly. I very nearly used the word ‘unfair’, but most of the time I know better. I am just not in a position in life to be where I must in order to survive. This is a rather heart-wrenching situation sometimes, the present morning being no different. I can’t just move around the house and let everything go because the feelings are dire, nor can I seem to work through and actually feel good during the average day. There has to be some sort of middle ground which allows me to carry out whatever work needs to be accomplished while avoiding a breakdown. As of yet, I have only found one or the other to be the case, most of the time being able to do at least the minimum even when a bad situation develops. I don’t like to be angry, but the more I think about the current situation, the more I realize the causes cannot be mitigated. Hence my repeated statements regarding understanding ears. I know they may help, but at the same time there is so much fear that I worry the outcome could be worse than the initial problem,much like the treatment actually being worse than the disease. When I realized there was a missed opportunity, my head formulated two outcomes: One, I see something and then become distraught, or two, I miss it and have a difficult time dealing with the loss. Isn’t that peachy? I finished two chapters of the driving course this morning. There is one more but I need to take a break and polish off the coffee before going further. I keep thinking about the doors of life, as well. The driving course is very straightforward (if boring) and will be out of the way later this morning, whereas the doors keep popping up in my mind and derailing whatever I may be trying to consider. I am lost and cannot see any possibilities on the horizon that might help me. The right pair of ears likely exists out there but I will never find them. What I need is very specific, meaning a rarity. The need is growing, as well. I am on a road with no turns. 1100 straight up. I finished the online driving course and will be sending my certificate to the insurance company by next Monday. Very nice. As I already said somewhere up the page, the material is rather boring, but since I try to be a person with integrity, nothing was skipped and I read every single word of the material as well as watched every video from beginning to end. I will not be full of shit when it comes to an insurance discount. I don’t have the type of personality for deceiving anyone in order to take a fucking shortcut. That’s just not me. So... The course is finished and I can reap the benefits when all is said and done. Moreover, I found myself partially preoccupied with the central issue in life during the entire course, even going so far as to pause at key points when something physically attractive was displayed within the content. I am a basket case, and such a statement is far worse than anyone else can possibly realize. Just believe me... The processes inside my head right now are not to be shared with anyone. They are very bad and I am not proud of such a fact. One of the key issues with which I’ve been forced to deal during the last few years is that my current mindset has been created by other people. Yes, I said ‘other people’. Believe it. I am not in the custom of lying about anything, least of all the way I feel each and every fucking day. My emotional condition is at an all-time low. If and when this state of mind can no longer be dealt with through any means, I will be fucking dead. Read that sentence again. Just... BELIEVE. The only plus to my new diet is there will be no reduction in the consumption of alcohol. And yes, I realize the liquid enjoyment is a depressant, so shut your fucking mouth right now. Another intermission may follow this one. The muse is gone for the time being and I have no idea of how to get it back. My head is completely sideways. I made it through Thursday. Last night I tried to go with the flow a bit, too. Fortunately, I didn’t lose my shit and the evening was very short. I feel much different being out there these days than I did a year ago or more. Perhaps the idea of lighting up the empire and being sociable is worn the hell out after all this time. Whatever the case, I’m content to remain inside the house during most evenings. More now than ever, to be honest. I need to be as isolated as possible most of the time in order to offset the discomfort inherent in holding up a wall in front of people. I may not like the idea, but it is very necessary for my survival. And in case anyone begins to believe that I am improving at all, I missed something this morning and feel as if my life is a tad shorter than prior to the loss. I could have... Never mind. My needs don’t fucking matter, anyway. Jesus Harold Christ in a data packet... For whatever reason, any communication with Apple cloud information has been painfully slow for the last few days. I don’t understand, and as is the custom of late, any searches for answers yield others asking the same questions with no helpful solutions. I can’t stand it when something suddenly begins to misbehave for no apparent reason. They always tell people the same shit, too... Reboot this, reboot that, change the cabling, update the software... You know. Nothing ever changes because the companies always assume that users are causing all of the problems. The truth is some of us know precisely what we are doing. Many people, actually. Eh... Whatever. I’ll try to work around the problem. 0920. I am still sipping coffee and streaming my program over on the right-hand display. The cloud does not want to sync properly for whatever reason, so I’ve gone to the RAID in order to organize the information there prior to moving some things around. Willa’s eyes are incredibly dark. Wow. 1254. What have I been doing? I don’t know. The daily routine is out of the way and I had lunch. I listed another auction, too. The big knife is up for grabs. I believe that one represents the last of the redundancy. As bad as yesterday now appears, today should prove to be better because I don’t have that wallowing feeling inside, nor am I completely out of gas in the middle of the day. I think as long as something is accomplished – regardless of how large or small – the outlook brightens. That’s how I feel right now, anyway. I am again waiting for the evening. Hopefully, it will feel deserved. Today may also be the day my neighbor will need help installing a new starter in his old car. I’m happy to assist with tools or whatever. If the project doesn’t happen, well, that’s fine. As of this very moment, I don’t know what to do with the rest of the time today. The morning was fucked up and I haven’t fully recovered. At least the auction is live so I can watch it develop for a week. Oh, I did send my driving course certificate to the insurance company so the discount can be applied. That’s something. Bailey’s thighs again.... I may have to switch the media to something else because there are delicate parts of her which will weave their way into me and ruin my day. I will say the best part of this scene is Chris Bauer’s acting prowess, though, not Bailey. And right on the heels of that crap is Nicole again with her unbelievably slender yet shapely features. Damn. That’s all I’m going to say right now. I honestly don’t feel very good about myself today. I have to improve the state of my mind. 1528. I helped with the starter motor project and everything went to shit in roughly an hour. It seems that after installation, removal and some testing on the bench, the new starter is defective. I even double-checked the part number to no avail. We’re going to have to wait for another to be shipped and then try again. Ugh. At least my tools never fail. Now I have some of the afternoon left to relax prior to making revolutions for dinner. Oh, and during the automotive work, I saw those damned legs again. No, the other ones. It seems every fucking time I see her, she eventually ends up either facing directly toward me or the opposite, effectively melting my brain due to some of the most stirring lines to cross my vision in years. She lives in the neighborhood. Splendid. Anyway, the next couple of hours should be peaceful. I'm tired of living this way." 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
Another Fuckin' Intermission? Mature content No. 391 Published August 11th, 2023 3:47pm pdt read ( words) Past entries "Eh... I don’t know what to say anymore. Tuesday is here. What does it mean? Nothing, really. The most important aspect of the morning is all of the free time I have ahead of me. Intermission is most decidedly NOT over. 1149. I went to the market and saw something which destroyed the inside of my head. Thank Christ I was not closer than fifty feet. The resulting pain would have most likely caused me to consider the final solution and the way my mind has changed in the space of roughly fourteen months. I can’t fucking think about the change right now. I just can’t. I simply could not believe what I was seeing, suffice to say that by the time I entered the market to shop, the rest of the world melted away and I finished my trip with all haste. Jesus, I wish I had not seen her. Very bad. I can honestly say that I have never felt as fucked up in fifty-plus years as I do right now. That is not a joke, nor am I overstating the case. This is so bad that the little daily enjoyments are going to have to work harder to hold me up and keep me out of the fucking soil. Wednesday is here. In a little while I have to drive someone to the City, return home, and then wait for the call to pick up. The drives will break up my day a bit, but should be out of the way by noon or so. I shall be overjoyed when today’s responsibilities are finished. Overjoyed. I prefer driving when I feel like it rather than at the request of others, yet this situation is something I simply must do for them. Time will pass and I’ll be home soon enough, though. As I said before, anything outside my typical realm helps to ensure I appreciate being home nearly all of the time. I should be leaving the house in twenty-two minutes. Thursday has landed on my porch with nary a concern for my well-being. The day just shows up as if someone ordered it from the menu, when the opposite is typically true. There are positives today, however, beginning with the fact that I do not have to leave this house at all, quite the reverse of yesterday. Another is having all of my daily devices in place to help ensure my comfort while home. I guess that’s it for now. The driving yesterday really took its toll, so being able to take it easier today will help. The operation of dropoff and pickup comprised roughly six hours, including one hour here during the mid-morning so I could take care of some business, and then more time spent waiting in the City before we were free to drive back. Ooh-fa, that was a lot of time spent in the car and two different rooms at the hospital. I knew at the time that if I could focus upon today and knowing all the bullshit was behind me, the day would pass as it should. I was right, and here I sit in an improved frame of mind (mostly). Holy Jesus fucking hell is Nora ever stunning. Wow. I love her, just like the other two. Ugh. Leave it. Another problem popped up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon and I was in no position to record my thoughts. I simply had to remain upright and hold it together, but inside me was another cyclone of imagery, memories and loss. Since there is never any recourse, the result was nothing more than another lost rung on the ladder of life. I was all over the City yesterday and saw absolutely nothing, only to return home to something I really don’t need to see, yet at the same time I am desperate for more. This is very bad and I don’t know what to do. I’ll finish the coffee soon and then distract myself from the dire feelings inside, knowing the entire time that everything is either fake or merely on the surface. Depth cannot be explored here for too many reasons to list. The bottom line is that I desire her way too much to remain balanced and there is nothing I can do about it (like so many other situations in recent years). I will see her again and fall down. Each occasion destroys another small part of me. One day there will be nothing left. I don’t know how long these intermissions will go on. The other story is still on hold because I can’t find the muse and feel like shit all the fucking time. I have fallen prey to the squishing and routing for too long to consider any recovery as feasible. There is only one direction from here. All I can do is transmit my thoughts through the keyboard and try to find ways of enjoying some comfort. Everything will end soon enough. Hadley is adorable but her face is too round. The other one? The faerie? Don’t get me started. 1009. I am overjoyed to be home today, especially considering the severely truncated amount of free time I had yesterday. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a nice fat cocktail sitting here on the table. My brain has been inside the fictional nether regions of certain individuals and I can’t seem to stop the process. Yes, I said fictional. Think of the two machines from my stories. Fictional. Unreal. Mechanical. Just what I need every fucking minute of every fucking day. This will never stop, either, because there has been far too much damage for me to entertain any notion of reality fulfilling my needs and dreams. The doorstep will never darken. The recourse does not exist. The fantasy failed years ago. The sinful realm rules all too often and I can’t do anything about it. There have been entirely too many strikes, from the iniquitous to the evil. I still worship fervently, yet the truth is no one knows, meaning said worship does not matter. My feelings no longer matter. ‘I think I no longer matter’. You don’t know the song, but I do. Intimately. There is Nora again. One of the three. If I could just enter the story that is the third show, all of this could be negated within minutes. Otherwise? The downward trajectory continues. At least some of the housework is finished. Salome is about to make a huge mistake, bless her dead soul. You wanna talk about beautiful breasts? Holy bleeding fuck in an unlined bra... She isn’t real. Maybe instead of the third series, I can venture into the realm of the faeries. Some of them are unbelievably well-formed. Ugh. This situation just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. For reasons of good form, I need to repeat the exchange from the current program: 'Eller was right, you fucking prick, and you just got him killed!' ‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ The day’s ambition is waning. I’ll probably restrict my work to the office for the duration. I can list another auction and straighten this room, and then perhaps spend some time considering the long story that has fallen partially by the wayside. I can’t have that because the narrative is far too important to my frame of mind. I don’t speak out loud; I must speak with my keyboard. And speaking of speaking, I see Deborah as a person, whereas Jessica is an object. Interesting. I am not a bad person, just one who has been thrust into a terrible place by the actions and words of