Intermission, Last Mature content No. 392 Published August 24th, 2023 9:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Saturday morning is here. I have my coffee and several hours to myself. I’ll take care of the usual business in a little while and then perhaps run some laundry. Yesterday only worked about half as well as I would have preferred, so maybe I can make today a bit better. Right now, though, I have to relax and think. I see my neighbor is already outside replacing the fucking starter motor for the second time but I am in no mood to help as of yet. He’s plenty capable, though, and considering the staggering number of occasions in which I’ve helped with everything, I believe a break is justified. My plan is to finish my coffee and then work on the routine, after which I will probably return to the office and straighten all of the items which seem to gather on the tables. The new printer is parked on this table, meaning I can reconfigure the drafting table to be better organized. I was able to reset the HT receiver yesterday and get everything working properly again, too. Very nice. I even went further and figured out why the DD was not present while streaming certain media. I fixed everything, so once again my shows can follow me around during my housework. And now... It was special to her. Very special. My heart swelled just knowing that she understood and felt in a way now unique in life. She knew and went forward no matter the words that came out of my mouth. She just... Knew. We spoke about the idea, as well, and once there was a glance from her beautiful eyes, I knew I had found someone very special and very rare. Now she is gone forever. Well, she’s been gone for a long fucking time, to be honest. So many years that sometimes I lose count. Much of the present difficulty is in knowing I never had to worry back then and I see and feel the fucking gradient every day. I am feeling it right now, in fact. The only problems which arose when we were together came from my past and had little to do with her loving nature. I think about her every day no matter what else may be going on, and eventually fall down because none of it can be repeated or replaced. None. I just have to sit here and fucking lump it. It’s time for housework and my friends in the background. I have to stop thinking about her. Actually, I’d like to stop thinking about everything. Such loss. 1030, straight down. Heh. Not funny. Why? Because nothing is really funny anymore. The daily routine is out of the way and I have some laundry running. So far, so good. Oh, and there is a fat glass of whiskey sitting to my left, naturally. More of the depressant for the depression. Laugh it up, motherfucks. Sunday morning with coffee. My mom used to have an album of songs entitled ‘Sunday Morning Coffee’, and that was right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow. Her music interest changed after we discovered the song on that fateful day at the electronics store. What a wonderful time. Anyway, I’ll be taking the drive to the city again this morning. There and back in a little over an hour, after which I can work on my usual stuff around the house. Yesterday I trimmed more of the tree in the front yard which leaves me freed up today for other garbage concerns. I have lots of thinking to do, as well. Always thinking. 1144. Part of my housework is finished and I have the next few hours to myself. Earlier this morning I changed the main font for the entire site from Conduit to Helvetica for reasons of good form. Also, I became irritated by the inconsistent vertical spacing of the previous choice. Now everything is cleaner and easier to read, the latter being the main fucking point of this entire endeavor. The likelihood of the font being changed again is nil. Sarah is so deluded that she seems to think everything will be alright if she maintains her wavering faith. She is such a goof, but still a prime example of adorable chiclets. I digress. Loss is the word of every day. Loss. Everything is gone. Monday. Coffee. Vampires. Yesterday was fine for a while and then it wasn’t. ‘Things are only impossible until they’re not.’ Well, I can’t agree with that one, Captain. The current situation is unalterable from my position in life. All I can do is try to enjoy what I can (while it is still available). Some of the time I spent in the garage yesterday was productive, as was a bit of the indoor stuff. Just beneath the surface of everything, however, is a mass of bad feelings, memories and the realization that the good is gone for all time. I go back and forth with that one, to be honest, because there are times when I feel alright enough to actually look ahead in life. Those confusing moments are few, though. No matter what mood I am in at a given time, right behind it is the knowledge that I cannot go anywhere. I dream each day about being elsewhere and how that may feel. None of this is helping me. There are chiclets on the screen right now. So cute. I may not have today to myself due to unforeseen circumstances. My time will progress nearly the same either way because I typically do what I need regardless of the lay of the land while home. I was thinking about the watch earlier this morning and recalled some years ago when I reached out to the manufacturer for a bit of information and hopefully photos. Well, I never received so much as an acknowledgement of my message. Nothing. Those snobby fuckswouldn’t even respond to tell me that they don’t have the time to deal with such requests. I would have understood completely, too. The truth is I didn’t expect anything beyond a short response telling me that nothing was available. Anyway, I know the club they are in and there is nothing I can do about it. The only way for me to get a response from them would be to actually seek and purchase one of the thirty watches they made and then try contacting them again. Nine-plus hundred thousand dollars? Really? I would. Many years ago I was in love with a particular model of car but nowhere near being able to afford one. All I did was look at them. Well, one sunny day my girl, myself and another friend paid a visit to the dealership in hopes of seeing the car up close. I was just off work and fairly unkempt, meaning the luxury car dealer might not be inclined to believe I had the means to make a purchase. A salesman approached me and I basically laid out the facts of the case: I wanted to see one of the cars in person. He asked if I was interested in making a deal, to which I replied, ‘Do I look like I can afford anything in this place?’ He laughed, stated that my honesty caught him completely off-guard, and then proceeded to lead the three of us into the receiving area of the dealership where two such models sat which had been unloaded just that morning. He told me not to touch, but I could stare to my heart’s content. Now THAT is some customer service. The watch people? I just don’t know, although the courtesy of a simple one-line reply could not have taken very much time out of anyone’s day. Just a thought. Oh, and on our way out of the building that day I told the car salesmen that if my circumstances were to change, I would not buy a car from anyone else. Why did I go into all that crap? Ugh. 1108. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a glass of whiskey for reasons of good form. Irish whiskey this time, too, because I’m out of the usual brand. Whatever. The increased alcohol content will probably yield a pasty mood, although I did toss in an extra ice cube. Too bad this stuff is more expensive because it is much smoother. Anyway, I was able to continue the saga of the doors this morning. My muse has returned – slightly – and for whatever reason. I really don’t know, but I will say that the subject matter is quite compelling at times. I noticed that my knife auction has topped three hundred after only a few days. This is very good for the financial situation. I’ll probably be at this machine for a while today because I need to keep the house nice and quiet. I don’t even have the video media running right now. That’s different. Most of the time I have a deep emotional need to have my friends in the background no matter what a given day may entail. Eh... Soon, perhaps. For the time being I am going to enjoy the atmosphere in the office. Maybe in a little while I’ll be tipsy enough to heat a pizza. Heh. Not funny. I never had any desire to see Bailey’s bare breasts, yet there they were in high definition on the fucking display. Thanks, assholes. She is far too precious to be unclothed on screen. I’d rather see her standing with feet together in a pair of low-rise, ‘skinny’ jeans just like someone else in recent memory. Bailey is a person and an actor, and as such can do whatever she pleases or desires. I don’t want to see her skin, though. Call me crazy, but even after five-plus seasons of this series and a plethora of nude people, I need to see her without clothing like I need another fucking hole in my head. I’ve never wanted to see Willa nude, either. Nope. Not a bit. The mystery and wonder of such form are too beautiful to be ruined by society. Thankfully, the most stunning female actors within this program never agreed to do nude scenes. I’m glad. Yes, I realize I’ve included imagery that goes far beyond what you may see during the entirety of the vampire series, but they are of models who agreed – via contract – to pose as they have. And despite my rampant desire to slather any number of gorgeous women (to whom I allude quite often), some are in my heart and will remain as such for all time. There is nothing wrong with physical desire, either. It’s natural. That is not an excuse, but the prime reason for much of what I write as it relates to the more beautiful sex. Ugh... That’s just too fucking much shit. Forgive me. I am a broken person with zero outlook, hope or ambition. Sometimes the pain gets to me in a way I can only express through references to beauty because it is directly related to the difficulty I experience every single day, and for many years. There were those situations in which I actually found what I sought, yet none of them lived terribly long. Now I don’t see anything of the like taking place in the future because I am far too broken. I appreciate much, yet experience none of it. I see and then I fall down. I do not EVER recover. The positive is that none of the actors or models – the real people – I’ve mentioned can know me in the slightest. Big positive. 1234. The time reminds me of the amazing time and date which occurred during the glow... 12:34:56 on 7/8/90. Do you remember the sequence? One second that stood out for all time, and it came to pass during the most beautiful period in memory. Well, the sequence occurred twice that day due to AM versus PM. I need more accurate information as to my work history during the glow. I need to know the dates of when I held those jobs. Don’t ask why, either. I just need to know. Call the effort ‘painting a picture’, if you must. That was quite literally the brightest time of my life. Believe it. And now here I sit on Tuesday after a fairly decent evening. This morning? Indecent is the word. I can already feel the day crumbling above my head as if it is bent upon my destruction with a shower of particles that can slice my brain to pieces. 1145. I just went through an hour of issues after trying to print one ten-page document that needs to be included with the knife after it sells. Unbelievable. There are self-driving cars all over San Francisco – many which I have seen up close and in person – that have very few issues, yet in this day and age I can’t use a new printer for one fucking document without jumping through hoops. I even threatened to toss the fucking thing into the ocean (which is a half mile down the street). I may never understand why an inkjet printer’s functioning goes all to hell when it is new and hooked up properly. I just don’t get it. Anyway, all my stuff is finished for the morning and I have hours ahead for whatever seems best. My neighbor stopped by a while ago for a morning cocktail but had to leave mid-conversation due to a business call. That’s fine. Putting up the wall and ‘making nice’ with people is very difficult sometimes and whenever the process comes to an end I am much more comfortable. I will say that the printer problems effectively derailed a situation which has been growing in importance for the last year or more, and the issue this morning was one of the worst in memory. The Goddamned current period is now worse than mere hours ago. I have no recourse whatsoever. One positive is that the water is on and I blew the air from the system. Everything is back to normal. I miss Ashley so much right now that I could die in the backyard without blinking an eye. Her mindset has been unequaled in this life. Maybe that whole year was nothing more than a dream. Well, such thoughts don’t matter because apparently my feelings follow suit. One of two possibilities will come to pass very soon. Either I will lash out without an actual ending, or shut down enough to cause those who know me to become concerned. I really don’t care which. Wednesday is here on the heels of a very strange evening and night. As for the daytime hours yesterday, something took place which initially caused tons of anger and then changed to rampant sadness and a huge lack of understanding. There is one factor – I cannot and will not go into detail – of which I am aware and have been for some years, but the truth of the matter is I’ve been affected too much to simply relax about the fucking problem and accept the way I am. Nope. That is just not going to happen because I already know of far too many causes. Anyway... This day will be what I make of it (as they all should), meaning I’ll have to take care of the usual housework and take a trip to the wine store to pick up an order. We need those staples for comfort. The early business is out of the way and I have some time to continue going through older images while I sip this mediocre coffee. Heh. I have thousands of images dating back to my first smartphone and some of them are completely unnecessary anymore. God damn does Jessica have some beautiful eyes. Doesn’t matter. Pause. 