others. Believe it, motherfucks. Oh, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and I realize some of this shit is my own fault, but not everything. No fucking way. Routed. Squished. Disregarded. This is why I find it so difficult to find ambition. There is too much damage inside for me to swing my mood to more productive and positive places. As the days pass, the slide will continue. I pray the slope never increases, but at the same time such a circumstance is wholly expected. I have to maintain the facade for the benefit of others because my little slices of comfort require such bullshit. I’ve become very adept at appearing as if at least some of me is ok. The hour is still fairly early. Plenty of time to do whatever seems best. Hoyt is in a bad way right now. Too bad, because he was one of the most balanced characters until Jessica tossed him aside. I guess I can’t blame Hoyt for acting out because I’ve done it on several occasions, the last of which was less than a week ago and I still regret my behavior. I am only human, but that seems no good excuse anymore. Every now and again I become angry and decide to ‘swing the hammer’, leaving my head full of remorse more often than not. I am angry right now, too. The idea of lashing out feels right. I have learned otherwise, though. Nothing I do while angry is going to change the situation. The typical result is me feeling as if I either spoke too much or perhaps realizing that I am helpless in this life. The Ifrit is about to cause a circumstance which leads to the dialog I mentioned above. It’s supposed to be frightening, too, but anymore all I do is laugh at the exchange. In order to bridge this stupid shit to the on-hold story, watching the media play on the right-hand display reminds me of the second door. And yes, I now realize it was a fucking door, so don’t give me a blast of shit. Actors. Production people. Cameras of the most wondrous type. Editing. Beauty. Film. Yep... Film. I already know what Julia is going to say. Anyway, I must state that after yesterday’s hours of driving and my broken-up time at home, today is a Godsend. I really needed peace and quiet today. I needed it almost as much as I currently need... Never mind. The pain never goes away. Pain inside and outside. Pain in my head and elsewhere. I am beginning to believe that there is not a fucking soul who cares. You may already know what can result from such a position in life. Sometimes when I see her, desperate words fly through my head. During other times, I recall past situations in which I was exactly where I needed to be. And further? I believe that the one little compartment inside my brain that continues to calculate the external results of suicide is at war with my intentions and dreams. I guess there is still some part of me that hopes for a change. When that part is gone, all is lost. I have the means. The doors must return soon. I never felt any desire toward Pam. Interesting. Maybe I’ve identified with her need to be ‘turned’ to the point of respecting such a decision, and the image of her five-nine stance, bulging breasts and full lips melted away because I knew that her desperation was a match to mine. Rather than wishing to be all over her skin, I wanted to free myself from the shackles of this fucking sordid life and vicariously experienced it through Pam achieving what she needed. I cannot, meaning when I see her beauty on the screen, all I can feel is respect for her decision to die. I still can’t make the same decision. I can’t fucking do it. Not right now. Believe me, the sheer amount of inner strength and restraint required in dealing with other people these days is almost enough to break me in half. I closed the garage door. Very exciting. Sometimes I don’t want others to know that I am ‘available’ for pleasant conversation. Nothing currently playing out inside my head is pleasant. Trust me. Friday morning, 0811. Everything may go sideways very soon. I don’t know yet, but maybe. The early business is out of the way and I have hours to myself, thank the maker. A dream shortly before I woke has me gripped by the past and seeing a face I’ve not considered for a very long time. She was beautiful, staring at me with tearful eyes, and had answered a question I asked a moment earlier. And then everything hit me in the face and I remember it all. Damn it. I guess I’ll have to deal with her memory for a while. Our relationship in reality was not as I felt in the dream, yet her answer to my question pretty much cemented the way she felt for decades. I feel pretty fucking bad right now even though none of it really happened. Maybe the subject is supposed to help me learn something, like the doors. One certainty is that she was definitely not a door, but the lesson could be tertiary. I have to take some time and consider the past again. The desperate words from yesterday are still running in circles. Treading? I don’t know. There are missing pieces to consider which have now been exacerbated by the dream. Just what I needed. Thanks, world. And you can fuck right off. I made nice yesterday afternoon but I don’t see it happening today. I just can’t right now. The fact is the more I have to hold the facade and be completely full of shit, the more tiresome the days become. The feeling has been increasing lately, too. I can’t do anything about this, either. I just have to sit on everything as if I am constantly pounding sand on the beach. Going nowhere, just as I had predicted years ago. There is plenty I can do around the house and garage, anyway. I do not want to be unkind, meaning I’ll have to remain unavailable to avoid being forced into a stance that makes me very uncomfortable. I also saw that girl again yesterday which does not help. And another? Yep... I ventured to my neighbor’s garage to look at some oil pans and caught a square sight of something very special across the street, and from an angle to which I am not accustomed due to the angle of the court with respect to this house. She was fucking amazing and I stared the entire time as she strolled up the driveway. Jesus. Combined with seeing the other one, the best path today may be to remain indoors and keep my brain out of harm’s way. That means zero socializing. I’m too tired to sit here and be pleasant while very damaging images and words fly through my head. I’m just too fucking tired for more of that. I need a break. And I think my printer of twelve years took a crap. Damn. 1032. Routine? Finished. Cocktail? Fuck yes. I don’t feel very well this morning. What’s wrong? No idea. I made the decision to remain in the house all day, too. My car needs fuel prior to the City drive tomorrow, so I’ll fill the tank early tomorrow morning rather than going out today. My head is in a bad way yet again. A disastrous morning always leaves me sans ambition. Everything is just shit right now. I am in no mood to deal with other people, so remaining indoors seems like the best idea for me as well as them. ‘Brother, I want to...’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Nora.’ Aw geez... That’s one of the great loves of my life you’re disrespecting there, buddy. Go easy, please. Anyway... Nora has the prime facial trait, much like what’s-her-name in all those Hallmark movies. What is it? I’ll remember soon enough. The point is such a trait makes my heart bleed, to be honest. I see Nora’s beautiful face and melt into a puddle of goo every fucking time. Ah... It’s Lacey. Both faces are very pronounced and I still don’t know why such an appearance drives me to experience so much emotion. The trait has never been a physical thing, either. Other feelings are much more important. I just wish I could understand why. I believe the girl in the dream this morning opened yet another door to the past and left me very emotional to begin with, and then adding Nora’s face to the pile only served to leave me completely heeled over for the umpteenth time. I really didn’t need that fucking dream, damn it. I love Jolene, Jamie and Nora almost equally, a fact which is very telling of my current condition. I can’t keep saying I am grossly out of balance because it’s nowhere near enough. Jolaimora. You may be wondering about the spelling, seeing as how I transposed Jamie and Jaime years ago and had to go back and correct several essays. Well, the reasoning behind the name ‘Jaime’ being a part of the combination is due to two different factors from the beginning of the pandemic, just over three years ago. One is the name I attached to the images from San Diego – which was born of the fictional Jaime (the machine, remember?) – and the other grew from that unknown woman. Jaime was the name I attached to my desperate, ridiculous and fruitless search for ‘her’. Hence, Jolaimora. And keep in mind that I am in love with fictional characters, not real people. I don’t know them and don’t need to. I could go into how all this shit relates to the third show, but I already look bad enough. Additional descriptions are unnecessary. You may already know, anyway. I am so far out of fucking balance that sometimes when I think about ending up this way I can barely put things together in my head. And? Only Nora has the prime trait. One of three. I can’t see the CD changer girl anymore, the rollercoaster girl has a very different face, and the race girl was even more distant from the typical darkness that I find so attractive. I am quite certain that the CD changer girl did not share Nora’s beautiful trait. This is all so fucking insane. Fictional characters. Hmm. I believe such feelings are about as unhealthy as possible. Nora is wearing leather pants that show off her lines. I don’t love her because of the lines. The face is always first. I’ve seen some fucking unreal lines and dimensions which defy the mind, yet all too often there is a face atop everything that is frightening for one reason or another; sometimes several reasons at the same time or combined. Nora just happens to have one of the most unique faces I’ve ever seen. Good God... At least I don’t feel that the situation and my feelings are unfair. That would be stupid. I know the ways of the world and what I am. Um... I am no one at all. And Nora is the main topic because she’s in the program I’ve been following for the last few weeks. That will change. One more time for accentuation and posterity... Reality is for shit and I am in love with fictional characters. Read that ten times and then calculate what must be happening inside my broken brain. Go for it. And keep in mind that only some of what I feel ends up here. Most of the shit is still hidden away for safety. Some of what goes on inside would land me in very bad places. Believe it. On the other side of things, I see that the other Jamie (Danielle is the character’s name) is in this and the next several episodes. She is in stark contrast to Nora in that I’d like to lick all the parts of her that are covered in clothing. Is that bad? Does saying such a thing narrow the vision of readers? Are you offended? It’s just a desire. A very strong desire, but only desire nonetheless. Most of those types of feelings remain hidden within most people and I have evidenced the gradient. I’ve seen and heard it. So, if I sit here and see Jamie on the screen and physically desire such a woman, what does that make me? Exactly... Just a person with feelings. Go fuck yourself. And remember... There are two Jamies in this entry. One is all about love. The other? Sex. Live with it. Have I successfully conveyed the way I feel about Nora? Probably not. Nothing is ever enough. Are you sick and tired of hearing it? There will be more. As I said... Nothing can ever be enough. Nothing. The word pervades my life. Help granny make the bed. I am losing my mind a bit more each day. I can feel pieces of my brain falling away like wet cake in a rainstorm. Marvelous. 1132. My drink is nearly gone. The plan is to return to the kitchen and put away the dishes and such, and then have some leftovers for lunch. Once everything is finished, I’m going to head to the garage and unbox a bunch of things that were dropped off months ago from her parents’ house. I would like to have the garage streamlined a bit more. The dinner plan will begin in about two hours because I’m making some ‘porcupine’ meatballs in the slow cooker, meaning I need to have them assembled and browned prior to 1400. They will be accompanied by fried potatoes because I have apparently become an expert with the preparation and cooking of the same. I like preparing dinner early because by the time the evening arrives, there is very little to do. Moreover, I can thrash the kitchen during the day and have everything cleaned up prior to the relaxation. Oh my fucking God... Nora is so far beyond beautiful that I have to invent words for an adequate description. Holy shit... Here comes Lilith, all five-ten of her frame and a pair of eyes that are darker than anything else imaginable. Am I a basket case? Yep. I’ve never denied such. Anyway, The kitchen work will be accompanied by the third show, just like earlier this morning. I love those people. They are my family. In addition, the knife that I am going to list for auction is enjoying new batteries for the digital display functions and its built-in flashlight. I’ll have to capture some nice images and then list it later today, perhaps after the slow cooker is operating. Considering all of the issues in my head and heart, I am forever thankful for the time and space to care for whatever is necessary for the smooth operation of the household. I still don’t know when the story of the doors will continue. I need to feel it, and right now all I feel is loss. Hopefully, the dinner preparations and housework will help to calm my head enough to find my muse. Pause for the cause. 1400 straight up is what I see on the little clocks. The meatballs are in the slow cooker and the kitchen has been cleaned again. There will be one more dish prepared in the next hour, and that is a salad, the type of which will be much more flavorful after melding in the fridge for a few hours. Closer to dinner time, I’ll fry some potatoes as the second side dish. For right now, though, I need to be off my feet for a little bit. My back is beginning to suffer. I saw her again, all beautiful flowing hair and yoga pants. For reasons of good form along with some faux medicinal purposes (read: weakness), I have a lovely glass of the foggy blue sitting here next to the keyboard. After gazing at her again, I need something... Well, you know. Anyway, aside from the aforementioned salad and slicing of taters, I’ll be relaxing for the remainder of the afternoon. I won’t even get into seeing Nora for the third time today. Too much. Seeing her is not good for me but I cannot avoid looking and dreaming. This is what I have become after all of the sentient weaponry, squishing, and the like. I have been affected too much to cease gazing at that beauty when she is within view (it’s rare). And I don’t know what the fuck is with the faeries sometimes, but in the present scene there are six and every one of them is aligned with the information with which I’ve been obsessed for decades. Every Goddamned one of them, no shit. I am not kidding. The side view of two of them walking at a normal pace is staggering to the mind. Sometimes this series is crap, but during other times it is a wonderland of lines and beauty. Mostly the former, though. Whatever. Where was I? Ah... The girl I see on occasion. This neighborhood has its fair share of picturesque forms, believe me, but the girl in question tends to stand out much of the time. At least what I saw today was not as bad as the last occasion. I think my eyes almost blew right the fuck out of my skull that day. Jesus. My head is so fucked up that the sheer need to see whatever I can is overpowering and interrupts whatever else may be happening at the time. I am desperate to see more, too. None of this shit is going to change for the better. Do I feel pain when I see her? Oh, yes. Plenty. Do I look anyway? Of course. I don’t know how else to live anymore. Call me whatever you wish. None of it could be worse than the words swirling inside my head right now. When I refer to the ‘damaging’ dreams, well... Just trust me. There is far more desire inside my brain than what slides off this keyboard. Oh, Nora. Please hold me and make all the bad go away. Please... Just hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I love you. Holy God... You wanna talk about a unique face? She is unbelievable and I can never say enough. There are times when my heart swells for her to the point of pushing Jamie down a notch. Does anyone care? Nope. Go on with your own shit and forget me. Guess what? Nora is on the screen again, wearing a gorgeous black blouse and sporting impeccable makeup. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? I don’t care. I feel what I feel and very little of it is based in reality. The truth is the real world has hurt me far too much for consideration, the past years and fantasy worlds easily taking priority over said pain. I could live inside Nora’s fucking hair forever and not need anything more. Just imagine the scent in there... Shut up. ‘Take that off, remove the other one, and then put the first piece back on. Now just stand there for a few minutes while I try to understand what I am seeing. Quarter turn to the left. Stop. Thank you.’ 1734. Everything is finished. Dinner will be a simple affair thanks to my early efforts in the kitchen. This is the type of evening that I enjoy, too. Work throughout the day adds up to less work as the dinner hour approaches. Very nice. I just wish my head was as organized as the housework. The au pair went by a little while ago and waved to me like always. I’m really glad she doesn’t know what goes through my brain when she smiles in my direction. It’s best no one knows. Maybe she would hold me and tell me all those things I so badly need to hear. Eh... Maybe not. Everything along such lines is nothing more than a series of pipe dreams. Saturday morning is here. In an hour I have to drive to the City and back, as has become the custom for the last few weekends. I don’t mind, honestly, but would prefer to go as early as possible. Today we won’t be leaving until about 0830. Whatever. Upon returning, I’ll be nice and comfortable like yesterday. Nora is looking stunning this morning in a purple dress, and I rarely like dresses. She could be in a burlap sack and still outshine almost everyone else in the world. Anyway, I took care of a decent amount of business yesterday, so maybe today I can get around to trimming the front tree some more. Perhaps I can work on the bike again, too. I really need to get things organized out there for my own peace of mind. Dinner ended up being really good last night so I am planning to reheat the leftovers for tonight. Sometimes I can’t get the image of her out of my head, and other times it is more of a ‘situation’ commanding my attention. She pulls me away from myself with all haste. The past does at times, too, but those are memories and long gone, whereas she is real and nearby on occasion. Either those two topics ruin my ability to get through a typical day, or a third pops into mind for whatever reason – mostly everything that has been lost – and derails me for hours on end. I have recently learned that lashing out solves nothing and no longer feels good. I have also realized that my anger can lead nowhere and usually turns right back on me. Nothing helps and since I have no recourse for these powerful feelings, at some point I believe I will have to put an end to everything. ‘Bottled-in a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession.’ I have become a mere fraction of what I once achieved in life, only some of which is carried within. The rest was external. The more I think about everything, the angrier I become, and then I feel like lashing out in some random direction. The problem is, I already know nothing will change, so I end up just sitting here stewing about everything and my insides become very uncomfortable. My life has become nothing more than an impossible conundrum, one which is tearing me up inside. One of the three will slam me at some point each day. Yesterday there was a horrible lack of understanding that led me to and then through disaster, all the while those fucking smiling faces were floating about as if to taunt me and cement my disappointment in life. No matter what kind of enjoyment I can squeeze out of a given day, my mood will undoubtedly be tripped up sooner or later and leave me more depressed than the previous day. The little enjoyments continue to shrink. The symptoms will not leave me alone, ever. I don’t fucking see the reasoning here. Days roll over me like a piece of farm equipment, and as they do I see more and more, yet understand less and less. I don’t see any of this changing unless I force the issue, but if and when I decide to put the kibosh to such a huge lack of understanding, I won’t be able to do anything, ever. Does that mean I have hope? YOU make the call. Same Saturday. The time is now 1639, as if it matters anymore. I trimmed the front tree more with the help of my neighbor’s saw, took care of the usual daily business, had lunch, but I don’t know what to do with the rest of the afternoon. I’ve been spinning my wheels for the last hour or so. Finding the story’s direction again seems a world away these days. There are chiclets on the screen a la Jessica and her never-ending eyelashes. Whatever. I am so lost. Nora is wearing purple. This is no way to live. I keep saying something must happen, but what? I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this shit, either. Patience is finite. Well, I hadn’t much of that to begin with, so use your imagination. ‘I choose you.’ Um, ok. That’s fine. ‘I choose you.’ Nope, sorry. You already chose Bill over Salome. ‘I choose you.’ Again... Too late. Third try. It ain’t gonna be Nora. ‘I choose you.’ Nice try, princess. After three failures, the odds don’t favor Kibwe, either. Heh. I am still pissed off, but that sequence is funny. And don’t get me started on the fantastic Jessica Clark and her bloody skin. Sunday. The feelings overtake me too often. Years ago, I did not become distraught every single day. The issue was more like a small breakdown that took place on occasion, and usually only during serious downtime. I did not become overly tormented or lost when I saw something. Now, keep in mind during that period I nearly threw everything into the wind to be where I needed (for the third time) and recovering from such feelings took quite a bit of time. Some of it never went away, to be honest, but at least when I tried to relax and enjoy myself, the required effort to do so was nowhere near as great as during the present time. I did not dwell as much because circumstances were very different. Well, things continued to change and eventually became so truncated that I did not see any way around actually losing my mind. I still can’t go into specifics here, damn it, or everything would be pretty damned clear. I lost my way yesterday for quite a while and eventually forced the issue in order to earn the evening. So far this morning, I am heading in the same direction and beginning to believe that last week’s incident was a real line in life, one which has been moved behind me and disallows going backward to feel better about everything. I am moving along this year just as I expected... Saying the same things over and over in different ways, trying to understand why the world has to be as it is, and realizing that no matter what I write (or do) or how bad I feel, I will never find the ears. They probably don’t even exist. Well, the ears have been there for me in the past and I’ve already gone over that shit in spades. When I say ‘don’t exist’, what I mean is they can no longer be there for yours truly. I just have to fucking lump it. Every Goddamn day. I feel this every Goddamn day without fail. I become driven to understand why the torment is so powerful and then come up with an empty sack. I see imagery in my head – some from fictional entertainment, a bit due to beauty that’s been close to home, and others from my real past – and sit here trying to put the feelings of loss into words. My tools are important to me, as are the camera and my computers. Some keepsakes from the past, too. And the knives? Sort of. Two wristwatches. What else? Nothing tangible. The most important (read: dire) aspects of life have been torn away and are now so distant that I can barely imagine where I’ve been, let alone where I need to be. Curious... Years ago some of my possessions were necessary for my very survival. Now? I’ve tossed half of them to the winds due to learning just a tiny smidgen of what I need to be satisfied and comfortable in life. I did not say ‘happy’ for good reason because that word is on a level I do not understand. The point is, the memories hit me in the head every fucking day and cause massive, chronic damage no matter the effort I put forth to get through the hours on my feet. Do I sound like I’m complaining? YOU make the call. I don’t understand any of this and probably never will. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. As I keep stating... The little enjoyments are all I have left in the world. When they fail to achieve, I will go away. At least I will no longer feel such pain. I’ll be driving to the City again this morning. Just a quick trip up and back for business, and then the remainder of the day will be all mine. The drive will be much like yesterday, meaning I’ll be scanning the areas for anything striking. Yesterday there was one very tall woman on a corner looking like a million bucks, but such a sight is very rare. Most of the time there are just average, everyday people out and about. Seeing something special only hurts more, but I can’t fucking help it. I am too far gone now. The hour is late, for sure. Upon returning, I suppose I’ll do my usual Sunday stuff and maybe work in the garage again. All the while, my heart will be breaking and my head hurting from all that has been either lost or torn away. Soon I’ll have to ask anyone reading this drivel to tell me why I am doing anything at all. Right now the only plus I see to the day will be the comfort in arriving home after the drive. That always feels good because I don’t like being out there near other people. There was a quick shot of Nora in which her beautiful thigh-gap was visible (from a bit of a distance, but still not bad). When I saw it, something inside me clicked and my head swung a one-eighty from productive thought and typing to rampant desire to be all over her midsection until I run out of breath in this life. How does that happen? Tell me, please. Maybe the losses are racking more quickly than I can deal with each one individually, or perhaps I just long for too much of the past. The world is different. I am very different. None of that shit can take place anymore. The last three sentences could be the reasons there is so much pain inside when I look at Nora’s legs. I am still trying to understand myself. A good portion of why this process does not seem to ever get anywhere is that I have to keep a few key details out of the fucking content, and results in a ton of information I must avoid sharing. The process is very restrictive and exhausting. These painful feelings happen quite often and Nora is simply the latest example of the fall. The images come and go. Oh, Chelsea. Please let me... Help me. 1110. Part of my Sunday business is finished, including going through the refrigerator. I have one hell of a head start on the housework. My chores are so far along, in fact, that the morning cocktail is already gone. Now I have hours to myself for whatever seems best or most pressing. And Holly just reinforced my disdain for a personality trait that is so off-putting that I can’t find the fucking words. Anyway, earlier I was convinced that any suggestion of passing the time without falling off a cliff was impossible, whereas the time ahead appears slightly improved over my early mindset. Don’t get me wrong; the issues remain inside my head no matter what kind of advantage I might feel after accomplishing so much. I am angry again, just like Dave stated all those years ago. Angry. There was no drive to the City this morning because the time system has been all fucked up for the last few days. This is better, actually, because having so much finished prior to having free time is good for my head (sometimes). I need help so badly right now that my thoughts are bordering upon recklessness in the worst way. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Believe me... You don’t wanna know.’ Monday morning has arrived. The importance of the peace and quiet inherent in this house during the weekdays cannot be overstated right now. Nora is wearing jeans, and not that shit you may see out there these days, either. I am talking about the proper cut and fit. God she is gorgeous. Anyway, the house will be just what I need today. 