1120. I am back from the big wine store and the daily routine is finished. Bailey’s chiclets are again very apparent. Ugh. Whatever. As I mentioned earlier, I have hours to myself which will probably entail some detailed thinking and organization both in the office and on this machine. I need to French kiss that girl’s labia so badly that sometimes I can’t function. Shut up. I don’t need to be judged because this is what I’ve become as a result of time and circumstance. What was I saying? Ah... Today. After the strange dreams early this morning coupled with the shit situation from yesterday, my intention is to attempt to understand why my brain has been operating in such a fashion. The fucked up aspect from yesterday has been exacerbated by the past and is beginning to lead the little enjoyments right off a fucking cliff. This is not good. Holy God... Her fucking legs again. Shit. Stop it, idiot. I have to find a way to harness a bit of strength and move along through the day without completely losing my shit for the last time. If that happens, some possible good of the future could be lost and I don’t want to lose any more of my life. There is little hope, honestly, yet the sliver which has remained must be enough to keep my head above water. The last several weeks have shown me that ambition is a much taller order than in years passed, and finding the will to actually rise and deal with even the smallest issue has become nearly impossible. Maybe after a snack I’ll head to the garage, blast some quality music, and proceed to do more tree trimming. Improvement of the tree always helps my mental state for some reason. Right now, I just don’t know. A human being does not become so desperate to experience specific, elusive aspects of life without being disregarded for a very long time. As I’ve said before, this type of desperation is very dangerous and can lead to more disastrous consequences than the world’s past preludes to war. If you don’t believe me, a demonstration can be arranged. No one wants that. Just trust my words. This is a very bad time. The minuscule upside right now is the fact that I have replenished the liquor supply, nothing more. Thus far, I’ve been intelligent enough to know when the line is close, meaning I can control my intake in order to maintain a general quality of life here in this little house. Make no mistake, however... The bad things are ever-looming. The time is now 1525 and I believe my efforts on this day are finished. I probably won’t even make a salad to go with the leftovers for tonight. I just can’t get myself to care because trimming the tree earlier really knocked me on my ass. That type of work takes it out of me more than anything else. The more I trim the lower growth, the higher everything else remains, so I end up in the tree with a pole saw and cutting manually over my head by ten feet or more. I don’t think there is much more I can do without employing professionals. Unfortunately, their work is just too expensive. My intention is to eliminate as much interior growth as possible to ease the stress on the larger branches during high winds and storms. The tree is going to be seventy years old next summer and can use some help. Well, I guess I won’t try to work on it any further until the weekend. Maybe tomorrow if I feel ok. Today is already better than yesterday and the time is only 0818. The trip to the big wine store really weighed on my head a day ago – which is a clear indication that I am further out of balance than I had already thought – and upon returning felt much less stress. Today I don’t need to go anywhere unless I decide to be proactive and head to the market later this morning. Or not. Fuck it. I’m going to remain home all day. 1048 is the time, and the morning has been completely disastrous. I was doing fine for a while, but just before I decided to take care of the daily routine, feelings struck me which quickly took over my entire consciousness and left me flailing in the wind. Now I am more lost than I was earlier, hence remaining in the house all day. On the upside, the knife auction has surpassed the original purchase price and will serve to help with the finances even more than I had hoped. I’ll be listing another auction in a little while, that of a mechanical wristwatch that has lost its importance over the last few years. Going further, I’ll have to do some research on what else may be valuable enough to put on the chopping block, as it were. After yesterday’s exhaustion from tree trimming and other chores, the plan for today was relaxation combined with a bit of organization. So far, I’ve only accomplished the minimum. Until I decide otherwise, the status quo shall be sitting at the control center to ponder everything. We had a bit of a meeting last night in the garage, during which I tried to explain a few aspects of mobile audio electronics. Well, that went halfway south because the parameters involved can be difficult to grasp for some. In the end, however, I believe the greater good was served by way of at least a slight increase in understanding. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I’ve been fluent in such a vein for decades, so all of it is literally second nature after all these years. Even when someone else doesn’t understand the complexity as I am attempting to explain, the effort is typically for naught because to me, the simple terms are not simple to some. A vat of wondrous beauty went gliding by earlier. Damn. 1516 is the time. I finished everything I set out to do today. The remaining hours are not going to find me very productive at all. I’m currently sitting in the new office with literally nothing to say. I don’t even know why I came here in the first place except to finish the dry cleaning and stare at the tree for a few minutes for a game plan. The radio is playing quietly in the background and the fog recently flowed across the flatland and is cooling the otherwise warm temperature. One might think I’m fairly comfortable out here, but nothing inside is working very well this afternoon. My head blew wide open earlier and there is just no fixing it. Well, maybe the passage of time can help, but I always know at some point the same shit will happen. I’m fucking sick of it. I really should not be seeking images of Cindy for the site. Seeing her face causes all sorts of problems. There might be a few lines in there, too, but I can’t go into such a topic right now. I am already all fucked up due to yesterday’s fall from on high. Still reeling, honestly. I can’t fucking do anything about this shit and the frustration is driving me to think in very reckless terms. This is not good. When I see those images of Cindy’s extraordinary lines – most notably when combined with her very unique face – my mind returns to the days of yore when I was right where I needed to be, albeit those situations were nothing more than temporary illusions. I knew it and dove anyway. My thinking during those short periods was such that I accepted the pitfalls and felt they were offset by sheer bliss. Everything would come to a crashing halt and I didn’t fucking care. A part of me was continually aware that I had to embrace whatever I needed because reality just couldn’t cut the mustard at all. I feel the same way right now, yet without any decent resources, I am stuck right here in this damned chair. All I have are words. The images may be hurting me, but I need to see them as much as I need to draw breath. Cindy shall remain, along with a few others. I don’t know what the fuck else to do anymore. 0913. I’ll have to do my housework soon and get away from this shit. The gardeners are here so I had to close the garage doors. I will get into the work once they are gone. The clock has advanced to 1102 and all is not well. The daily routine is finished and I have laundry in the washer, meaning one might believe that my day is going well. Nope... Quite the reverse, and that despite the fact that I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey here on the table. If I state that I ‘need’ it, is that a bad thing? Probably. The truth is that the routine of a cocktail and my typical housework has become a cemented lifestyle. There is nothing I can do about it in the short term. I need the comfort inherent in a very controlled atmosphere, and that includes the alcohol. The drink is a small positive floating with the tide of a sea of negatives. I have no intention of altering the way I live through the days. The yoga scene from S7.E3 drives me up the fucking wall every Goddamned time. I can’t help it after years of being so desperate for the most elusive and beautiful aspects of this life. Shut up. I have to see beauty even though it is not real. Why? Because reality is a scourge anymore. Just... Shut up. I need it. As for the rest of the day, I’ll finish off the laundry and try to consider options other than just sitting on my ass. I am doing my best to avoid this day from becoming like the last. The process is not easy by any means. And there is a different French girl on the screen right now. Not the one from the gangster series, but another. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Never mind. I am not meant to be happy. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, the woman is five-nine. I didn’t know until this moment that she was so tall. Fuel on the fire, and if you thought the height fetish faded, make no fucking mistake. She kind of looks like a combination of the great Sophia Loren and Penelope Cruz. Wow. I would have a hell of a time trying to decide between her lips and labia. Shut up. I am a basket case after all this time, and considering the first occasion of me broaching such a topic took place exactly six years ago, you should be happy that my words are not more pointed. And? When this series was being filmed, low-rise jeans were still the norm. I wish the standard had not changed because a super-high waistline is fucking hideous and hides one of the best features of a woman’s body. The world is so fucking stupid. The idea that I do not understand the ways of the world is not very surprising, though, because my head has become more and more skewed over the years as a result of all of the damage, routing, and squishing I’ve endured. If you don’t believe me, you should be reading some other site. I am not in the custom of exaggerating anything, assholes. This is what I have become. Period. Chiclets again. The fucking story of the doors will continue. I swear it will. Leave me the hell alone. Thank Christ I ordered more booze the other day and restocked the bar. I need it. Perhaps the desire to numb my senses at an early hour would not have come to fruition had I never known of the beautiful Ashley. Her mindset changed everything. So sad. Like all the others, she is gone forever. Give me one wish, please. The finale of the third show kills me every time it rolls around in the rotation. Tears. I love those people more than I could ever put into words. Just... Believe me, please. I love them and will until the end of me. Later? On to the fourth show. The rotation is three, four, two, five, and then one. Figure it out. 1611. The tree again. I trimmed a few annoying limbs a while ago, just enough to top off the organics cart after the gardeners tossed the green waste into it this morning. I can’t go further because everything is very high – some of the upper, inner growth may be reachable from the ladder – and I don’t want a bunch of trimmings laying in the yard. I’ll try to continue next week. Moreover, the weather is still very warm, so anything physical takes more of a toll than during the cool days. Ugh. Once again, I am in the garage thanks to a nice breeze coming from the back door. The only thing I can do prior to dinner is spin my figurative wheels. My energy has been depleted. I don’t even know how long I can sit here at the bench because it’s nowhere near as comfortable as the office. Oh, well. I’ll do what I can. Disillusionment is ok in small doses. Larger quantities? Every fucking day? Not good. I’ve been seeing different people walking dogs, strolling in the sunshine, and riding bicycles since I ventured outside to work on the tree. A couple of them were rather interesting and forced me to consider that sitting out here on sunny days may not be the best idea for my weakened condition. Regardless, I glanced. I always make an effort to see if something rare is walking past my door. This is what I’ve become. Shoot me in the face. I don’t care. I need to fucking see. Oh, fuck... I just saw something wondrous and stirring. Damn. This shit just will not let up, ever. Splendid. Well, I would have seen that last beauty regardless of being in the garage or office. She was just too fucking close. As I said, I need to see. I am going to try to avoid going into an angry tirade regarding the last time I received a blast of shit from someone because I am constantly searching. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. Have I mentioned that lately? Ugh. I don’t feel well. The most likely combination is alcohol and depression with a touch of ‘out of shape’ thrown in for good measure. The evening should prove rewarding, including dinner preparations. At least I’ll have my friends in the background while working in the kitchen. They never cause problems, nor would they judge me for what I’ve become. I love them. I’ll have the requisite cooking cocktail and the television on. That’s one of my favorite parts of the day, believe it or not. I used to say that the morning kitchen work and dinner preparations were the two most rewarding parts of a typical day. The fact has not changed. Something pretty fucking unreal would have to transpire in order for my feelings toward life to change. Feeling the way I do this afternoon is most likely tied to all that has been lost, as well. The evening was ok after all of that concerning thought yesterday. I made it to another Saturday morning. Coffee and vampires. In about half an hour I’ll be taking the typical morning drive into the City for a quick stop, and then back to town for some shopping at the big market. The drive is typically without issues, but I will be overjoyed to return home later this morning. Pause. 1050. Everything is finished, including a trip to the market on the way home a little while ago. Unfortunately, the drive entailed a bit of a scrape a la a brush fire on the side of the highway. There was a slight delay, after which the flow of traffic improved markedly. The drive home was much quicker. Now that most everything is out of the way for the morning, I have time to relax on the sofa with this machine and enjoy a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. The weather is very warm and humid again. Hopefully, the onshore flow will take over during the afternoon and cool the house like yesterday. If not, I’ll probably be spending the afternoon and early evening in the garage. As long as the current breeze holds up, the temperature inside the house should be fine. Also, I have the flags out to honor the birthday of Norway’s crown princess. Displaying the Norwegian flag during certain holidays has become important to me because of the ‘forest’ mindset, which continues to elude me. Whatever. The American flag is always on its own right due to the federal flag code. She is beautiful, by the way. Yeah... Like you didn’t think I was aware. Shut up. Anyway, the rest of the day is under my full control and may entail a variety of tasks, or not much at all. For the time being, I have to stay off my feet after such a busy morning. I’ll sit with this endeavor until something else comes to mind. Thankfully, there was nothing of note during the drive through the City. Sometimes I fear what may be visible from the car. Yes, I said fear. The time is now 1401 and I am worn the hell out. I made a marinade for tomorrow’s roast for grilling, made another marinade for some chicken satay this evening, and went so far as to mix and simmer the sauce for tonight. It’s cooling on the stove. Once all that crap was finished, I proceeded to clean the kitchen for a second time so everything is in order for dinner. Whew! Now I have hours to myself, meaning I’ll probably sit here with my show in the background for a while and then look in other directions. Conversely, I may not do much at all after such a busy morning. And here comes the French brunette. Splendid. Slender and gorgeous, that one. She partially represents the rarity of what I call dark beauty. Oh, shit. She isn’t French. Well, in any case, the woman is stunning and alluring. I’d give much in exchange for the opportunity to demonstrate my appreciation for such beauty by snatching her off the screen and whisking us away from everyday life and into the goblet for a few days of excessive living. Damn... If only. Believe me, I know of the process intimately. I have detailed files. Aside from my dreamy repartee, if the breeze outside holds up for a while and the fog continues to creep in my direction, the evening may prove to be a bit cooler than yesterday. I could use a break from warm weather. This may sound odd, but I didn’t wait three decades to live near the ocean to then come here and experience weeks of warm sun during the summer and fall. I just keep seeing shit over and over and over, yet inside me nothing seems to improve. I was just in the garage to break down some boxes and have a cigarette, and right across the street – and then directly before my open garage door – was one of those sights that was spawned by the damaging dreams last year and my subsequent difficulty at the fucking festival in September. My head cannot fucking stop creating situation s in which I benefit from such visions, either. The feelings are fucking constant and my condition continues to degrade no matter the little enjoyments or projects. The two daily periods to which I keep holding tight are working in the kitchen in the morning and then preparing dinner in each evening. The latter will be taking place some time during the next hour or so, yet