1105. The au pair waving to me a little while ago brought all of the shit back to my brain after I worked around the house and felt a little better. Shit. Whatever. There will always be something. At least it wasn’t Nora this time. Reality may not hold up to fiction, but that girl stirs me every fucking time. Her gait is adorable, along with flowing hair and a big smile when she waves. This will not change, either. My garage is perpetually in ‘do not approach’ mode, especially concerning such forms. I have to remain at a distance or my brain will not function properly. My routine is finished and I’ll be doing some laundry in and around whatever else happens today. The printer (after twelve fucking years) is actually worthless, but I was able to order a new one for very little money which will be arriving tomorrow. I need the ability to copy and print, nothing more. When I first purchased the previous printer, I was routinely creating large-format prints of some of my digital images. I don’t need to do that anymore, so less features and a smaller carriage are fine. I’m sure the new printer will serve me for several years. The cost was less than a quarter of the previous model. And since it is cocktail hour, I decided to relax in the office for a while and express myself here. Tuesday is here, for whatever it may be worth. I’ve been reading, watching video media and listening to a ‘mature’ driver course intended to lower the cost of my car insurance renewal (boring as hell, but what the fuck) since yesterday, hence the limited writing. The time is 1116 today and I finished the routine early in order to read through a few chapters so I can finish the entire course prior to renewing my policy. A moment ago, I decided to play some mellow music in the background whenever I’m reading and don’t need to hear the audio attached to some of the video lessons. Well, the music choice brought my mind all the way back to the glowing years. It is so poignant and important to me, in fact, that I ceased the lesson and decided to reflect upon who I am and how I arrived in this depressing locale. What I find absolutely amazing is just how quickly these compositions can send me back in time and derail whatever else seemed pressing. Oh, and the track that just began is the very first my mom and I noticed while waiting for my dad in the Goodguys store in Dublin roughly thirty-five years ago when the world was still full of wonder and possibility. My brain is currently computing methods for demonstrating the vast power of my mood while near other people so they can attempt to digest the damage which has created the person they see. I am going to leave the driver bullshit alone for a while and focus upon the pitfalls and lost promise of the place in which I now reside. This is permanent, to be sure. For reasons of good form, I will say that the music in the background is a compilation created from works dating prior to nineteen ninety. The intermissions have been necessary because I can’t think straight most of the time and must go on with daily drivel rather than being creative in any way. I can honestly say that at this very moment my head is in the worst place it has ever inhabited in more than fifty-six years. Maybe I have lived a long life, and maybe not. I suppose the reference standard for such an observation is different for each individual. Along such lines, my current quandary is to decide whether or not a second glass of whiskey is a good idea. The short answer is no, yet inside me is a powerful desire to go straight off the deep end and cease this shit for all time. And yes, the fucking music has a hand in my current mindset. Nothing can ever be as beautiful as the period just after my mom and me hearing the first song over an audio system sitting on an endcap in the electronics store so many years ago. Nothing. Believe it, motherfucks. What I am hearing right now is more powerful than anything before or since. I am abusing the speakers and my hearing at the same time, yet neither seems to matter. I think my new printer was just dropped on the porch. The delivery driver did not seem to understand where the music was emanating. Heh. At least I’m not in the garage right now. That always puts off those who are unfamiliar with me. One more time? Heh. I don’t fucking care anymore. I am sitting mere feet from where the driver placed the package, yet the Low-E coating on surface three of these windows tends to disallow viewing what may be taking place on the opposite side. Look it up. Three wishes right now: One, to go back and feel the wonder again. Two, to find a way to traverse this pain and come out the other side in an improved condition. Three? You don’t want to know. One is impossible. Two is unlikely after two decades of effort. As for three, well... I guess the situation has not yet become so dire. Would you like a finer point placed on the third option? I will kill myself if there is no true wonder or hope apparent in the near future. I prefer others to remain unable to understand the way I feel. I need something that is all my own. I also need to know that their questions cannot be answered, nor do I wish to be stereotyped. Most days, I find myself seeking ways of causing further confusion. The next track is going to bring tears to my eyes. Let us become drunk. The driving-related lessons are on hold until tomorrow. Vodka. Yay. I still need to treat a stain on one jacket and then run a load of dry cleaning. I’ll get to it soon, perhaps the next time I head to the garage for a break. Wednesday. Yesterday revealed to me that there is a problem I need to alleviate, and the effort has to begin immediately. What does this mean? One of my little enjoyments must be truncated. I am not happy about it, although there are a few upsides, none of which I am willing to discuss here. The bottom line is that the next few weeks are going to be very difficult. Anyway, in roughly an hour I have to make the drive into the City like last weekend. I am not looking forward to the potential for traffic so late in the morning (about 0800), but at least I can be comfortable in the car. Better than nothing. Upon returning, I’ll have to think about altering myself a bit and get the new process of truncation started. I’ll probably end up in a shitty mood. My head went through quite a bit of crap yesterday morning, so I decided to finish off the motorcycle work and straighten the area somewhat. Did the work help? Eh... I don’t know. I seemed to hit a wall during the mid-morning and barely recovered by the end of business hours. The music rather catalyzed my feelings, too, meaning I’ll have to avoid certain compositions for a while as I transition into this new daily way of thinking. The other feelings are still there because there is nothing I can do about them. 1142. The drive was uneventful. We stopped at both markets on the way back, too, although my new diet means all of the fun stuff had to be passed. Curious, all of the typical yummy foods which have risen in cost over the last few years were on sale, yet due to the change in my eating habits, I picked up exactly none of them. Arliss Howard is awesome. Unfortunately, his character is quite the asshole. Heh. Whatever. He can probably eat whatever he wants. At some point I will have to return to the driving lessons (ha!) and continue my efforts in lowering the car insurance bill. I have enough time to complete the entire course prior to renewing, too. This is a very good thing. I suppose age has its advantages. Better than nothing. Willa is on the screen with her unbelievably well-sculpted thighs. Ugh. Shut up. I also set up the new printer and it is ready to go. The unit is much smaller than my older ‘wide carriage’ printer, too. That means it fits here on the table with the rest of the computer. Very nice. I can reconfigure the drafting table soon. Nicole’s lips are a universe all their own. Just a thought. I’d love to be given an opportunity right now. Isn’t all this exciting? Nope. Thursday morning is here and I can already feel a problem brewing at only 0656. 0824. I missed something a few minutes ago, and the feeling of loss was more acute due to a pair of news anchors on the television this morning. I had been preparing everything and trying to straighten as I worked and had the news in the background. Well, as I predicted earlier, a problem arose out of nowhere and left me with a diminished ability to think clearly. I very nearly used the word ‘unfair’, but most of the time I know better. I am just not in a position in life to be where I must in order to survive. This is a rather heart-wrenching situation sometimes, the present morning being no different. I can’t just move around the house and let everything go because the feelings are dire, nor can I seem to work through and actually feel good during the average day. There has to be some sort of middle ground which allows me to carry out whatever work needs to be accomplished while avoiding a breakdown. As of yet, I have only found one or the other to be the case, most of the time being able to do at least the minimum even when a bad situation develops. I don’t like to be angry, but the more I think about the current situation, the more I realize the causes cannot be mitigated. Hence my repeated statements regarding understanding ears. I know they may help, but at the same time there is so much fear that I worry the outcome could be worse than the initial problem,much like the treatment actually being worse than the disease. When I realized there was a missed opportunity, my head formulated two outcomes: One, I see something and then become distraught, or two, I miss it and have a difficult time dealing with the loss. Isn’t that peachy? I finished two chapters of the driving course this morning. There is one more but I need to take a break and polish off the coffee before going further. I keep thinking about the doors of life, as well. The driving course is very straightforward (if boring) and will be out of the way later this morning, whereas the doors keep popping up in my mind and derailing whatever I may be trying to consider. I am lost and cannot see any possibilities on the horizon that might help me. The right pair of ears likely exists out there but I will never find them. What I need is very specific, meaning a rarity. The need is growing, as well. I am on a road with no turns. 1100 straight up. I finished the online driving course and will be sending my certificate to the insurance company by next Monday. Very nice. As I already said somewhere up the page, the material is rather boring, but since I try to be a person with integrity, nothing was skipped and I read every single word of the material as well as watched every video from beginning to end. I will not be full of shit when it comes to an insurance discount. I don’t have the type of personality for deceiving anyone in order to take a fucking shortcut. That’s just not me. So... The course is finished and I can reap the benefits when all is said and done. Moreover, I found myself partially preoccupied with the central issue in life during the entire course, even going so far as to pause at key points when something physically attractive was displayed within the content. I am a basket case, and such a statement is far worse than anyone else can possibly realize. Just believe me... The processes inside my head right now are not to be shared with anyone. They are very bad and I am not proud of such a fact. One of the key issues with which I’ve been forced to deal during the last few years is that my current mindset has been created by other people. Yes, I said ‘other people’. Believe it. I am not in the custom of lying about anything, least of all the way I feel each and every fucking day. My emotional condition is at an all-time low. If and when this state of mind can no longer be dealt with through any means, I will be fucking dead. Read that sentence again. Just... BELIEVE. The only plus to my new diet is there will be no reduction in the consumption of alcohol. And yes, I realize the liquid enjoyment is a depressant, so shut your fucking mouth right now. Another intermission may follow this one. The muse is gone for the time being and I have no idea of how to get it back. My head is completely sideways. I made it through Thursday. Last night I tried to go with the flow a bit, too. Fortunately, I didn’t lose my shit and the evening was very short. I feel much different being out there these days than I did a year ago or more. Perhaps the idea of lighting up the empire and being sociable is worn the hell out after all this time. Whatever the case, I’m content to remain inside the house during most evenings. More now than ever, to be honest. I need to be as isolated as possible most of the time in order to offset the discomfort inherent in holding up a wall in front of people. I may not like the idea, but it is very necessary for my survival. And in case anyone begins to believe that I am improving at all, I missed something this morning and feel as if my life is a tad shorter than prior to the loss. I could have... Never mind. My needs don’t fucking matter, anyway. Jesus Harold Christ in a data packet... For whatever reason, any communication with Apple cloud information has been painfully slow for the last few days. I don’t understand, and as is the custom of late, any searches for answers yield others asking the same questions with no helpful solutions. I can’t stand it when something suddenly begins to misbehave for no apparent reason. They always tell people the same shit, too... Reboot this, reboot that, change the cabling, update the software... You know. Nothing ever changes because the companies always assume that users are causing all of the problems. The truth is some of us know precisely what we are doing. Many people, actually. Eh... Whatever. I’ll try to work around the problem. 0920. I am still sipping coffee and streaming my program over on the right-hand display. The cloud does not want to sync properly for whatever reason, so I’ve gone to the RAID in order to organize the information there prior to moving some things around. Willa’s eyes are incredibly dark. Wow. 1254. What have I been doing? I don’t know. The daily routine is out of the way and I had lunch. I listed another auction, too. The big knife is up for grabs. I believe that one represents the last of the redundancy. As bad as yesterday now appears, today should prove to be better because I don’t have that wallowing feeling inside, nor am I completely out of gas in the middle of the day. I think as long as something is accomplished – regardless of how large or small – the outlook brightens. That’s how I feel right now, anyway. I am again waiting for the evening. Hopefully, it will feel deserved. Today may also be the day my neighbor will need help installing a new starter in his old car. I’m happy to assist with tools or whatever. If the project doesn’t happen, well, that’s fine. As of this very moment, I don’t know what to do with the rest of the time today. The morning was fucked up and I haven’t fully recovered. At least the auction is live so I can watch it develop for a week. Oh, I did send my driving course certificate to the insurance company so the discount can be applied. That’s something. Bailey’s thighs again.... I may have to switch the media to something else because there are delicate parts of her which will weave their way into me and ruin my day. I will say the best part of this scene is Chris Bauer’s acting prowess, though, not Bailey. And right on the heels of that crap is Nicole again with her unbelievably slender yet shapely features. Damn. That’s all I’m going to say right now. I honestly don’t feel very good about myself today. I have to improve the state of my mind. 1528. I helped with the starter motor project and everything went to shit in roughly an hour. It seems that after installation, removal and some testing on the bench, the new starter is defective. I even double-checked the part number to no avail. We’re going to have to wait for another to be shipped and then try again. Ugh. At least my tools never fail. Now I have some of the afternoon left to relax prior to making revolutions for dinner. Oh, and during the automotive work, I saw those damned legs again. No, the other ones. It seems every fucking time I see her, she eventually ends up either facing directly toward me or the opposite, effectively melting my brain due to some of the most stirring lines to cross my vision in years. She lives in the neighborhood. Splendid. Anyway, the next couple of hours should be peaceful. I'm tired of living this way."
Another Fuckin' Intermission?
Mature content No. 391 Published August 11th, 2023 3:47pm pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Eh... I don’t know what to say anymore. Tuesday is here. What does it mean? Nothing, really. The most important aspect of the morning is all of the free time I have ahead of me. Intermission is most decidedly NOT over. 1149. I went to the market and saw something which destroyed the inside of my head. Thank Christ I was not closer than fifty feet. The resulting pain would have most likely caused me to consider the final solution and the way my mind has changed in the space of roughly fourteen months. I can’t fucking think about the change right now. I just can’t. I simply could not believe what I was seeing, suffice to say that by the time I entered the market to shop, the rest of the world melted away and I finished my trip with all haste. Jesus, I wish I had not seen her. Very bad. I can honestly say that I have never felt as fucked up in fifty-plus years as I do right now. That is not a joke, nor am I overstating the case. This is so bad that the little daily enjoyments are going to have to work harder to hold me up and keep me out of the fucking soil. Wednesday is here. In a little while I have to drive someone to the City, return home, and then wait for the call to pick up. The drives will break up my day a bit, but should be out of the way by noon or so. I shall be overjoyed when today’s responsibilities are finished. Overjoyed. I prefer driving when I feel like it rather than at the request of others, yet this situation is something I simply must do for them. Time will pass and I’ll be home soon enough, though. As I said before, anything outside my typical realm helps to ensure I appreciate being home nearly all of the time. I should be leaving the house in twenty-two minutes. Thursday has landed on my porch with nary a concern for my well-being. The day just shows up as if someone ordered it from the menu, when the opposite is typically true. There are positives today, however, beginning with the fact that I do not have to leave this house at all, quite the reverse of yesterday. Another is having all of my daily devices in place to help ensure my comfort while home. I guess that’s it for now. The driving yesterday really took its toll, so being able to take it easier today will help. The operation of dropoff and pickup comprised roughly six hours, including one hour here during the mid-morning so I could take care of some business, and then more time spent waiting in the City before we were free to drive back. Ooh-fa, that was a lot of time spent in the car and two different rooms at the hospital. I knew at the time that if I could focus upon today and knowing all the bullshit was behind me, the day would pass as it should. I was right, and here I sit in an improved frame of mind (mostly). Holy Jesus fucking hell is Nora ever stunning. Wow. I love her, just like the other two. Ugh. Leave it. Another problem popped up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon and I was in no position to record my thoughts. I simply had to remain upright and hold it together, but inside me was another cyclone of imagery, memories and loss. Since there is never any recourse, the result was nothing more than another lost rung on the ladder of life. I was all over the City yesterday and saw absolutely nothing, only to return home to something I really don’t need to see, yet at the same time I am desperate for more. This is very bad and I don’t know what to do. I’ll finish the coffee soon and then distract myself from the dire feelings inside, knowing the entire time that everything is either fake or merely on the surface. Depth cannot be explored here for too many reasons to list. The bottom line is that I desire her way too much to remain balanced and there is nothing I can do about it (like so many other situations in recent years). I will see her again and fall down. Each occasion destroys another small part of me. One day there will be nothing left. I don’t know how long these intermissions will go on. The other story is still on hold because I can’t find the muse and feel like shit all the fucking time. I have fallen prey to the squishing and routing for too long to consider any recovery as feasible. There is only one direction from here. All I can do is transmit my thoughts through the keyboard and try to find ways of enjoying some comfort. Everything will end soon enough. Hadley is adorable but her face is too round. The other one? The faerie? Don’t get me started. 1009. I am overjoyed to be home today, especially considering the severely truncated amount of free time I had yesterday. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a nice fat cocktail sitting here on the table. My brain has been inside the fictional nether regions of certain individuals and I can’t seem to stop the process. Yes, I said fictional. Think of the two machines from my stories. Fictional. Unreal. Mechanical. Just what I need every fucking minute of every fucking day. This will never stop, either, because there has been far too much damage for me to entertain any notion of reality fulfilling my needs and dreams. The doorstep will never darken. The recourse does not exist. The fantasy failed years ago. The sinful realm rules all too often and I can’t do anything about it. There have been entirely too many strikes, from the iniquitous to the evil. I still worship fervently, yet the truth is no one knows, meaning said worship does not matter. My feelings no longer matter. ‘I think I no longer matter’. You don’t know the song, but I do. Intimately. There is Nora again. One of the three. If I could just enter the story that is the third show, all of this could be negated within minutes. Otherwise? The downward trajectory continues. At least some of the housework is finished. Salome is about to make a huge mistake, bless her dead soul. You wanna talk about beautiful breasts? Holy bleeding fuck in an unlined bra... She isn’t real. Maybe instead of the third series, I can venture into the realm of the faeries. Some of them are unbelievably well-formed. Ugh. This situation just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. For reasons of good form, I need to repeat the exchange from the current program: 'Eller was right, you fucking prick, and you just got him killed!' ‘That’s enough, Private!’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’ The day’s ambition is waning. I’ll probably restrict my work to the office for the duration. I can list another auction and straighten this room, and then perhaps spend some time considering the long story that has fallen partially by the wayside. I can’t have that because the narrative is far too important to my frame of mind. I don’t speak out loud; I must speak with my keyboard. And speaking of speaking, I see Deborah as a person, whereas Jessica is an object. Interesting. I am not a bad person, just one who has been thrust into a terrible place by the actions and words of others. Believe it, motherfucks. Oh, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and I realize some of this shit is my own fault, but not everything. No fucking way. Routed. Squished. Disregarded. This is why I find it so difficult to find ambition. There is too much damage inside for me to swing my mood to more productive and positive places. As the days pass, the slide will continue. I pray the slope never increases, but at the same time such a circumstance is wholly expected. I have to maintain the facade for the benefit of others because my little slices of comfort require such bullshit. I’ve become very adept at appearing as if at least some of me is ok. The hour is still fairly early. Plenty of time to do whatever seems best. Hoyt is in a bad way right now. Too bad, because he was one of the most balanced characters until Jessica tossed him aside. I guess I can’t blame Hoyt for acting out because I’ve done it on several occasions, the last of which was less than a week ago and I still regret my behavior. I am only human, but that seems no good excuse anymore. Every now and again I become angry and decide to ‘swing the hammer’, leaving my head full of remorse more often than not. I am angry right now, too. The idea of lashing out feels right. I have learned otherwise, though. Nothing I do while angry is going to change the situation. The typical result is me feeling as if I either spoke too much or perhaps realizing that I am helpless in this life. The Ifrit is about to cause a circumstance which leads to the dialog I mentioned above. It’s supposed to be frightening, too, but anymore all I do is laugh at the exchange. In order to bridge this stupid shit to the on-hold story, watching the media play on the right-hand display reminds me of the second door. And yes, I now realize it was a fucking door, so don’t give me a blast of shit. Actors. Production people. Cameras of the most wondrous type. Editing. Beauty. Film. Yep... Film. I already know what Julia is going to say. Anyway, I must state that after yesterday’s hours of driving and my broken-up time at home, today is a Godsend. I really needed peace and quiet today. I needed it almost as much as I currently need... Never mind. The pain never goes away. Pain inside and outside. Pain in my head and elsewhere. I am beginning to believe that there is not a fucking soul who cares. You may already know what can result from such a position in life. Sometimes when I see her, desperate words fly through my head. During other times, I recall past situations in which I was exactly where I needed to be. And further? I believe that the one little compartment inside my brain that continues to calculate the external results of suicide is at war with my intentions and dreams. I guess there is still some part of me that hopes for a change. When that part is gone, all is lost. I have the means. The doors must return soon. I never felt any desire toward Pam. Interesting. Maybe I’ve identified with her need to be ‘turned’ to the point of respecting such a decision, and the image of her five-nine stance, bulging breasts and full lips melted away because I knew that her desperation was a match to mine. Rather than wishing to be all over her skin, I wanted to free myself from the shackles of this fucking sordid life and vicariously experienced it through Pam achieving what she needed. I cannot, meaning when I see her beauty on the screen, all I can feel is respect for her decision to die. I still can’t make the same decision. I can’t fucking do it. Not right now. Believe me, the sheer amount of inner strength and restraint required in dealing with other people these days is almost enough to break me in half. I closed the garage door. Very exciting. Sometimes I don’t want others to know that I am ‘available’ for pleasant conversation. Nothing currently playing out inside my head is pleasant. Trust me. Friday morning, 0811. Everything may go sideways very soon. I don’t know yet, but maybe. The early business is out of the way and I have hours to myself, thank the maker. A dream shortly before I woke has me gripped by the past and seeing a face I’ve not considered for a very long time. She was beautiful, staring at me with tearful eyes, and had answered a question I asked a moment earlier. And then everything hit me in the face and I remember it all. Damn it. I guess I’ll have to deal with her memory for a while. Our relationship in reality was not as I felt in the dream, yet her answer to my question pretty much cemented the way she felt for decades. I feel pretty fucking bad right now even though none of it really happened. Maybe the subject is supposed to help me learn something, like the doors. One certainty is that she was definitely not a door, but the lesson could be tertiary. I have to take some time and consider the past again. The desperate words from yesterday are still running in circles. Treading? I don’t know. There are missing pieces to consider which have now been exacerbated by the dream. Just what I needed. Thanks, world. And you can fuck right off. I made nice yesterday afternoon but I don’t see it happening today. I just can’t right now. The fact is the more I have to hold the facade and be completely full of shit, the more tiresome the days become. The feeling has been increasing lately, too. I can’t do anything about this, either. I just have to sit on everything as if I am constantly pounding sand on the beach. Going nowhere, just as I had predicted years ago. There is plenty I can do around the house and garage, anyway. I do not want to be unkind, meaning I’ll have to remain unavailable to avoid being forced into a stance that makes me very uncomfortable. I also saw that girl again yesterday which does not help. And another? Yep... I ventured to my neighbor’s garage to look at some oil pans and caught a square sight of something very special across the street, and from an angle to which I am not accustomed due to the angle of the court with respect to this house. She was fucking amazing and I stared the entire time as she strolled up the driveway. Jesus. Combined with seeing the other one, the best path today may be to remain indoors and keep my brain out of harm’s way. That means zero socializing. I’m too tired to sit here and be pleasant while very damaging images and words fly through my head. I’m just too fucking tired for more of that. I need a break.