inside me is the expectation that at some point none of it will be enough to keep me afloat. Part of me knows how those dreams came about and why I feel so strongly toward the subject, as well as a few others that have crossed my vision. The trouble within my head and heart is beginning to force my hand in the worst way, and is the sole reason for these stupid interruptions during an otherwise very interesting story. I have gone to great lengths in the past trying to come to terms with what I have become after all these years and the reasoning behind the same. Still, when I see something that causes a mental speed bump in my day, everything goes to hell and I can’t seem to envision the narrative. I consider the way my head becomes so fucking weakened during most mornings, too. All of it adds up to the idea that the final solution from the cave period should have been applied. Much turmoil and heartache could have been avoided. This means ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, as it were. I made my decision back then and now suffer the consequences. I need an inter-fucking-vention but will resist such an event to my very core. What else can I do but keep looking and typing, all the while hoping that the next little enjoyment does the trick? Nothing. Is this where I should be right now? Tell me. Thank Christ I am an alcoholic or my brain would be intractable. I am still sitting here. One of those questions calls to the fucking hocus pocus mumbo jumbo voodoo bullshit against which I have been grating for decades. I should not be asking any questions, ever. Yes, I am angry. But that is not to say that I believe another person deserves to be on the receiving end of my mood. Part of the reason I am so fucked up these days is that there is no outlet whatsoever for the pain and anger. Everything is bottled and compressed as if I am living on the floor of the Mariana Trench. Pressure; thrice. This is a bad time. My anger solves nothing. So, here I sit on the sofa during another lost Sunday morning. Laptop, cocktail, fourth series. Splendid. The drive this morning was anything but uneventful; I couldn’t even get to the highway without seeing something special, and on the heels of those first two forms was a six-foot woman jogging and appearing like a fucking runway model, all slender yet curvy. Yep, all the shit for which I have constantly searched was present from her head to toes. Everything, including facial beauty and the long, tapered neck of a gazelle. I really didn’t need that crap, although I am partially to blame because the quest never ends. I know I am looking around in the hopes of seeing a unique form. I know all of it. There was nothing of note in the City because we were in and out quickly and at an early hour, thank the maker. I don’t need to see anything else. Yesterday was more than enough to destroy my sense of need. This is so fucked up that I struggle to find the words. Anyway... Sunday means housework and garbage business. The time is 1024 and I already have the routine finished as well as a head start on the trash. My organics cart is almost to the lid, so there will be no tree trimming today. I have a few items that I’d like to fit into the residual cart, so I’ll have to venture into the garage in a little while and take care of some business. I am hoping the work today can help alleviate the massive desire looming just behind my every thought. I can’t have a period of uselessness on a fucking Sunday regardless of whatever may be affecting me. This is a very bad time, but whatever difficulty may have me on the edge of a horrible precipice, I have responsibilities. Without this routine and my weekly chores, the living situation would be radically different right now. That is not to say that I am ‘earning my keep’, either. The statement means my funeral would have come and gone long ago. I am still hanging on, but not by much. Take that as you wish. Thank Christ I have free reign when it comes to stocking the bar. Directly behind my stare for the rest of the day will be everything I saw yesterday coupled with feelings which can never be alleviated. Wonderful. I have no recourse, nor do the ears exist. More will occur, too, meaning the cumulative effect of what has already transpired is going to weigh more and more on my mind. Today is a prime example of when I see the destination of everything finally coming to a head. Not good. I’ll have to do my best to remain busy until the reward of the evening comes along. For reasons of good form, I’ll be waiting until the morning cocktail is consumed before moving in any other direction. I am very sad right now. Hopefully, such deep sadness will not change to anger. The batteries in this machine are mostly depleted. I’ll have to move to the office soon. Tuesday morning, 1008 is what I see on the clock, and I already have the daily routine finished. There is a nice glass of depressant sitting here on the table. Both cars are in the driveway even though she is at work. Yesterday there was a fucking whack job in the alley behind her grandmother’s apartment building who proceeded to vandalize anything involving the color blue, including her car. The windshield was hit with a piece of metal, meaning the car had to be towed back here. The operation ran pretty damned late, too. I have the Safelite people scheduled to come tomorrow morning to replace the glass. After the work is completed, I need to vacuum the interior because the pieces went all over the place. I am not going to clean prior to the windshield being replaced, either. More glass is going to fall into the car. She is going to have to drive my car to work as a result of all this shit. That’s fine. I drove her to work today and will be returning south during the afternoon just like I did at the beginning of the pandemic. The memories flowed through my brain as I drove, and naturally there were all sorts of forms in that shopping center. I am not surprised at all. The second drive will probably be similar. Ugh. Her dad is going to visit in a few hours to pick up some items, but other than that, I am going to take it easy for the remainder of my time at home. The weather is very unsettled due to the massive tropical storm crossing southern California. The humidity is up, the clouds are fascinating, and there is a nice breeze going through the house. All the more comfortable for yours truly. Those visions from this morning were much like the difficult shit that was close by two days ago. There was another yesterday afternoon but I can’t really talk about it. All this crap is driving me up the fucking wall, too. As I said earlier, I just keep seeing and seeing and seeing, the inside of me worsening with each occurrence. Nothing ever comes of my feelings, either, and the result is my mental stability dropping a little notch with each passing hour. The housework pushes it away, as does some of the media I watch, yet overall there is a cumulative effect of being so bottled up combined with more desperate desire than I have ever felt in my life. Downward seems to be the only trajectory that exists for me anymore. Little events, such as the race in July or the idea of attending the big car shows at the fairgrounds used to push me out of the din for a time, but anymore those enjoyable occasions no longer have the power to lift me for more than a few moments at a time. The fall is always right on the heels of whatever I try to do. The only aspect of the current period that keeps my head above water is the fact that I know we will be ok in this little house. I am speaking almost exclusively of life’s necessities. I have to remain mindful that there are millions without such stability. I have to appreciate every single moment of each day because they could come to a crashing halt given the proper circumstances, rather like a city in the southern half of the state that was experiencing damage from the storm, only to be hit with a decent-sized earthquake right in the fucking middle of it all. I don’t wish that shit upon anyone. So, sitting here as I am right now with a view out the window, some HD media streaming on the right-hand display and a nice cocktail must be considered good fortune above all the other shit. The inside of my head may be completely fucked up, but there is a roof, food and warmth aplenty. I always think that I could be mentally and emotionally screwed up and living under a bridge somewhere, the image eventually forcing me to appreciate where I reside. 1032. Part of me is overjoyed to be sitting in this chair right now. There are chiclets on the screen again. She is so fucking cute sometimes. I’d love to... Never mind. Wow is the wind ever strong right now. Violet has one hell of a nose. Just a thought. I am so looking forward to this evening being much more comfortable and peaceful than yesterday. The car issue ran pretty late, but I still grilled the roast and it came out very good. Once I return from the afternoon drive, I am hoping nothing dramatic takes place to interrupt what is typically one of the best parts of the day... Dinner and something on the television. Last night I was in the garage with my neighbor until the tow truck arrived, and then a while longer once the car was parked safely in the driveway. Tonight should be much more relaxing. I hope, anyway. And I really don’t need to see those beautiful bouncing breasts again because each sighting sends my head back in time to the first of the three damaging dreams. Yep, those again. As much as I need to see her, I also need to avoid any further detriment to my psyche. I am planning to utilize the leftover beef in some dish and then cook the corn. Steak and corn is a wonderful combination, although I may add the yummy kale salad tonight. I’ll give you a breakdown: kale (stripped from the stems), sunflower sprouts, three different seeds (sesame, sunflower and pumpkin), and red onion tossed in a light dressing. The ingredients for the dressing are fresh lemon juice, liquid aminos (like soy sauce) and olive oil of the EV variety. There is also a bit of fresh garlic thrown into the dressing shaker for good form. The salad is dressed a couple of hours prior to dinner so that the oil has a chance to soften the kale a bit. The combination is dreamy, to be honest. We were buying the pre-made salad, but after looking over the ingredients, I realized I could make several salads over a period of days for less money. Moreover, I can adjust the individual parts in order to tweak the flavor to our liking. I have to say it is one of the most unique salads I’ve ever had. The wind seems to be increasing in strength as I type these words. Wow. The storm has had an unreal effect upon the climate here in the northern half of the state. There is Jessica again. I wish I could plant my lips to her delicate labia for six fucking months. Damn. Nope. And? Shut up. Imagine me including a salad recipe on the site. Heh. Violet just donned clothing I can’t describe and proceeded to do something that has caused me more mental and physical pain than anything else in the world, and believe me when I say that she looked amazing in that outfit. Nothing good is in my future, the aforementioned living situation notwithstanding. I can be fairly comfortable while remaining miserable. Tuesday morning, early. My memories of a dream this morning are fading fast and I need them to remain inside me. I still can’t believe who I was with during the dream. Right next to me. I think she was my sister, or at least a very close friend. There were others, too... Three or four, and I was trying to avoid staring as they approached me to walk through the house and head to the pool. Bikinis, all of them. Between where I was standing and the others, there was one woman trying to reason with me about something, eventually leading us to the dining room (or whatever it was) for a discussion across the table that seemed very important. The face I saw before me was that of Jamie from the sixth season, all slender and huge eyes apparent, and the one next to her was unknown to me. They were trying to reason with me about something, but I can’ remember now. Eventually I broke down and laid on the floor out of exhaustion. Afterward, Jamie felt bad for me and laid next to me for comfort. The other woman disappeared. Outside the back window were three girls frolicking in the pool. I was very upset, too. She held me, just as I’ve dreamed for years. She somehow knew exactly what I needed to feel better. Within minutes, her arms were around me and my face was nuzzled into her neck. This is very painful. 0754. I successfully switched all of the necessary items between the cars, got her off to work in mine, and then turned the other car around to ease the work on the windshield today. Ugh. These are all positives and I am generally proud of myself for handling the details of life ALL THE FUCKING TIME, yet the dream from earlier combined with my normal feelings of loss during the mornings are pushing me down, hard. It’s bad enough to see her big, beautiful eyes looking into mine with emotion, but worse when she is right next to me and then torn away. The woman loved me; I could feel it all the way through my being, and to lose that after needing her for many years is not going to do me any good. My condition is worsening every day. Right now I am so fucking discouraged that nothing matters. I tend to dwell upon anything that feels good (all of it being complete fiction, of course), and then my subconscious creates the dreams out of sheer desperation. The damaging dreams were bad enough. This morning was the third time Jamie and I were together and the result of awakening from such bliss is very painful. My needs have gone all the way off the deep end. All the fucking way, for sure. Today is not going to amount to much. I already don’t give a shit. I need her more than ever and she doesn’t exist. Marvelous. I may as well wish to fly to the fucking moon with my own wings. This is a very bad situation. Seeing those bikinis – I am familiar with one of the girls – was plenty to fill my head with shit for days. Adding Jamie to the pile will not help me, nor will it be good for anyone else that must deal with my personality directly. As I said before, there are no more ‘ups’, only a steady stream of ‘downs’. I think Sarah has the most prominent chiclets. Just a thought. Her sister is far from happy right now, though. Amber doesn’t give a blue fuck about Sarah’s teeth. Heh. And the beautiful Cindy all down this entry doesn’t care about what I need her to allow. Ugh. That one isn’t funny in the least. I am waiting for the technician that is going to replace the windshield. I have to remain on-call for the time being, so I’ll go through the daily motions until work begins. I can’t seem to get the image of those three swimsuits out of my head this morning and the subsequent daydreaming is attempting to put the kibosh to any clear thinking. Damn it, anyway. They were beautiful, but the kicker was knowing Jamie was going to make everything ok. I hate feeling this way. My routine will begin once the coffee is gone and all that shit from the dream this morning will likely follow along like a shadow bent upon my destruction. Considering how fragile and sensitive I have become throughout the last three-plus years, I am surprised to be sitting here typing. My stomach is a touch out of sorts, too. The feeling will probably go away once the windshield replacement is underway. Anything outside my normal weekday activities causes me to be uncomfortable; today is no different. It’ll pass soon enough. I hope, anyway. I don’t need anything else to chew on my insides these days. 0907 is the time on my little clock. I’ll begin the housework in a little bit, perhaps after the coffee. My head is sideways this morning, but not in typical fashion. I am feeling more lonely than anything else, meaning the daily desperate desire is not present right now, only the realization of so much loss over the years. Moreover, seeing one girl in particular within my dream is dredging memories of those from last year that began one of the most damaging situations of my entire