And I think my printer of twelve years took a crap. Damn. 1032. Routine? Finished. Cocktail? Fuck yes. I don’t feel very well this morning. What’s wrong? No idea. I made the decision to remain in the house all day, too. My car needs fuel prior to the City drive tomorrow, so I’ll fill the tank early tomorrow morning rather than going out today. My head is in a bad way yet again. A disastrous morning always leaves me sans ambition. Everything is just shit right now. I am in no mood to deal with other people, so remaining indoors seems like the best idea for me as well as them. ‘Brother, I want to...’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Nora.’ Aw geez... That’s one of the great loves of my life you’re disrespecting there, buddy. Go easy, please. Anyway... Nora has the prime facial trait, much like what’s-her-name in all those Hallmark movies. What is it? I’ll remember soon enough. The point is such a trait makes my heart bleed, to be honest. I see Nora’s beautiful face and melt into a puddle of goo every fucking time. Ah... It’s Lacey. Both faces are very pronounced and I still don’t know why such an appearance drives me to experience so much emotion. The trait has never been a physical thing, either. Other feelings are much more important. I just wish I could understand why. I believe the girl in the dream this morning opened yet another door to the past and left me very emotional to begin with, and then adding Nora’s face to the pile only served to leave me completely heeled over for the umpteenth time. I really didn’t need that fucking dream, damn it. I love Jolene, Jamie and Nora almost equally, a fact which is very telling of my current condition. I can’t keep saying I am grossly out of balance because it’s nowhere near enough. Jolaimora. You may be wondering about the spelling, seeing as how I transposed Jamie and Jaime years ago and had to go back and correct several essays. Well, the reasoning behind the name ‘Jaime’ being a part of the combination is due to two different factors from the beginning of the pandemic, just over three years ago. One is the name I attached to the images from San Diego – which was born of the fictional Jaime (the machine, remember?) – and the other grew from that unknown woman. Jaime was the name I attached to my desperate, ridiculous and fruitless search for ‘her’. Hence, Jolaimora. And keep in mind that I am in love with fictional characters, not real people. I don’t know them and don’t need to. I could go into how all this shit relates to the third show, but I already look bad enough. Additional descriptions are unnecessary. You may already know, anyway. I am so far out of fucking balance that sometimes when I think about ending up this way I can barely put things together in my head. And? Only Nora has the prime trait. One of three. I can’t see the CD changer girl anymore, the rollercoaster girl has a very different face, and the race girl was even more distant from the typical darkness that I find so attractive. I am quite certain that the CD changer girl did not share Nora’s beautiful trait. This is all so fucking insane. Fictional characters. Hmm. I believe such feelings are about as unhealthy as possible. Nora is wearing leather pants that show off her lines. I don’t love her because of the lines. The face is always first. I’ve seen some fucking unreal lines and dimensions which defy the mind, yet all too often there is a face atop everything that is frightening for one reason or another; sometimes several reasons at the same time or combined. Nora just happens to have one of the most unique faces I’ve ever seen. Good God... At least I don’t feel that the situation and my feelings are unfair. That would be stupid. I know the ways of the world and what I am. Um... I am no one at all. And Nora is the main topic because she’s in the program I’ve been following for the last few weeks. That will change. One more time for accentuation and posterity... Reality is for shit and I am in love with fictional characters. Read that ten times and then calculate what must be happening inside my broken brain. Go for it. And keep in mind that only some of what I feel ends up here. Most of the shit is still hidden away for safety. Some of what goes on inside would land me in very bad places. Believe it. On the other side of things, I see that the other Jamie (Danielle is the character’s name) is in this and the next several episodes. She is in stark contrast to Nora in that I’d like to lick all the parts of her that are covered in clothing. Is that bad? Does saying such a thing narrow the vision of readers? Are you offended? It’s just a desire. A very strong desire, but only desire nonetheless. Most of those types of feelings remain hidden within most people and I have evidenced the gradient. I’ve seen and heard it. So, if I sit here and see Jamie on the screen and physically desire such a woman, what does that make me? Exactly... Just a person with feelings. Go fuck yourself. And remember... There are two Jamies in this entry. One is all about love. The other? Sex. Live with it. Have I successfully conveyed the way I feel about Nora? Probably not. Nothing is ever enough. Are you sick and tired of hearing it? There will be more. As I said... Nothing can ever be enough. Nothing. The word pervades my life. Help granny make the bed. I am losing my mind a bit more each day. I can feel pieces of my brain falling away like wet cake in a rainstorm. Marvelous. 1132. My drink is nearly gone. The plan is to return to the kitchen and put away the dishes and such, and then have some leftovers for lunch. Once everything is finished, I’m going to head to the garage and unbox a bunch of things that were dropped off months ago from her parents’ house. I would like to have the garage streamlined a bit more. The dinner plan will begin in about two hours because I’m making some ‘porcupine’ meatballs in the slow cooker, meaning I need to have them assembled and browned prior to 1400. They will be accompanied by fried potatoes because I have apparently become an expert with the preparation and cooking of the same. I like preparing dinner early because by the time the evening arrives, there is very little to do. Moreover, I can thrash the kitchen during the day and have everything cleaned up prior to the relaxation. Oh my fucking God... Nora is so far beyond beautiful that I have to invent words for an adequate description. Holy shit... Here comes Lilith, all five-ten of her frame and a pair of eyes that are darker than anything else imaginable. Am I a basket case? Yep. I’ve never denied such. Anyway, The kitchen work will be accompanied by the third show, just like earlier this morning. I love those people. They are my family. In addition, the knife that I am going to list for auction is enjoying new batteries for the digital display functions and its built-in flashlight. I’ll have to capture some nice images and then list it later today, perhaps after the slow cooker is operating. Considering all of the issues in my head and heart, I am forever thankful for the time and space to care for whatever is necessary for the smooth operation of the household. I still don’t know when the story of the doors will continue. I need to feel it, and right now all I feel is loss. Hopefully, the dinner preparations and housework will help to calm my head enough to find my muse. Pause for the cause. 1400 straight up is what I see on the little clocks. The meatballs are in the slow cooker and the kitchen has been cleaned again. There will be one more dish prepared in the next hour, and that is a salad, the type of which will be much more flavorful after melding in the fridge for a few hours. Closer to dinner time, I’ll fry some potatoes as the second side dish. For right now, though, I need to be off my feet for a little bit. My back is beginning to suffer. I saw her again, all beautiful flowing hair and yoga pants. For reasons of good form along with some faux medicinal purposes (read: weakness), I have a lovely glass of the foggy blue sitting here next to the keyboard. After gazing at her again, I need something... Well, you know. Anyway, aside from the aforementioned salad and slicing of taters, I’ll be relaxing for the remainder of the afternoon. I won’t even get into seeing Nora for the third time today. Too much. Seeing her is not good for me but I cannot avoid looking and dreaming. This is what I have become after all of the sentient weaponry, squishing, and the like. I have been affected too much to cease gazing at that beauty when she is within view (it’s rare). And I don’t know what the fuck is with the faeries sometimes, but in the present scene there are six and every one of them is aligned with the information with which I’ve been obsessed for decades. Every Goddamned one of them, no shit. I am not kidding. The side view of two of them walking at a normal pace is staggering to the mind. Sometimes this series is crap, but during other times it is a wonderland of lines and beauty. Mostly the former, though. Whatever. Where was I? Ah... The girl I see on occasion. This neighborhood has its fair share of picturesque forms, believe me, but the girl in question tends to stand out much of the time. At least what I saw today was not as bad as the last occasion. I think my eyes almost blew right the fuck out of my skull that day. Jesus. My head is so fucked up that the sheer need to see whatever I can is overpowering and interrupts whatever else may be happening at the time. I am desperate to see more, too. None of this shit is going to change for the better. Do I feel pain when I see her? Oh, yes. Plenty. Do I look anyway? Of course. I don’t know how else to live anymore. Call me whatever you wish. None of it could be worse than the words swirling inside my head right now. When I refer to the ‘damaging’ dreams, well... Just trust me. There is far more desire inside my brain than what slides off this keyboard. Oh, Nora. Please hold me and make all the bad go away. Please... Just hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I love you. Holy God... You wanna talk about a unique face? She is unbelievable and I can never say enough. There are times when my heart swells for her to the point of pushing Jamie down a notch. Does anyone care? Nope. Go on with your own shit and forget me. Guess what? Nora is on the screen again, wearing a gorgeous black blouse and sporting impeccable makeup. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? I don’t care. I feel what I feel and very little of it is based in reality. The truth is the real world has hurt me far too much for consideration, the past years and fantasy worlds easily taking priority over said pain. I could live inside Nora’s fucking hair forever and not need anything more. Just imagine the scent in there... Shut up. ‘Take that off, remove the other one, and then put the first piece back on. Now just stand there for a few minutes while I try to understand what I am seeing. Quarter turn to the left. Stop. Thank you.’