life, and something I was not prepared to consider. I am still unprepared, in fact, and the more references that come along, the worse I feel. Later. My daily routine is finished and the technician is here working on the windshield replacement. The task should be complete within an hour or so. In the meantime, my plan is to remain here at the control center and sip my drink. The dream from early this morning has not left my head for a fucking second. I can’t stop seeing Jamie’s eyes right in front of my face. She was so sweet and understanding, forcing memories of Ashley caring for me while I tried to care for her. I need it so bad right now that I just might go insane. As for the three girls clad in bikinis and heading for the pool, they represent last year’s confusion and are driving me to drink. Close, but a billion fucking miles away. Everything is far away right now. The keyboard pays no mind. One more time for posterity, this is no way to live. What the hell can I do? Answer me. No one home. These feelings are very dangerous, and even more so due to my lack of resources or options. I am stuck here... Mired. Moreover, the further into the future I gaze sometimes, the less happiness I see. Fewer options, as well. I’ve seen myself become increasingly sensitive and closed off throughout the last few years, and attached to both of those is knowledge of my mind rejecting convention and embracing more of what is unreal. I have been forced to hold my tongue during conversations with other people, too. I’ve noticed more and more of that as time passes, actually. When it comes to matters of emotion or desire, my brain immediately shuts all doors when the topics are gleaned by those with whom I am in contact. The problem is only in person, to be honest, because I have complete control over electronic information. I often think of my mobile phone much like a pager from many years ago, in that others do not know if I have read or acknowledged a message or call. Most of the time I don’t even care when it makes noise. Bigger fish, and all that shit. For reasons of good form, I do try to communicate with a few individuals. They are close and though I am all fucked up inside, no one is aware. I have to keep it that way. The idea of remaining quiet when speaking with others in person has become increasingly difficult, as well. I am fucking desperate for the correct type of attention. And speaking along such lines, there is Bridget and her never-ending slew of amazing features. What I wouldn’t fucking give, I tell you. Everything in the world. No one knows... ‘Status quo is the only way to go’, as it were. Mouth closed. You can thank me later. 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Wait a minute... Did that paragraph reference the French girl? Someone else? A dream? Reality? I don't fucking know. Just fill in whatever the fuck you want and then condemn me for such wording. I don't care and have zero to lose. Come here and slice my neck open. Do everyone a favor. I’m going to lose my fucking mind over this shit. Last year’s dreams were bad enough, but to have everything exacerbated by more skin and less sense right when I am falling off a cliff is not going to help matters in the least. I’ve already seen far too much to simply let the visions fall away from my consciousness, as well. Way too fucking much. And then the dream? A fucking bikini? I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, damn it. The inside of my head is a wasteland of weakness and desperation, and then the fucking world sends me more information seeminly to help push me over the edge. I already wanted her enough. I didn’t need anything else to increase the desire. Maybe this won’t be the last intermission. The story of the doors feels so far away right now that I can’t even begin to imagine a continuation with a measure of sense or coherence. Any effort in such a vein would likely be nothing more than a huge mess. I can’t have that, so everything remains off the burner until such time as I can think straight (not likely). Live with it. Just now a very powerful helicopter flew overhead and the sound was so loud I thought it might be attempting to land on my driveway. Geez. I love the sound, though. Really cool. I’ve been fascinated by aircraft ever since my grandfather took me flying for the first time. Well, maybe not that far back. I recall being told that we flew to Disneyland when I was two years old and I can’t remember the actual flight, but it happened. At least the point of how long I’ve been involved with aviation is clear. Whatever. It’s a long fucking time. Nearly my entire family is gone. My head is all over the place today. Big surprise. I feel like destroying something. Contrarily, sometimes when my head is this bad, I simply want to fuck Sarah’s brains right out of her pretty head. The feeling is rare, she is not real, and my words have most likely been influenced by a decidedly overpowering lack of caring. This day is going nowhere. Thank Christ the car has been repaired. 1334. Laundry is underway and the dry cleaning is finished. I don’t know what else to do, though. My head is so fucking sideways that righting it may never be possible, or at least so difficult that thinking straight will become more elusive than everything else I need. Holy fuck is Bridget ever a study in form. Jesus. Anyway, since this day has been both productive and completely disastrous, I figure once the laundry is finished I will be the same. Finished. Dinner is going to be pretty simple, too. All I have to do is make the salad I’ve mentioned and give it time to meld in the refrigerator. The rest won’t take much time. I just hope the evening is relaxing. This entry is going nowhere and hasn’t for days. Here I am talking about housework and dinner again. What a maroon. I guess I’m capable of much less than in the past. Wednesday is here. 0805. I missed something. There was a bit, but not nearly enough. I made the decision to try to remain unconcerned, yet afterward I realized such a stance is just not possible for me any longer. Now I am feeling as if I lost something that could have been special, and the idea that I can never know for sure is a large part of the problem. My brain cannot calculate avoidance of anything that appears to be along the lines of the lines, if that makes sense. A form near to my obsession will dictate my actions and thoughts for a while and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. I missed something this morning and it hurts. I really don’t like missed opportunities, either. The fact is that no matter how much I try to rationalize the idea of staring or the reverse action of looking away until I know the coast is clear, neither really helps. I can tell myself that it’s ‘ok’ to miss out. Inside is another story. The former is a flat lie, and that is not a joke. This morning is no different than any other opportunity throughout the last year-plus, and I feel like shit. I’ve seen far too much, yet at the same time nothing is ever enough. This is no way to live. I have coffee and the usual atmosphere in the office for the time being, after which I’ll take care of the routine and then a trip to a couple of stores for some staples. I’ll be happy to arrive back home so the daily comfort will be available. This is actually the first day in four which will be fairly normal after all of the car business and such. I’ll have to look outside the typical housework and see what can be improved. If I feel like it, that is. Right now I don’t know how the remainder of the day will progress. Everything I need is gone or otherwise not possible. I wish I didn’t know what I know. 1001. My daily stuff is finished and I have a little time before heading out to do a bit of shopping. Naturally, there is a big glass of whiskey sitting on the table. My little leather knife case arrived from Florida and it’s really cool. Now my prized (very rare) 58mm SAK is well-protected. Nice. I may get another one for the daily-use knife. As for this morning, my head is all fucked up due to yesterday’s failure and subsequent self-loathing. I don’t like this and must work to prevent such occurrences in the future. If I can feel even a smidgen better, the effort will prove worthwhile. I really don’t like feeling this way but it is partly my own fucking fault. Whatever. I am a person, and as such, subject to mistakes and self-induced pitfalls in life. That is not an excuse, either. It is merely a reason. Onward. I honestly need to be half in the fucking bag in order to go shopping, just in case. One more time for reasons of good form... This is no way to live. I still don’t know about the story of the doors. Earlier today I speculated that some of it was beginning to hit home a bit too much and that was the reason for the delay, but right now I just don’t know. Being creative is not easy at all. The au pair just climbed into her truck, complete with gyrating cheeks and lines on display. Wonderful. I really didn’t need that, but as I said before, nothing in the universe has enough power to stop me from looking. Where was I? Ah... The story. Part of the difficulty is knowing I’ve put lots of information to the screen, pulled it from the site at a later time, and then regretted publishing in the first place. I have said many times that sharing anything personal is far too risky for my peace of mind. The reason is once I let loose the words, I cannot get them back, nor can I exercise control over where the information goes afterward. There is a catharsis, however, yet I still don’t know if the realization is worthwhile. This line of thinking is further supported by a line of dialog from the great Eric Northman: ‘I’ve tried trusting; I’ve tried sharing... And it’s just not fuckin’ workin’ for me.’ I love it. Most days when I sit at this machine and type my thoughts and relate fiction to reality, the idea that I am opening myself up to criticism and backlash swirls through my head almost constantly. I’ve been there. I’ve shared in person, believe it or not, and to this very fucking second, I still regret the fact. It’s bad, damn it, and there is nothing I can do about it. Speaking with another person or knowing that what I’ve published requires trust that the information will not be further shared, abused, or ridiculed, and trusting is pretty damned low on my list of abilities, especially now. To put an even finer point on this shit, I do not trust another soul on earth anymore. And I mean NO ONE. There is no limit nor exception to such a statement, hence the sensitive nature of the story having been kiboshed for the time being. I don’t know if or when I can continue the saga. And now there is Bridget wearing a thin t-shirt with nothing underneath. The sight drives me fucking insane every time. She reminds me of... Wait for it... Ashley. And you should know that the actress who portrayed Bridget is named Ashley. Isn’t that fucking splendid? Well, the Raven looked similar, but Ashley was the first girl to stand before me looking EXACTLY how I had envisioned. What does that make me? I don’t fucking care because I have effectively detached myself from society to such an extent to where my words can affect no one else. Oh, people can read and condemn me all they want, yet the truth is not a soul on earth will ever stand before me and take issue with anything I’ve said or typed. I will no longer allow such occurrences because my head can’t deal with people anymore. The sight of Bridget in that shirt is something I can’t fully describe, nor can it be a topic for debate, ever. Too many years of being routed and squished have made me into what you may be imagining. Time and circumstance. And to extend the extent... Be happy that you will never have to be party to an in-person conversation with yours truly. It would be very uncomfortable. I have demonstrated the innate ability to bury people via wording and I will fucking do it again if necessary. Watch the show. Look at her. Learn if you can see what I see and then calculate what it may mean to you. I am not in a very good mood right now. I think the recent font change is a good thing. To me, the site is much more readable and the text more consistent. This fucking place is all about information exchange, so readability is paramount. Jesus fucking Harold Christ in an unlined bra... Watching the shot of Bridget climbing into Jason’s patrol car is nearly too much to bear. Damn, do I ever want to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Fuck me. I lost my train of thought again. Well, the garage is closed and I am about to get cleaned up and head to a couple of stores. I need to take care of business early because as the hours pass, more cars will be on the road. I must have comfort, meaning once I arrive back home I’ll feel much better. I thought the end of this entry was close, but I keep adding images between sections and lengthening the entire essay. My words are completely worthless anymore, although as I have mentioned on many occasions, I love typing, so this one is going to continue for the duration. At least so long as I maintain the flow of thinking, anyway. I don’t know what the fuck else to do. My life has been reduced to near-nothingness. This is all so very sad. I am sad. My existence is sad. The vampire series is but minutes from ending. I’ll have to consider options for what I follow next. Isn’t that exciting? Are you on the edge of your seat waiting for the big reveal of my next program? I’ll bet. This is what my life has become. I need to play with Bridget’s beautiful breasts. Shut up. 1326. I ventured up the highway for the smoke shop, gas station and market. All that crap is out of the way, as is finalizing the kitchen so it is ready for dinner preparations. I need to consider dinner tomorrow, too. Upon returning after shopping and gas, I imagined the days of old when I used to sit at a nice, comfortable bar/restaurant for lunch once a week. Relaxing with a cocktail, atmosphere and the portable word processor was always rewarding. I actually entertained the idea of heading over to one of my favorites to have some good food, but alas my better judgment got the best of me and I relinquished the thought almost immediately. The present cannot mirror the past no matter how much I try. It’s just not going to happen. This is no way to live. Dreams and then nothing. Daydreams and then nothing. Wishes? Nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore aside from going through the motions. Even my new diet isn’t making me feel good. It’s good for me, but does such a state even matter anymore? I’m going to be miserable anyway. I’ve always had what I refer to as ‘the big three’ hobbies at my disposal. Photography, administration of the site, and my truck. Not one of them is holding up lately. This is a right sad state of affairs. It sucks out loud and right down to the ground. I can’t even destroy anything. The time is now 1446 and I returned to the dragon series for some reason. I do love that the king doesn’t take any shit from his queen. So funny. Well, there’s one interest which has not been diminished... Video media. Something wondrous may happen but I can’t be certain yet. If so, I’m going to lose my shit for a few minutes. In the interest of consideration for my book idea, I am printing the first chapter to see if the words hold up on paper. At least the printer troubles seem to have gone away. It’s working fine now. As for the prospect of the story leading somewhere, I just don’t know. I’ve read that publishing anything these days is nearly impossible for an inexperienced author. Time will tell, I guess. As I said, the printer woes are absent of late. Very good. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can plow, nor is the heat helping my cause to be comfortable in life. I am not referring to the weather, for fuck’s sake, but the heat that has been taken during a few key situations (sans recourse, naturally). Every day I try to find my way by embracing whatever has the ability to bring me a bit of solace. On the entertainment front, I gave up trying to find ways of streaming five different channels in order to watch live pro football this fall. I pulled the trigger on a plan that will carry my needs all the way through the season and then come to an abrupt halt after February. I’ve been scouring information to see which channels are already covered by the services currently in use here, yet there is always a brick wall at some point because the major networks also happen to own lots of other cable channels and they don’t want to sell viewership individually. That is to say they must be bundled, a practice I’ve tried to avoid for the last two years to save money. So far, the way the media is priced right now is but one third of the total prior to dumping our cable box. That means I don’t want to nickel and dime my way back to a massive price tag just to watch football. The other option would be to view all of the games at the bar, but my typical tab after visiting for a few hours is more than the fucking streaming package for an entire month. That’s not bullshit, either. So, I’ve got everything in order to watch my games right here at home without issue for the entire season. Very good. The bottom line is watching pro football on the cheap or at a low cost is simply not going to happen. Football is big business, and one way another, fans are going to pay. So am I. One way or another, I am going to watch the games. That is that. Very exciting, eh? Nope. The clock is past four now, so I’ll have to head into the kitchen soon to make revolutions for dinner (again, that is a submarine term) with my other show in the background. Dinner is going to be pretty simple tonight, too. I’m glad. Thursday morning... Coffee. Nothing on the right-hand display yet because I can’t decide what to watch. I began watching the dragon series yesterday, but the show irritates me too often to leave it running in the background. I suppose the older generation will have to suffice for the time being, or until I can get her bouncing breasts and bare midriff out of my fucking brain. This morning is already a pain in the ass. I was pretty fucking pissed off last night while sitting around in the garage with others, too. The process began early as I sat and considered everything I’ve done in this life as opposed to where I am right now. The gradient is about as stark as is imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am, although I will say that the road has been pretty long and fairly slow, rather like comparing oneself to a past version by looking at photos dated decades apart. This is not good and represents just another facet of the mass of ‘not good’ shit in my head. The bouncing breasts are merely a symptom. Sometimes I don’t know how in the blue fuck I get out o bed in the morning. Perhaps I still have a sense of responsibility. Hmm. I am still pissed off, though. As I said, last night was rather shitty and I cut it short and tossed the others out before heading downhill. Ten at night is my new limit, and I will probably avoid such situations unless the heat drives me out of the house as it did yesterday. I’m tired of wasting my time – and efforts in thinking – on other people. So, the dinner I did not make last night will probably be cooked early today and then simply reheated during the evening. As for the rest of my hours alone, I am overjoyed to be alone. Each day the intensity of my feelings increases, eventually leading me to be pretty angry and/or sad. There does not seem to be anything I can do about it because the passage of time demonstrates the ill-fated idea that the longer I sit here, the further back the memories drift. I can’t do anything about the clock running, though. Time is unstoppable, and as such, pushes me to believe that with each passing day, the holes inside me become more difficult to fill. That pretty much sums up the whole shitaree, too. I do not expect anything to change for the better, nor do I anticipate something good coming along to help me. If I reach, I have to trust, and that is about as likely as me strapping the Passion to my waiting wrist. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. I’ll keep pointing out such a fact for posterity, as well. I don’t know what else to do anymore. 0917. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll begin my housework. I have some laundry and the daily routine, and then perhaps near lunchtime I’ll cook for tonight. The weather is already warming quite a bit at such an early hour. I guess nothing I say here matters. Typing will not solve anything, although the truth is through years of routing, squishing and being a generally ‘nice’ person, I’ve allowed certain aspects of life to be removed. When combined with the two shit situations from the past, the mix has become nearly unlivable. I get angry, and nothing changes. I become overly sad, and nothing changes. I sit here and speak of my feelings, and nothing changes. Maybe it’s time to pass the fucking hat. You tell me what to do, if you dare. Intermission... OVER." 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
Intermission, Last Mature content No. 392 Published August 24th, 2023 9:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Saturday morning is here. I have my coffee and several hours to myself. I’ll take care of the usual business in a little while and then perhaps run some laundry. Yesterday only worked about half as well as I would have preferred, so maybe I can make today a bit better. Right now, though, I have to relax and think. I see my neighbor is already outside replacing the fucking starter motor for the second time but I am in no mood to help as of yet. He’s plenty capable, though, and considering the staggering number of occasions in which I’ve helped with everything, I believe a break is justified. My plan is to finish my coffee and then work on the routine, after which I will probably return to the office and straighten all of the items which seem to gather on the tables. The new printer is parked on this table, meaning I can reconfigure the drafting table to be better organized. I was able to reset the HT receiver yesterday and get everything working properly again, too. Very nice. I even went further and figured out why the DD was not present while streaming certain media. I fixed everything, so once again my shows can follow me around during my housework. And now... It was special to her. Very special. My heart swelled just knowing that she understood and felt in a way now unique in life. She knew and went forward no matter the words that came out of my mouth. She just... Knew. We spoke about the idea, as well, and once there was a glance from her beautiful eyes, I knew I had found someone very special and very rare. Now she is gone forever. Well, she’s been gone for a long fucking time, to be honest. So many years that sometimes I lose count. Much of the present difficulty is in knowing I never had to worry back then and I see and feel the fucking gradient every day. I am feeling it right now, in fact. The only problems which arose when we were together came from my past and had little to do with her loving nature. I think about her every day no matter what else may be going on, and eventually fall down because none of it can be repeated or replaced. None. I just have to sit here and fucking lump it. It’s time for housework and my friends in the background. I have to stop thinking about her. Actually, I’d like to stop thinking about everything. Such loss. 1030, straight down. Heh. Not funny. Why? Because nothing is really funny anymore. The daily routine is out of the way and I have some laundry running. So far, so good. Oh, and there is a fat glass of whiskey sitting to my left, naturally. More of the depressant for the depression. Laugh it up, motherfucks. Sunday morning with coffee. My mom used to have an album of songs entitled ‘Sunday Morning Coffee’, and that was right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow. Her music interest changed after we discovered the song on that fateful day at the electronics store. What a wonderful time. Anyway, I’ll be taking the drive to the city again this morning. There and back in a little over an hour, after which I can work on my usual stuff around the house. Yesterday I trimmed more of the tree in the front yard which leaves me freed up today for other garbage concerns. I have lots of thinking to do, as well. Always thinking. 1144. Part of my housework is finished and I have the next few hours to myself. Earlier this morning I changed the main font for the entire site from Conduit to Helvetica for reasons of good form. Also, I became irritated by the inconsistent vertical spacing of the previous choice. Now everything is cleaner and easier to read, the latter being the main fucking point of this entire endeavor. The likelihood of the font being changed again is nil. Sarah is so deluded that she seems to think everything will be alright if she maintains her wavering faith. She is such a goof, but still a prime example of adorable chiclets. I digress. Loss is the word of every day. Loss. Everything is gone. Monday. Coffee. Vampires. Yesterday was fine for a while and then it wasn’t. ‘Things are only impossible until they’re not.’ Well, I can’t agree with that one, Captain. The current situation is unalterable from my position in life. All I can do is try to enjoy what I can (while it is still available). Some of the time I spent in the garage yesterday was productive, as was a bit of the indoor stuff. Just beneath the surface of everything, however, is a mass of bad feelings, memories and the realization that the good is gone for all time. I go back and forth with that one, to be honest, because there are times when I feel alright enough to actually look ahead in life. Those confusing moments are few, though. No matter what mood I am in at a given time, right behind it is the knowledge that I cannot go anywhere. I dream each day about being elsewhere and how that may feel. None of this is helping me. There are chiclets on the screen right now. So cute. I may not have today to myself due to unforeseen circumstances. My time will progress nearly the same either way because I typically do what I need regardless of the lay of the land while home. I was thinking about the watch earlier this morning and recalled some years ago when I reached out to the manufacturer for a bit of information and hopefully photos. Well, I never received so much as an acknowledgement of my message. Nothing. Those snobby fuckswouldn’t even respond to tell me that they don’t have the time to deal with such requests. I would have understood completely, too. The truth is I didn’t expect anything beyond a short response telling me that nothing was available. Anyway, I know the club they are in and there is nothing I can do about it. The only way for me to get a response from them would be to actually seek and purchase one of the thirty watches they made and then try contacting them again. Nine-plus hundred thousand dollars? Really? I would. Many years ago I was in love with a particular model of car but nowhere near being able to afford one. All I did was look at them. Well, one sunny day my girl, myself and another friend paid a visit to the dealership in hopes of seeing the car up close. I was just off work and fairly unkempt, meaning the luxury car dealer might not be inclined to believe I had the means to make a purchase. A salesman approached me and I basically laid out the facts of the case: I wanted to see one of the cars in person. He asked if I was interested in making a deal, to which I replied, ‘Do I look like I can afford anything in this place?’ He laughed, stated that my honesty caught him completely off-guard, and then proceeded to lead the three of us into the receiving area of the dealership where two such models sat which had been unloaded just that morning. He told me not to touch, but I could stare to my heart’s content. Now THAT is some customer service. The watch people? I just don’t know, although the courtesy of a simple one-line reply could not have taken very much time out of anyone’s day. Just a thought. Oh, and on our way out of the building that day I told the car salesmen that if my circumstances were to change, I would not buy a car from anyone else. Why did I go into all that crap? Ugh. 1108. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a glass of whiskey for reasons of good form. Irish whiskey this time, too, because I’m out of the usual brand. Whatever. The increased alcohol content will probably yield a pasty mood, although I did toss in an extra ice cube. Too bad this stuff is more expensive because it is much smoother. Anyway, I was able to continue the saga of the doors this morning. My muse has returned – slightly – and for whatever reason. I really don’t know, but I will say that the subject matter is quite compelling at times. I noticed that my knife auction has topped three hundred after only a few days. This is very good for the financial situation. I’ll probably be at this machine for a while today because I need to keep the house nice and quiet. I don’t even have the video media running right now. That’s different. Most of the time I have a deep emotional need to have my friends in the background no matter what a given day may entail. Eh... Soon, perhaps. For the time being I am going to enjoy the atmosphere in the office. Maybe in a little while I’ll be tipsy enough to heat a pizza. Heh. Not funny. I never had any desire to see Bailey’s bare breasts, yet there they were in high definition on the fucking display. Thanks, assholes. She is far too precious to be unclothed on screen. I’d rather see her standing with feet together in a pair of low-rise, ‘skinny’ jeans just like someone else in recent memory. Bailey is a person and an actor, and as such can do whatever she pleases or desires. I don’t want to see her skin, though. Call me crazy, but even after five-plus seasons of this series and a plethora of nude people, I need to see her without clothing like I need another fucking hole in my head. I’ve never wanted to see Willa nude, either. Nope. Not a bit. The mystery and wonder of such form are too beautiful to be ruined by society. Thankfully, the most stunning female actors within this program never agreed to do nude scenes. I’m glad. Yes, I realize I’ve included imagery that goes far beyond what you may see during the entirety of the vampire series, but they are of models who agreed – via contract – to pose as they have. And despite my rampant desire to slather any number of gorgeous women (to whom I allude quite often), some are in my heart and will remain as such for all time. There is nothing wrong with physical desire, either. It’s natural. That is not an excuse, but the prime reason for much of what I write as it relates to the more beautiful sex. Ugh... That’s just too fucking much shit. Forgive me. I am a broken person with zero outlook, hope or ambition. Sometimes the pain gets to me in a way I can only express through references to beauty because it is directly related to the difficulty I experience every single day, and for many years. There were those situations in which I actually found what I sought, yet none of them lived terribly long. Now I don’t see anything of the like taking place in the future because I am far too broken. I appreciate much, yet experience none of it. I see and then I fall down. I do not EVER recover. The positive is that none of the actors or models – the real people – I’ve mentioned can know me in the slightest. Big positive. 1234. The time reminds me of the amazing time and date which occurred during the glow... 12:34:56 on 7/8/90. Do you remember the sequence? One second that stood out for all time, and it came to pass during the most beautiful period in memory. Well, the sequence occurred twice that day due to AM versus PM. I need more accurate information as to my work history during the glow. I need to know the dates of when I held those jobs. Don’t ask why, either. I just need to know. Call the effort ‘painting a picture’, if you must. That was quite literally the brightest time of my life. Believe it. And now here I sit on Tuesday after a fairly decent evening. This morning? Indecent is the word. I can already feel the day crumbling above my head as if it is bent upon my destruction with a shower of particles that can slice my brain to pieces. 