1734. Everything is finished. Dinner will be a simple affair thanks to my early efforts in the kitchen. This is the type of evening that I enjoy, too. Work throughout the day adds up to less work as the dinner hour approaches. Very nice. I just wish my head was as organized as the housework. The au pair went by a little while ago and waved to me like always. I’m really glad she doesn’t know what goes through my brain when she smiles in my direction. It’s best no one knows. Maybe she would hold me and tell me all those things I so badly need to hear. Eh... Maybe not. Everything along such lines is nothing more than a series of pipe dreams. Saturday morning is here. In an hour I have to drive to the City and back, as has become the custom for the last few weekends. I don’t mind, honestly, but would prefer to go as early as possible. Today we won’t be leaving until about 0830. Whatever. Upon returning, I’ll be nice and comfortable like yesterday. Nora is looking stunning this morning in a purple dress, and I rarely like dresses. She could be in a burlap sack and still outshine almost everyone else in the world. Anyway, I took care of a decent amount of business yesterday, so maybe today I can get around to trimming the front tree some more. Perhaps I can work on the bike again, too. I really need to get things organized out there for my own peace of mind. Dinner ended up being really good last night so I am planning to reheat the leftovers for tonight. Sometimes I can’t get the image of her out of my head, and other times it is more of a ‘situation’ commanding my attention. She pulls me away from myself with all haste. The past does at times, too, but those are memories and long gone, whereas she is real and nearby on occasion. Either those two topics ruin my ability to get through a typical day, or a third pops into mind for whatever reason – mostly everything that has been lost – and derails me for hours on end. I have recently learned that lashing out solves nothing and no longer feels good. I have also realized that my anger can lead nowhere and usually turns right back on me. Nothing helps and since I have no recourse for these powerful feelings, at some point I believe I will have to put an end to everything. ‘Bottled-in a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession.’ I have become a mere fraction of what I once achieved in life, only some of which is carried within. The rest was external. The more I think about everything, the angrier I become, and then I feel like lashing out in some random direction. The problem is, I already know nothing will change, so I end up just sitting here stewing about everything and my insides become very uncomfortable. My life has become nothing more than an impossible conundrum, one which is tearing me up inside. One of the three will slam me at some point each day. Yesterday there was a horrible lack of understanding that led me to and then through disaster, all the while those fucking smiling faces were floating about as if to taunt me and cement my disappointment in life. No matter what kind of enjoyment I can squeeze out of a given day, my mood will undoubtedly be tripped up sooner or later and leave me more depressed than the previous day. The little enjoyments continue to shrink. The symptoms will not leave me alone, ever. I don’t fucking see the reasoning here. Days roll over me like a piece of farm equipment, and as they do I see more and more, yet understand less and less. I don’t see any of this changing unless I force the issue, but if and when I decide to put the kibosh to such a huge lack of understanding, I won’t be able to do anything, ever. Does that mean I have hope? YOU make the call. Same Saturday. The time is now 1639, as if it matters anymore. I trimmed the front tree more with the help of my neighbor’s saw, took care of the usual daily business, had lunch, but I don’t know what to do with the rest of the afternoon. I’ve been spinning my wheels for the last hour or so. Finding the story’s direction again seems a world away these days. There are chiclets on the screen a la Jessica and her never-ending eyelashes. Whatever. I am so lost. Nora is wearing purple. This is no way to live. I keep saying something must happen, but what? I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this shit, either. Patience is finite. Well, I hadn’t much of that to begin with, so use your imagination. ‘I choose you.’ Um, ok. That’s fine. ‘I choose you.’ Nope, sorry. You already chose Bill over Salome. ‘I choose you.’ Again... Too late. Third try. It ain’t gonna be Nora. ‘I choose you.’ Nice try, princess. After three failures, the odds don’t favor Kibwe, either. Heh. I am still pissed off, but that sequence is funny. And don’t get me started on the fantastic Jessica Clark and her bloody skin. Sunday. The feelings overtake me too often. Years ago, I did not become distraught every single day. The issue was more like a small breakdown that took place on occasion, and usually only during serious downtime. I did not become overly tormented or lost when I saw something. Now, keep in mind during that period I nearly threw everything into the wind to be where I needed (for the third time) and recovering from such feelings took quite a bit of time. Some of it never went away, to be honest, but at least when I tried to relax and enjoy myself, the required effort to do so was nowhere near as great as during the present time. I did not dwell as much because circumstances were very different. Well, things continued to change and eventually became so truncated that I did not see any way around actually losing my mind. I still can’t go into specifics here, damn it, or everything would be pretty damned clear. I lost my way yesterday for quite a while and eventually forced the issue in order to earn the evening. So far this morning, I am heading in the same direction and beginning to believe that last week’s incident was a real line in life, one which has been moved behind me and disallows going backward to feel better about everything. I am moving along this year just as I expected... Saying the same things over and over in different ways, trying to understand why the world has to be as it is, and realizing that no matter what I write (or do) or how bad I feel, I will never find the ears. They probably don’t even exist. Well, the ears have been there for me in the past and I’ve already gone over that shit in spades. When I say ‘don’t exist’, what I mean is they can no longer be there for yours truly. I just have to fucking lump it. Every Goddamn day. I feel this every Goddamn day without fail. I become driven to understand why the torment is so powerful and then come up with an empty sack. I see imagery in my head – some from fictional entertainment, a bit due to beauty that’s been close to home, and others from my real past – and sit here trying to put the feelings of loss into words. My tools are important to me, as are the camera and my computers. Some keepsakes from the past, too. And the knives? Sort of. Two wristwatches. What else? Nothing tangible. The most important (read: dire) aspects of life have been torn away and are now so distant that I can barely imagine where I’ve been, let alone where I need to be. Curious... Years ago some of my possessions were necessary for my very survival. Now? I’ve tossed half of them to the winds due to learning just a tiny smidgen of what I need to be satisfied and comfortable in life. I did not say ‘happy’ for good reason because that word is on a level I do not understand. The point is, the memories hit me in the head every fucking day and cause massive, chronic damage no matter the effort I put forth to get through the hours on my feet. Do I sound like I’m complaining? YOU make the call. I don’t understand any of this and probably never will. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. As I keep stating... The little enjoyments are all I have left in the world. When they fail to achieve, I will go away. At least I will no longer feel such pain. I’ll be driving to the City again this morning. Just a quick trip up and back for business, and then the remainder of the day will be all mine. The drive will be much like yesterday, meaning I’ll be scanning the areas for anything striking. Yesterday there was one very tall woman on a corner looking like a million bucks, but such a sight is very rare. Most of the time there are just average, everyday people out and about. Seeing something special only hurts more, but I can’t fucking help it. I am too far gone now. The hour is late, for sure. Upon returning, I suppose I’ll do my usual Sunday stuff and maybe work in the garage again. All the while, my heart will be breaking and my head hurting from all that has been either lost or torn away. Soon I’ll have to ask anyone reading this drivel to tell me why I am doing anything at all. Right now the only plus I see to the day will be the comfort in arriving home after the drive. That always feels good because I don’t like being out there near other people. There was a quick shot of Nora in which her beautiful thigh-gap was visible (from a bit of a distance, but still not bad). When I saw it, something inside me clicked and my head swung a one-eighty from productive thought and typing to rampant desire to be all over her midsection until I run out of breath in this life. How does that happen? Tell me, please. Maybe the losses are racking more quickly than I can deal with each one individually, or perhaps I just long for too much of the past. The world is different. I am very different. None of that shit can take place anymore. The last three sentences could be the reasons there is so much pain inside when I look at Nora’s legs. I am still trying to understand myself. A good portion of why this process does not seem to ever get anywhere is that I have to keep a few key details out of the fucking content, and results in a ton of information I must avoid sharing. The process is very restrictive and exhausting. These painful feelings happen quite often and Nora is simply the latest example of the fall. The images come and go. Oh, Chelsea. Please let me... Help me. 1110. Part of my Sunday business is finished, including going through the refrigerator. I have one hell of a head start on the housework. My chores are so far along, in fact, that the morning cocktail is already gone. Now I have hours to myself for whatever seems best or most pressing. And Holly just reinforced my disdain for a personality trait that is so off-putting that I can’t find the fucking words. Anyway, earlier I was convinced that any suggestion of passing the time without falling off a cliff was impossible, whereas the time ahead appears slightly improved over my early mindset. Don’t get me wrong; the issues remain inside my head no matter what kind of advantage I might feel after accomplishing so much. I am angry again, just like Dave stated all those years ago. Angry. There was no drive to the City this morning because the time system has been all fucked up for the last few days. This is better, actually, because having so much finished prior to having free time is good for my head (sometimes). I need help so badly right now that my thoughts are bordering upon recklessness in the worst way. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Believe me... You don’t wanna know.’ Monday morning has arrived. The importance of the peace and quiet inherent in this house during the weekdays cannot be overstated right now. Nora is wearing jeans, and not that shit you may see out there these days, either. I am talking about the proper cut and fit. God she is gorgeous. Anyway, the house will be just what I need today. 1105. The au pair waving to me a little while ago brought all of the shit back to my brain after I worked around the house and felt a little better. Shit. Whatever. There will always be something. At least it wasn’t Nora this time. Reality may not hold up to fiction, but that girl stirs me every fucking time. Her gait is adorable, along with flowing hair and a big smile when she waves. This will not change, either. My garage is perpetually in ‘do not approach’ mode, especially concerning such forms. I have to remain at a distance or my brain will not function properly.