1145. I just went through an hour of issues after trying to print one ten-page document that needs to be included with the knife after it sells. Unbelievable. There are self-driving cars all over San Francisco – many which I have seen up close and in person – that have very few issues, yet in this day and age I can’t use a new printer for one fucking document without jumping through hoops. I even threatened to toss the fucking thing into the ocean (which is a half mile down the street). I may never understand why an inkjet printer’s functioning goes all to hell when it is new and hooked up properly. I just don’t get it. Anyway, all my stuff is finished for the morning and I have hours ahead for whatever seems best. My neighbor stopped by a while ago for a morning cocktail but had to leave mid-conversation due to a business call. That’s fine. Putting up the wall and ‘making nice’ with people is very difficult sometimes and whenever the process comes to an end I am much more comfortable. I will say that the printer problems effectively derailed a situation which has been growing in importance for the last year or more, and the issue this morning was one of the worst in memory. The Goddamned current period is now worse than mere hours ago. I have no recourse whatsoever. One positive is that the water is on and I blew the air from the system. Everything is back to normal. I miss Ashley so much right now that I could die in the backyard without blinking an eye. Her mindset has been unequaled in this life. Maybe that whole year was nothing more than a dream. Well, such thoughts don’t matter because apparently my feelings follow suit. One of two possibilities will come to pass very soon. Either I will lash out without an actual ending, or shut down enough to cause those who know me to become concerned. I really don’t care which. Wednesday is here on the heels of a very strange evening and night. As for the daytime hours yesterday, something took place which initially caused tons of anger and then changed to rampant sadness and a huge lack of understanding. There is one factor – I cannot and will not go into detail – of which I am aware and have been for some years, but the truth of the matter is I’ve been affected too much to simply relax about the fucking problem and accept the way I am. Nope. That is just not going to happen because I already know of far too many causes. Anyway... This day will be what I make of it (as they all should), meaning I’ll have to take care of the usual housework and take a trip to the wine store to pick up an order. We need those staples for comfort. The early business is out of the way and I have some time to continue going through older images while I sip this mediocre coffee. Heh. I have thousands of images dating back to my first smartphone and some of them are completely unnecessary anymore. God damn does Jessica have some beautiful eyes. Doesn’t matter. Pause. 1120. I am back from the big wine store and the daily routine is finished. Bailey’s chiclets are again very apparent. Ugh. Whatever. As I mentioned earlier, I have hours to myself which will probably entail some detailed thinking and organization both in the office and on this machine. I need to French kiss that girl’s labia so badly that sometimes I can’t function. Shut up. I don’t need to be judged because this is what I’ve become as a result of time and circumstance. What was I saying? Ah... Today. After the strange dreams early this morning coupled with the shit situation from yesterday, my intention is to attempt to understand why my brain has been operating in such a fashion. The fucked up aspect from yesterday has been exacerbated by the past and is beginning to lead the little enjoyments right off a fucking cliff. This is not good. Holy God... Her fucking legs again. Shit. Stop it, idiot. I have to find a way to harness a bit of strength and move along through the day without completely losing my shit for the last time. If that happens, some possible good of the future could be lost and I don’t want to lose any more of my life. There is little hope, honestly, yet the sliver which has remained must be enough to keep my head above water. The last several weeks have shown me that ambition is a much taller order than in years passed, and finding the will to actually rise and deal with even the smallest issue has become nearly impossible. Maybe after a snack I’ll head to the garage, blast some quality music, and proceed to do more tree trimming. Improvement of the tree always helps my mental state for some reason. Right now, I just don’t know. A human being does not become so desperate to experience specific, elusive aspects of life without being disregarded for a very long time. As I’ve said before, this type of desperation is very dangerous and can lead to more disastrous consequences than the world’s past preludes to war. If you don’t believe me, a demonstration can be arranged. No one wants that. Just trust my words. This is a very bad time. The minuscule upside right now is the fact that I have replenished the liquor supply, nothing more. Thus far, I’ve been intelligent enough to know when the line is close, meaning I can control my intake in order to maintain a general quality of life here in this little house. Make no mistake, however... The bad things are ever-looming. The time is now 1525 and I believe my efforts on this day are finished. I probably won’t even make a salad to go with the leftovers for tonight. I just can’t get myself to care because trimming the tree earlier really knocked me on my ass. That type of work takes it out of me more than anything else. The more I trim the lower growth, the higher everything else remains, so I end up in the tree with a pole saw and cutting manually over my head by ten feet or more. I don’t think there is much more I can do without employing professionals. Unfortunately, their work is just too expensive. My intention is to eliminate as much interior growth as possible to ease the stress on the larger branches during high winds and storms. The tree is going to be seventy years old next summer and can use some help. Well, I guess I won’t try to work on it any further until the weekend. Maybe tomorrow if I feel ok. Today is already better than yesterday and the time is only 0818. The trip to the big wine store really weighed on my head a day ago – which is a clear indication that I am further out of balance than I had already thought – and upon returning felt much less stress. Today I don’t need to go anywhere unless I decide to be proactive and head to the market later this morning. Or not. Fuck it. I’m going to remain home all day. 1048 is the time, and the morning has been completely disastrous. I was doing fine for a while, but just before I decided to take care of the daily routine, feelings struck me which quickly took over my entire consciousness and left me flailing in the wind. Now I am more lost than I was earlier, hence remaining in the house all day. On the upside, the knife auction has surpassed the original purchase price and will serve to help with the finances even more than I had hoped. I’ll be listing another auction in a little while, that of a mechanical wristwatch that has lost its importance over the last few years. Going further, I’ll have to do some research on what else may be valuable enough to put on the chopping block, as it were. After yesterday’s exhaustion from tree trimming and other chores, the plan for today was relaxation combined with a bit of organization. So far, I’ve only accomplished the minimum. Until I decide otherwise, the status quo shall be sitting at the control center to ponder everything. We had a bit of a meeting last night in the garage, during which I tried to explain a few aspects of mobile audio electronics. Well, that went halfway south because the parameters involved can be difficult to grasp for some. In the end, however, I believe the greater good was served by way of at least a slight increase in understanding. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I’ve been fluent in such a vein for decades, so all of it is literally second nature after all these years. Even when someone else doesn’t understand the complexity as I am attempting to explain, the effort is typically for naught because to me, the simple terms are not simple to some. A vat of wondrous beauty went gliding by earlier. Damn. 1516 is the time. I finished everything I set out to do today. The remaining hours are not going to find me very productive at all. I’m currently sitting in the new office with literally nothing to say. I don’t even know why I came here in the first place except to finish the dry cleaning and stare at the tree for a few minutes for a game plan. The radio is playing quietly in the background and the fog recently flowed across the flatland and is cooling the otherwise warm temperature. One might think I’m fairly comfortable out here, but nothing inside is working very well this afternoon. My head blew wide open earlier and there is just no fixing it. Well, maybe the passage of time can help, but I always know at some point the same shit will happen. I’m fucking sick of it. I really should not be seeking images of Cindy for the site. Seeing her face causes all sorts of problems. There might be a few lines in there, too, but I can’t go into such a topic right now. I am already all fucked up due to yesterday’s fall from on high. Still reeling, honestly. I can’t fucking do anything about this shit and the frustration is driving me to think in very reckless terms. This is not good. When I see those images of Cindy’s extraordinary lines – most notably when combined with her very unique face – my mind returns to the days of yore when I was right where I needed to be, albeit those situations were nothing more than temporary illusions. I knew it and dove anyway. My thinking during those short periods was such that I accepted the pitfalls and felt they were offset by sheer bliss. Everything would come to a crashing halt and I didn’t fucking care. A part of me was continually aware that I had to embrace whatever I needed because reality just couldn’t cut the mustard at all. I feel the same way right now, yet without any decent resources, I am stuck right here in this damned chair. All I have are words. The images may be hurting me, but I need to see them as much as I need to draw breath. Cindy shall remain, along with a few others. I don’t know what the fuck else to do anymore. 0913. I’ll have to do my housework soon and get away from this shit. The gardeners are here so I had to close the garage doors. I will get into the work once they are gone. The clock has advanced to 1102 and all is not well. The daily routine is finished and I have laundry in the washer, meaning one might believe that my day is going well. Nope... Quite the reverse, and that despite the fact that I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey here on the table. If I state that I ‘need’ it, is that a bad thing? Probably. The truth is that the routine of a cocktail and my typical housework has become a cemented lifestyle. There is nothing I can do about it in the short term. I need the comfort inherent in a very controlled atmosphere, and that includes the alcohol. The drink is a small positive floating with the tide of a sea of negatives. I have no intention of altering the way I live through the days. The yoga scene from S7.E3 drives me up the fucking wall every Goddamned time. I can’t help it after years of being so desperate for the most elusive and beautiful aspects of this life. Shut up. I have to see beauty even though it is not real. Why? Because reality is a scourge anymore. Just... Shut up. I need it. As for the rest of the day, I’ll finish off the laundry and try to consider options other than just sitting on my ass. I am doing my best to avoid this day from becoming like the last. The process is not easy by any means. And there is a different French girl on the screen right now. Not the one from the gangster series, but another. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Never mind. I am not meant to be happy. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, the woman is five-nine. I didn’t know until this moment that she was so tall. Fuel on the fire, and if you thought the height fetish faded, make no fucking mistake. She kind of looks like a combination of the great Sophia Loren and Penelope Cruz. Wow. I would have a hell of a time trying to decide between her lips and labia. Shut up. I am a basket case after all this time, and considering the first occasion of me broaching such a topic took place exactly six years ago, you should be happy that my words are not more pointed. And? When this series was being filmed, low-rise jeans were still the norm. I wish the standard had not changed because a super-high waistline is fucking hideous and hides one of the best features of a woman’s body. The world is so fucking stupid. The idea that I do not understand the ways of the world is not very surprising, though, because my head has become more and more skewed over the years as a result of all of the damage, routing, and squishing I’ve endured. If you don’t believe me, you should be reading some other site. I am not in the custom of exaggerating anything, assholes. This is what I have become. Period. Chiclets again. The fucking story of the doors will continue. I swear it will. Leave me the hell alone. Thank Christ I ordered more booze the other day and restocked the bar. I need it. Perhaps the desire to numb my senses at an early hour would not have come to fruition had I never known of the beautiful Ashley. Her mindset changed everything. So sad. Like all the others, she is gone forever. Give me one wish, please. The finale of the third show kills me every time it rolls around in the rotation. Tears. I love those people more than I could ever put into words. Just... Believe me, please. I love them and will until the end of me. Later? On to the fourth show. The rotation is three, four, two, five, and then one. Figure it out. 1611. The tree again. I trimmed a few annoying limbs a while ago, just enough to top off the organics cart after the gardeners tossed the green waste into it this morning. I can’t go further because everything is very high – some of the upper, inner growth may be reachable from the ladder – and I don’t want a bunch of trimmings laying in the yard. I’ll try to continue next week. Moreover, the weather is still very warm, so anything physical takes more of a toll than during the cool days. Ugh. Once again, I am in the garage thanks to a nice breeze coming from the back door. The only thing I can do prior to dinner is spin my figurative wheels. My energy has been depleted. I don’t even know how long I can sit here at the bench because it’s nowhere near as comfortable as the office. Oh, well. I’ll do what I can. Disillusionment is ok in small doses. Larger quantities? Every fucking day? Not good. I’ve been seeing different people walking dogs, strolling in the sunshine, and riding bicycles since I ventured outside to work on the tree. A couple of them were rather interesting and forced me to consider that sitting out here on sunny days may not be the best idea for my weakened condition. Regardless, I glanced. I always make an effort to see if something rare is walking past my door. This is what I’ve become. Shoot me in the face. I don’t care. I need to fucking see. Oh, fuck... I just saw something wondrous and stirring. Damn. This shit just will not let up, ever. Splendid. Well, I would have seen that last beauty regardless of being in the garage or office. She was just too fucking close. As I said, I need to see. I am going to try to avoid going into an angry tirade regarding the last time I received a blast of shit from someone because I am constantly searching. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. Have I mentioned that lately? Ugh. I don’t feel well. The most likely combination is alcohol and depression with a touch of ‘out of shape’ thrown in for good measure. The evening should prove rewarding, including dinner preparations. At least I’ll have my friends in the background while working in the kitchen. They never cause problems, nor would they judge me for what I’ve become. I love them. I’ll have the requisite cooking cocktail and the television on. That’s one of my favorite parts of the day, believe it or not. I used to say that the morning kitchen work and dinner preparations were the two most rewarding parts of a typical day. The fact has not changed. Something pretty fucking unreal would have to transpire in order for my feelings toward life to change. Feeling the way I do this afternoon is most likely tied to all that has been lost, as well. The evening was ok after all of that concerning thought yesterday. I made it to another Saturday morning. Coffee and vampires. In about half an hour I’ll be taking the typical morning drive into the City for a quick stop, and then back to town for some shopping at the big market. The drive is typically without issues, but I will be overjoyed to return home later this morning. Pause. 1050. Everything is finished, including a trip to the market on the way home a little while ago. Unfortunately, the drive entailed a bit of a scrape a la a brush fire on the side of the highway. There was a slight delay, after which the flow of traffic improved markedly. The drive home was much quicker. Now that most everything is out of the way for the morning, I have time to relax on the sofa with this machine and enjoy a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. The weather is very warm and humid again. Hopefully, the onshore flow will take over during the afternoon and cool the house like yesterday. If not, I’ll probably be spending the afternoon and early evening in the garage. As long as the current breeze holds up, the temperature inside the house should be fine. Also, I have the flags out to honor the birthday of Norway’s crown princess. Displaying the Norwegian flag during certain holidays has become important to me because of the ‘forest’ mindset, which continues to elude me. Whatever. The American flag is always on its own right due to the federal flag code. She is beautiful, by the way. Yeah... Like you didn’t think I was aware. Shut up. Anyway, the rest of the day is under my full control and may entail a variety of tasks, or not much at all. For the time being, I have to stay off my feet after such a busy morning. I’ll sit with this endeavor until something else comes to mind. Thankfully, there was nothing of note during the drive through the City. Sometimes I fear what may be visible from the car. Yes, I said fear. The time is now 1401 and I am worn the hell out. I made a marinade for tomorrow’s roast for grilling, made another marinade for some chicken satay this evening, and went so far as to mix and simmer the sauce for tonight. It’s cooling on the stove. Once all that crap was finished, I proceeded to clean the kitchen for a second time so everything is in order for dinner. Whew! Now I have hours to myself, meaning I’ll probably sit here with my show in the background for a while and then look in other directions. Conversely, I may not do much at all after such a busy morning. And here comes the French brunette. Splendid. Slender and gorgeous, that one. She partially represents the rarity of what I call dark beauty. Oh, shit. She isn’t French. Well, in any case, the woman is stunning and alluring. I’d give much in exchange for the opportunity to demonstrate my appreciation for such beauty by snatching her off the screen and whisking us away from everyday life and into the goblet for a few days of excessive living. Damn... If only. Believe me, I know of the process intimately. I have detailed files. Aside from my dreamy repartee, if the breeze outside holds up for a while and the fog continues to creep in my direction, the evening may prove to be a bit cooler than yesterday. I could use a break from warm weather. This may sound odd, but I didn’t wait three decades to live near the ocean to then come here and experience weeks of warm sun during the summer and fall. I just keep seeing shit over and over and over, yet inside me nothing seems to improve. I was just in the garage to break down some boxes and have a cigarette, and right across the street – and then directly before my open garage door – was one of those sights that was spawned by the damaging dreams last year and my subsequent difficulty at the fucking festival in September. My head cannot fucking stop creating situation s in which I benefit from such visions, either. The feelings are fucking constant and my condition continues to degrade no matter the little enjoyments or projects. The two daily periods to which I keep holding tight are working in the kitchen in the morning and then preparing dinner in each evening. The latter will be taking place some time during the next hour or so, yet inside me is the expectation that at some point none of it will be enough to keep me afloat. Part of me knows how those dreams came about and why I feel so strongly toward the subject, as well as a few others that have crossed my vision. The trouble within my head and heart is beginning to force my hand in the worst way, and is the sole reason for these stupid interruptions during an otherwise very interesting story. I have gone to great lengths in the past trying to come to terms with what I have become after all these years and the reasoning behind the same. Still, when I see something that causes a mental speed bump in my day, everything goes to hell and I can’t seem to envision the narrative. I consider the way my head becomes so fucking weakened during most mornings, too. All of it adds up to the idea that the final solution from the cave period should have been applied. Much turmoil and heartache could have been avoided. This means ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, as it were. I made my decision back then and now suffer the consequences. I need an inter-fucking-vention but will resist such an event to my very core. What else can I do but keep looking and typing, all the while hoping that the next little enjoyment does the trick? Nothing. Is this where I should be right now? Tell me. Thank Christ I am an alcoholic or my brain would be intractable. I am still sitting here. One of those questions calls to the fucking hocus pocus mumbo jumbo voodoo bullshit against which I have been grating for decades. I should not be asking any questions, ever. Yes, I am angry. But that is not to say that I believe another person deserves to be on the receiving end of my mood. Part of the reason I am so fucked up these days is that there is no outlet whatsoever for the pain and anger. Everything is bottled and compressed as if I am living on the floor of the Mariana Trench. Pressure; thrice. This is a bad time. My anger solves nothing. So, here I sit on the sofa during another lost Sunday morning. Laptop, cocktail, fourth series. Splendid. The drive this morning was anything but uneventful; I couldn’t even get to the highway without seeing something special, and on the heels of those first two forms was a six-foot woman jogging and appearing like a fucking runway model, all slender yet curvy. Yep, all the shit for which I have constantly searched was present from her head to toes. Everything, including facial beauty and the long, tapered neck of a gazelle. I really didn’t need that crap, although I am partially to blame because the quest never ends. I know I am looking around in the hopes of seeing a unique form. I know all of it. There was nothing of note in the City because we were in and out quickly and at an early hour, thank the maker. I don’t need to see anything else. Yesterday was more than enough to destroy my sense of need. This is so fucked up that I struggle to find the words. Anyway... Sunday means housework and garbage business. The time is 1024 and I already have the routine finished as well as a head start on the trash. My organics cart is almost to the lid, so there will be no tree trimming today. I have a few items that I’d like to fit into the residual cart, so I’ll have to venture into the garage in a little while and take care of some business. I am hoping the work today can help alleviate the massive desire looming just behind my every thought. I can’t have a period of uselessness on a fucking Sunday regardless of whatever may be affecting me. This is a very bad time, but whatever difficulty may have me on the edge of a horrible precipice, I have responsibilities. Without this routine and my weekly chores, the living situation would be radically different right now. That is not to say that I am ‘earning my keep’, either. The statement means my funeral would have come and gone long ago. I am still hanging on, but not by much. Take that as you wish. Thank Christ I have free reign when it comes to stocking the bar. Directly behind my stare for the rest of the day will be everything I saw yesterday coupled with feelings which can never be alleviated. Wonderful. I have no recourse, nor do the ears exist. More will occur, too, meaning the cumulative effect of what has already transpired is going to weigh more and more on my mind. Today is a prime example of when I see the destination of everything finally coming to a head. Not good. I’ll have to do my best to remain busy until the reward of the evening comes along. For reasons of good form, I’ll be waiting until the morning cocktail is consumed before moving in any other direction. I am very sad right now. Hopefully, such deep sadness will not change to anger. The batteries in this machine are mostly depleted. I’ll have to move to the office soon. Tuesday morning, 1008 is what I see on the clock, and I already have the daily routine finished. There is a nice glass of depressant sitting here on the table. Both cars are in the driveway even though she is at work. Yesterday there was a fucking whack job in the alley behind her grandmother’s apartment building who proceeded to vandalize anything involving the color blue, including her car. The windshield was hit with a piece of metal, meaning the car had to be towed back here. The operation ran pretty damned late, too. I have the Safelite people scheduled to come tomorrow morning to replace the glass. After the work is completed, I need to vacuum the interior because the pieces went all over the place. I am not going to clean prior to the windshield being replaced, either. More glass is going to fall into the car. She is going to have to drive my car to work as a result of all this shit. That’s fine. I drove her to work today and will be returning south during the afternoon just like I did at the beginning of the pandemic. The memories flowed through my brain as I drove, and naturally there were all sorts of forms in that shopping center. I am not surprised at all. The second drive will probably be similar. Ugh. Her dad is going to visit in a few hours to pick up some items, but other than that, I am going to take it easy for the remainder of my time at home. The weather is very unsettled due to the massive tropical storm crossing southern California. The humidity is up, the clouds are fascinating, and there is a nice breeze going through the house. All the more comfortable for yours truly. Those visions from this morning were much like the difficult shit that was close by two days ago. There was another yesterday afternoon but I can’t really talk about it. All this crap is driving me up the fucking wall, too. As I said earlier, I just keep seeing and seeing and seeing, the inside of me worsening with each occurrence. Nothing ever comes of my feelings, either, and the result is my mental stability dropping a little notch with each passing hour. The housework pushes it away, as does some of the media I watch, yet overall there is a cumulative effect of being so bottled up combined with more desperate desire than I have ever felt in my life. Downward seems to be the only trajectory that exists for me anymore. Little events, such as the race in July or the idea of attending the big car shows at the fairgrounds used to push me out of the din for a time, but anymore those enjoyable occasions no longer have the power to lift me for more than a few moments at a time. The fall is always right on the heels of whatever I try to do. The only aspect of the current period that keeps my head above water is the fact that I know we will be ok in this little house. I am speaking almost exclusively of life’s necessities. I have to remain mindful that there are millions without such stability. I have to appreciate every single moment of each day because they could come to a crashing halt given the proper circumstances, rather like a city in the southern half of the state that was experiencing damage from the storm, only to be hit with a decent-sized earthquake right in the fucking middle of it all. I don’t wish that shit upon anyone. So, sitting here as I am right now with a view out the window, some HD media streaming on the right-hand display and a nice cocktail must be considered good fortune above all the other shit. The inside of my head may be completely fucked up, but there is a roof, food and warmth aplenty. I always think that I could be mentally and emotionally screwed up and living under a bridge somewhere, the image eventually forcing me to appreciate where I reside. 1032. Part of me is overjoyed to be sitting in this chair right now. There are chiclets on the screen again. She is so fucking cute sometimes. I’d love to... Never mind. Wow is the wind ever strong right now. Violet has one hell of a nose. Just a thought. I am so looking forward to this evening being much more comfortable and peaceful than yesterday. The car issue ran pretty late, but I still grilled the roast and it came out very good. Once I return from the afternoon drive, I am hoping nothing dramatic takes place to interrupt what is typically one of the best parts of the day... Dinner and something on the television. Last night I was in the garage with my neighbor until the tow truck arrived, and then a while longer once the car was parked safely in the driveway. Tonight should be much more relaxing. I hope, anyway. And I really don’t need to see those beautiful bouncing breasts again because each sighting sends my head back in time to the first of the three damaging dreams. Yep, those again. As much as I need to see her, I also need to avoid any further detriment to my psyche. I am planning to utilize the leftover beef in some dish and then cook the corn. Steak and corn is a wonderful combination, although I may add the yummy kale salad tonight. I’ll give you a breakdown: kale (stripped from the stems), sunflower sprouts, three different seeds (sesame, sunflower and pumpkin), and red onion tossed in a light dressing. The ingredients for the dressing are fresh lemon juice, liquid aminos (like soy sauce) and olive oil of the EV variety. There is also a bit of fresh garlic thrown into the dressing shaker for good form. The salad is dressed a couple of hours prior to dinner so that the oil has a chance to soften the kale a bit. The combination is dreamy, to be honest. We were buying the pre-made salad, but after looking over the ingredients, I realized I could make several salads over a period of days for less money. Moreover, I can adjust the individual parts in order to tweak the flavor to our liking. I have to say it is one of the most unique salads I’ve ever had. The wind seems to be increasing in strength as I type these words. Wow. The storm has had an unreal effect upon the climate here in the northern half of the state. There is Jessica again. I wish I could plant my lips to her delicate labia for six fucking months. Damn. Nope. And? Shut up. Imagine me including a salad recipe on the site. Heh. Violet just donned clothing I can’t describe and proceeded to do something that has caused me more mental and physical pain than anything else in the world, and believe me when I say that she looked amazing in that outfit. Nothing good is in my future, the aforementioned living situation notwithstanding. I can be fairly comfortable while remaining miserable. Tuesday morning, early. My memories of a dream this morning are fading fast and I need them to remain inside me. I still can’t believe who I was with during the dream. Right next to me. I think she was my sister, or at least a very close friend. There were others, too... Three or four, and I was trying to avoid staring as they approached me to walk through the house and head to the pool. Bikinis, all of them. Between where I was standing and the others, there was one woman trying to reason with me about something, eventually leading us to the dining room (or whatever it was) for a discussion across the table that seemed very important. The face I saw before me was that of Jamie from the sixth season, all slender and huge eyes apparent, and the one next to her was unknown to me. They were trying to reason with me about something, but I can’ remember now. Eventually I broke down and laid on the floor out of exhaustion. Afterward, Jamie felt bad for me and laid next to me for comfort. The other woman disappeared. Outside the back window were three girls frolicking in the pool. I was very upset, too. She held me, just as I’ve dreamed for years. She somehow knew exactly what I needed to feel better. Within minutes, her arms were around me and my face was nuzzled into her neck. This is very painful. 