My routine is finished and I’ll be doing some laundry in and around whatever else happens today. The printer (after twelve fucking years) is actually worthless, but I was able to order a new one for very little money which will be arriving tomorrow. I need the ability to copy and print, nothing more. When I first purchased the previous printer, I was routinely creating large-format prints of some of my digital images. I don’t need to do that anymore, so less features and a smaller carriage are fine. I’m sure the new printer will serve me for several years. The cost was less than a quarter of the previous model. And since it is cocktail hour, I decided to relax in the office for a while and express myself here. Tuesday is here, for whatever it may be worth. I’ve been reading, watching video media and listening to a ‘mature’ driver course intended to lower the cost of my car insurance renewal (boring as hell, but what the fuck) since yesterday, hence the limited writing. The time is 1116 today and I finished the routine early in order to read through a few chapters so I can finish the entire course prior to renewing my policy. A moment ago, I decided to play some mellow music in the background whenever I’m reading and don’t need to hear the audio attached to some of the video lessons. Well, the music choice brought my mind all the way back to the glowing years. It is so poignant and important to me, in fact, that I ceased the lesson and decided to reflect upon who I am and how I arrived in this depressing locale. What I find absolutely amazing is just how quickly these compositions can send me back in time and derail whatever else seemed pressing. Oh, and the track that just began is the very first my mom and I noticed while waiting for my dad in the Goodguys store in Dublin roughly thirty-five years ago when the world was still full of wonder and possibility. My brain is currently computing methods for demonstrating the vast power of my mood while near other people so they can attempt to digest the damage which has created the person they see. I am going to leave the driver bullshit alone for a while and focus upon the pitfalls and lost promise of the place in which I now reside. This is permanent, to be sure. For reasons of good form, I will say that the music in the background is a compilation created from works dating prior to nineteen ninety. The intermissions have been necessary because I can’t think straight most of the time and must go on with daily drivel rather than being creative in any way. I can honestly say that at this very moment my head is in the worst place it has ever inhabited in more than fifty-six years. Maybe I have lived a long life, and maybe not. I suppose the reference standard for such an observation is different for each individual. Along such lines, my current quandary is to decide whether or not a second glass of whiskey is a good idea. The short answer is no, yet inside me is a powerful desire to go straight off the deep end and cease this shit for all time. And yes, the fucking music has a hand in my current mindset. Nothing can ever be as beautiful as the period just after my mom and me hearing the first song over an audio system sitting on an endcap in the electronics store so many years ago. Nothing. Believe it, motherfucks. What I am hearing right now is more powerful than anything before or since. I am abusing the speakers and my hearing at the same time, yet neither seems to matter. I think my new printer was just dropped on the porch. The delivery driver did not seem to understand where the music was emanating. Heh. At least I’m not in the garage right now. That always puts off those who are unfamiliar with me. One more time? Heh. I don’t fucking care anymore. I am sitting mere feet from where the driver placed the package, yet the Low-E coating on surface three of these windows tends to disallow viewing what may be taking place on the opposite side. Look it up. Three wishes right now: One, to go back and feel the wonder again. Two, to find a way to traverse this pain and come out the other side in an improved condition. Three? You don’t want to know. One is impossible. Two is unlikely after two decades of effort. As for three, well... I guess the situation has not yet become so dire. Would you like a finer point placed on the third option? I will kill myself if there is no true wonder or hope apparent in the near future. I prefer others to remain unable to understand the way I feel. I need something that is all my own. I also need to know that their questions cannot be answered, nor do I wish to be stereotyped. Most days, I find myself seeking ways of causing further confusion. The next track is going to bring tears to my eyes. Let us become drunk. The driving-related lessons are on hold until tomorrow. Vodka. Yay. I still need to treat a stain on one jacket and then run a load of dry cleaning. I’ll get to it soon, perhaps the next time I head to the garage for a break. Wednesday. Yesterday revealed to me that there is a problem I need to alleviate, and the effort has to begin immediately. What does this mean? One of my little enjoyments must be truncated. I am not happy about it, although there are a few upsides, none of which I am willing to discuss here. The bottom line is that the next few weeks are going to be very difficult. Anyway, in roughly an hour I have to make the drive into the City like last weekend. I am not looking forward to the potential for traffic so late in the morning (about 0800), but at least I can be comfortable in the car. Better than nothing. Upon returning, I’ll have to think about altering myself a bit and get the new process of truncation started. I’ll probably end up in a shitty mood. My head went through quite a bit of crap yesterday morning, so I decided to finish off the motorcycle work and straighten the area somewhat. Did the work help? Eh... I don’t know. I seemed to hit a wall during the mid-morning and barely recovered by the end of business hours. The music rather catalyzed my feelings, too, meaning I’ll have to avoid certain compositions for a while as I transition into this new daily way of thinking. The other feelings are still there because there is nothing I can do about them. 1142. The drive was uneventful. We stopped at both markets on the way back, too, although my new diet means all of the fun stuff had to be passed. Curious, all of the typical yummy foods which have risen in cost over the last few years were on sale, yet due to the change in my eating habits, I picked up exactly none of them. Arliss Howard is awesome. Unfortunately, his character is quite the asshole. Heh. Whatever. He can probably eat whatever he wants. At some point I will have to return to the driving lessons (ha!) and continue my efforts in lowering the car insurance bill. I have enough time to complete the entire course prior to renewing, too. This is a very good thing. I suppose age has its advantages. Better than nothing. Willa is on the screen with her unbelievably well-sculpted thighs. Ugh. Shut up. I also set up the new printer and it is ready to go. The unit is much smaller than my older ‘wide carriage’ printer, too. That means it fits here on the table with the rest of the computer. Very nice. I can reconfigure the drafting table soon. Nicole’s lips are a universe all their own. Just a thought. I’d love to be given an opportunity right now. Isn’t all this exciting? Nope. Thursday morning is here and I can already feel a problem brewing at only 0656. 0824. I missed something a few minutes ago, and the feeling of loss was more acute due to a pair of news anchors on the television this morning. I had been preparing everything and trying to straighten as I worked and had the news in the background. Well, as I predicted earlier, a problem arose out of nowhere and left me with a diminished ability to think clearly. I very nearly used the word ‘unfair’, but most of the time I know better. I am just not in a position in life to be where I must in order to survive. This is a rather heart-wrenching situation sometimes, the present morning being no different. I can’t just move around the house and let everything go because the feelings are dire, nor can I seem to work through and actually feel good during the average day. There has to be some sort of middle ground which allows me to carry out whatever work needs to be accomplished while avoiding a breakdown. As of yet, I have only found one or the other to be the case, most of the time being able to do at least the minimum even when a bad situation develops. I don’t like to be angry, but the more I think about the current situation, the more I realize the causes cannot be mitigated. Hence my repeated statements regarding understanding ears. I know they may help, but at the same time there is so much fear that I worry the outcome could be worse than the initial problem,much like the treatment actually being worse than the disease. When I realized there was a missed opportunity, my head formulated two outcomes: One, I see something and then become distraught, or two, I miss it and have a difficult time dealing with the loss. Isn’t that peachy? I finished two chapters of the driving course this morning. There is one more but I need to take a break and polish off the coffee before going further. I keep thinking about the doors of life, as well. The driving course is very straightforward (if boring) and will be out of the way later this morning, whereas the doors keep popping up in my mind and derailing whatever I may be trying to consider. I am lost and cannot see any possibilities on the horizon that might help me. The right pair of ears likely exists out there but I will never find them. What I need is very specific, meaning a rarity. The need is growing, as well. I am on a road with no turns. 1100 straight up. I finished the online driving course and will be sending my certificate to the insurance company by next Monday. Very nice. As I already said somewhere up the page, the material is rather boring, but since I try to be a person with integrity, nothing was skipped and I read every single word of the material as well as watched every video from beginning to end. I will not be full of shit when it comes to an insurance discount. I don’t have the type of personality for deceiving anyone in order to take a fucking shortcut. That’s just not me. So... The course is finished and I can reap the benefits when all is said and done. Moreover, I found myself partially preoccupied with the central issue in life during the entire course, even going so far as to pause at key points when something physically attractive was displayed within the content. I am a basket case, and such a statement is far worse than anyone else can possibly realize. Just believe me... The processes inside my head right now are not to be shared with anyone. They are very bad and I am not proud of such a fact. One of the key issues with which I’ve been forced to deal during the last few years is that my current mindset has been created by other people. Yes, I said ‘other people’. Believe it. I am not in the custom of lying about anything, least of all the way I feel each and every fucking day. My emotional condition is at an all-time low. If and when this state of mind can no longer be dealt with through any means, I will be fucking dead. Read that sentence again. Just... BELIEVE. The only plus to my new diet is there will be no reduction in the consumption of alcohol. And yes, I realize the liquid enjoyment is a depressant, so shut your fucking mouth right now. Another intermission may follow this one. The muse is gone for the time being and I have no idea of how to get it back. My head is completely sideways. I made it through Thursday. Last night I tried to go with the flow a bit, too. Fortunately, I didn’t lose my shit and the evening was very short. I feel much different being out there these days than I did a year ago or more. Perhaps the idea of lighting up the empire and being sociable is worn the hell out after all this time. Whatever the case, I’m content to remain inside the house during most evenings. More now than ever, to be honest. I need to be as isolated as possible most of the time in order to offset the discomfort inherent in holding up a wall in front of people. I may not like the idea, but it is very necessary for my survival. And in case anyone begins to believe that I am improving at all, I missed something this morning and feel as if my life is a tad shorter than prior to the loss. I could have... Never mind. My needs don’t fucking matter, anyway. Jesus Harold Christ in a data packet... For whatever reason, any communication with Apple cloud information has been painfully slow for the last few days. I don’t understand, and as is the custom of late, any searches for answers yield others asking the same questions with no helpful solutions. I can’t stand it when something suddenly begins to misbehave for no apparent reason. They always tell people the same shit, too... Reboot this, reboot that, change the cabling, update the software... You know. Nothing ever changes because the companies always assume that users are causing all of the problems. The truth is some of us know precisely what we are doing. Many people, actually. Eh... Whatever. I’ll try to work around the problem. 0920. I am still sipping coffee and streaming my program over on the right-hand display. The cloud does not want to sync properly for whatever reason, so I’ve gone to the RAID in order to organize the information there prior to moving some things around. Willa’s eyes are incredibly dark. Wow. 1254. What have I been doing? I don’t know. The daily routine is out of the way and I had lunch. I listed another auction, too. The big knife is up for grabs. I believe that one represents the last of the redundancy. As bad as yesterday now appears, today should prove to be better because I don’t have that wallowing feeling inside, nor am I completely out of gas in the middle of the day. I think as long as something is accomplished – regardless of how large or small – the outlook brightens. That’s how I feel right now, anyway. I am again waiting for the evening. Hopefully, it will feel deserved. Today may also be the day my neighbor will need help installing a new starter in his old car. I’m happy to assist with tools or whatever. If the project doesn’t happen, well, that’s fine. As of this very moment, I don’t know what to do with the rest of the time today. The morning was fucked up and I haven’t fully recovered. At least the auction is live so I can watch it develop for a week. Oh, I did send my driving course certificate to the insurance company so the discount can be applied. That’s something. Bailey’s thighs again.... I may have to switch the media to something else because there are delicate parts of her which will weave their way into me and ruin my day. I will say the best part of this scene is Chris Bauer’s acting prowess, though, not Bailey. And right on the heels of that crap is Nicole again with her unbelievably slender yet shapely features. Damn. That’s all I’m going to say right now. I honestly don’t feel very good about myself today. I have to improve the state of my mind. 1528. I helped with the starter motor project and everything went to shit in roughly an hour. It seems that after installation, removal and some testing on the bench, the new starter is defective. I even double-checked the part number to no avail. We’re going to have to wait for another to be shipped and then try again. Ugh. At least my tools never fail. Now I have some of the afternoon left to relax prior to making revolutions for dinner. Oh, and during the automotive work, I saw those damned legs again. No, the other ones. It seems every fucking time I see her, she eventually ends up either facing directly toward me or the opposite, effectively melting my brain due to some of the most stirring lines to cross my vision in years. She lives in the neighborhood. Splendid. Anyway, the next couple of hours should be peaceful. I'm tired of living this way."
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
legal
about
archive
home