0754. I successfully switched all of the necessary items between the cars, got her off to work in mine, and then turned the other car around to ease the work on the windshield today. Ugh. These are all positives and I am generally proud of myself for handling the details of life ALL THE FUCKING TIME, yet the dream from earlier combined with my normal feelings of loss during the mornings are pushing me down, hard. It’s bad enough to see her big, beautiful eyes looking into mine with emotion, but worse when she is right next to me and then torn away. The woman loved me; I could feel it all the way through my being, and to lose that after needing her for many years is not going to do me any good. My condition is worsening every day. Right now I am so fucking discouraged that nothing matters. I tend to dwell upon anything that feels good (all of it being complete fiction, of course), and then my subconscious creates the dreams out of sheer desperation. The damaging dreams were bad enough. This morning was the third time Jamie and I were together and the result of awakening from such bliss is very painful. My needs have gone all the way off the deep end. All the fucking way, for sure. Today is not going to amount to much. I already don’t give a shit. I need her more than ever and she doesn’t exist. Marvelous. I may as well wish to fly to the fucking moon with my own wings. This is a very bad situation. Seeing those bikinis – I am familiar with one of the girls – was plenty to fill my head with shit for days. Adding Jamie to the pile will not help me, nor will it be good for anyone else that must deal with my personality directly. As I said before, there are no more ‘ups’, only a steady stream of ‘downs’. I think Sarah has the most prominent chiclets. Just a thought. Her sister is far from happy right now, though. Amber doesn’t give a blue fuck about Sarah’s teeth. Heh. And the beautiful Cindy all down this entry doesn’t care about what I need her to allow. Ugh. That one isn’t funny in the least. I am waiting for the technician that is going to replace the windshield. I have to remain on-call for the time being, so I’ll go through the daily motions until work begins. I can’t seem to get the image of those three swimsuits out of my head this morning and the subsequent daydreaming is attempting to put the kibosh to any clear thinking. Damn it, anyway. They were beautiful, but the kicker was knowing Jamie was going to make everything ok. I hate feeling this way. My routine will begin once the coffee is gone and all that shit from the dream this morning will likely follow along like a shadow bent upon my destruction. Considering how fragile and sensitive I have become throughout the last three-plus years, I am surprised to be sitting here typing. My stomach is a touch out of sorts, too. The feeling will probably go away once the windshield replacement is underway. Anything outside my normal weekday activities causes me to be uncomfortable; today is no different. It’ll pass soon enough. I hope, anyway. I don’t need anything else to chew on my insides these days. 0907 is the time on my little clock. I’ll begin the housework in a little bit, perhaps after the coffee. My head is sideways this morning, but not in typical fashion. I am feeling more lonely than anything else, meaning the daily desperate desire is not present right now, only the realization of so much loss over the years. Moreover, seeing one girl in particular within my dream is dredging memories of those from last year that began one of the most damaging situations of my entire life, and something I was not prepared to consider. I am still unprepared, in fact, and the more references that come along, the worse I feel. Later. My daily routine is finished and the technician is here working on the windshield replacement. The task should be complete within an hour or so. In the meantime, my plan is to remain here at the control center and sip my drink. The dream from early this morning has not left my head for a fucking second. I can’t stop seeing Jamie’s eyes right in front of my face. She was so sweet and understanding, forcing memories of Ashley caring for me while I tried to care for her. I need it so bad right now that I just might go insane. As for the three girls clad in bikinis and heading for the pool, they represent last year’s confusion and are driving me to drink. Close, but a billion fucking miles away. Everything is far away right now. The keyboard pays no mind. One more time for posterity, this is no way to live. What the hell can I do? Answer me. No one home. These feelings are very dangerous, and even more so due to my lack of resources or options. I am stuck here... Mired. Moreover, the further into the future I gaze sometimes, the less happiness I see. Fewer options, as well. I’ve seen myself become increasingly sensitive and closed off throughout the last few years, and attached to both of those is knowledge of my mind rejecting convention and embracing more of what is unreal. I have been forced to hold my tongue during conversations with other people, too. I’ve noticed more and more of that as time passes, actually. When it comes to matters of emotion or desire, my brain immediately shuts all doors when the topics are gleaned by those with whom I am in contact. The problem is only in person, to be honest, because I have complete control over electronic information. I often think of my mobile phone much like a pager from many years ago, in that others do not know if I have read or acknowledged a message or call. Most of the time I don’t even care when it makes noise. Bigger fish, and all that shit. For reasons of good form, I do try to communicate with a few individuals. They are close and though I am all fucked up inside, no one is aware. I have to keep it that way. The idea of remaining quiet when speaking with others in person has become increasingly difficult, as well. I am fucking desperate for the correct type of attention. And speaking along such lines, there is Bridget and her never-ending slew of amazing features. What I wouldn’t fucking give, I tell you. Everything in the world. No one knows... ‘Status quo is the only way to go’, as it were. Mouth closed. You can thank me later. 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Wait a minute... Did that paragraph reference the French girl? Someone else? A dream? Reality? I don't fucking know. Just fill in whatever the fuck you want and then condemn me for such wording. I don't care and have zero to lose. Come here and slice my neck open. Do everyone a favor. I’m going to lose my fucking mind over this shit. Last year’s dreams were bad enough, but to have everything exacerbated by more skin and less sense right when I am falling off a cliff is not going to help matters in the least. I’ve already seen far too much to simply let the visions fall away from my consciousness, as well. Way too fucking much. And then the dream? A fucking bikini? I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, damn it. The inside of my head is a wasteland of weakness and desperation, and then the fucking world sends me more information seeminly to help push me over the edge. I already wanted her enough. I didn’t need anything else to increase the desire. Maybe this won’t be the last intermission. The story of the doors feels so far away right now that I can’t even begin to imagine a continuation with a measure of sense or coherence. Any effort in such a vein would likely be nothing more than a huge mess. I can’t have that, so everything remains off the burner until such time as I can think straight (not likely). Live with it. Just now a very powerful helicopter flew overhead and the sound was so loud I thought it might be attempting to land on my driveway. Geez. I love the sound, though. Really cool. I’ve been fascinated by aircraft ever since my grandfather took me flying for the first time. Well, maybe not that far back. I recall being told that we flew to Disneyland when I was two years old and I can’t remember the actual flight, but it happened. At least the point of how long I’ve been involved with aviation is clear. Whatever. It’s a long fucking time. Nearly my entire family is gone. My head is all over the place today. Big surprise. I feel like destroying something. Contrarily, sometimes when my head is this bad, I simply want to fuck Sarah’s brains right out of her pretty head. The feeling is rare, she is not real, and my words have most likely been influenced by a decidedly overpowering lack of caring. This day is going nowhere. Thank Christ the car has been repaired. 1334. Laundry is underway and the dry cleaning is finished. I don’t know what else to do, though. My head is so fucking sideways that righting it may never be possible, or at least so difficult that thinking straight will become more elusive than everything else I need. Holy fuck is Bridget ever a study in form. Jesus. Anyway, since this day has been both productive and completely disastrous, I figure once the laundry is finished I will be the same. Finished. Dinner is going to be pretty simple, too. All I have to do is make the salad I’ve mentioned and give it time to meld in the refrigerator. The rest won’t take much time. I just hope the evening is relaxing. This entry is going nowhere and hasn’t for days. Here I am talking about housework and dinner again. What a maroon. I guess I’m capable of much less than in the past. Wednesday is here. 0805. I missed something. There was a bit, but not nearly enough. I made the decision to try to remain unconcerned, yet afterward I realized such a stance is just not possible for me any longer. Now I am feeling as if I lost something that could have been special, and the idea that I can never know for sure is a large part of the problem. My brain cannot calculate avoidance of anything that appears to be along the lines of the lines, if that makes sense. A form near to my obsession will dictate my actions and thoughts for a while and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. I missed something this morning and it hurts. I really don’t like missed opportunities, either. The fact is that no matter how much I try to rationalize the idea of staring or the reverse action of looking away until I know the coast is clear, neither really helps. I can tell myself that it’s ‘ok’ to miss out. Inside is another story. The former is a flat lie, and that is not a joke. This morning is no different than any other opportunity throughout the last year-plus, and I feel like shit. I’ve seen far too much, yet at the same time nothing is ever enough. This is no way to live. I have coffee and the usual atmosphere in the office for the time being, after which I’ll take care of the routine and then a trip to a couple of stores for some staples. I’ll be happy to arrive back home so the daily comfort will be available. This is actually the first day in four which will be fairly normal after all of the car business and such. I’ll have to look outside the typical housework and see what can be improved. If I feel like it, that is. Right now I don’t know how the remainder of the day will progress. Everything I need is gone or otherwise not possible. I wish I didn’t know what I know. 1001. My daily stuff is finished and I have a little time before heading out to do a bit of shopping. Naturally, there is a big glass of whiskey sitting on the table. My little leather knife case arrived from Florida and it’s really cool. Now my prized (very rare) 58mm SAK is well-protected. Nice. I may get another one for the daily-use knife. As for this morning, my head is all fucked up due to yesterday’s failure and subsequent self-loathing. I don’t like this and must work to prevent such occurrences in the future. If I can feel even a smidgen better, the effort will prove worthwhile. I really don’t like feeling this way but it is partly my own fucking fault. Whatever. I am a person, and as such, subject to mistakes and self-induced pitfalls in life. That is not an excuse, either. It is merely a reason. Onward. I honestly need to be half in the fucking bag in order to go shopping, just in case. One more time for reasons of good form... This is no way to live. I still don’t know about the story of the doors. Earlier today I speculated that some of it was beginning to hit home a bit too much and that was the reason for the delay, but right now I just don’t know. Being creative is not easy at all. The au pair just climbed into her truck, complete with gyrating cheeks and lines on display. Wonderful. I really didn’t need that, but as I said before, nothing in the universe has enough power to stop me from looking. Where was I? Ah... The story. Part of the difficulty is knowing I’ve put lots of information to the screen, pulled it from the site at a later time, and then regretted publishing in the first place. I have said many times that sharing anything personal is far too risky for my peace of mind. The reason is once I let loose the words, I cannot get them back, nor can I exercise control over where the information goes afterward. There is a catharsis, however, yet I still don’t know if the realization is worthwhile. This line of thinking is further supported by a line of dialog from the great Eric Northman: ‘I’ve tried trusting; I’ve tried sharing... And it’s just not fuckin’ workin’ for me.’ I love it. Most days when I sit at this machine and type my thoughts and relate fiction to reality, the idea that I am opening myself up to criticism and backlash swirls through my head almost constantly. I’ve been there. I’ve shared in person, believe it or not, and to this very fucking second, I still regret the fact. It’s bad, damn it, and there is nothing I can do about it. Speaking with another person or knowing that what I’ve published requires trust that the information will not be further shared, abused, or ridiculed, and trusting is pretty damned low on my list of abilities, especially now. To put an even finer point on this shit, I do not trust another soul on earth anymore. And I mean NO ONE. There is no limit nor exception to such a statement, hence the sensitive nature of the story having been kiboshed for the time being. I don’t know if or when I can continue the saga. And now there is Bridget wearing a thin t-shirt with nothing underneath. The sight drives me fucking insane every time. She reminds me of... Wait for it... Ashley. And you should know that the actress who portrayed Bridget is named Ashley. Isn’t that fucking splendid? Well, the Raven looked similar, but Ashley was the first girl to stand before me looking EXACTLY how I had envisioned. What does that make me? I don’t fucking care because I have effectively detached myself from society to such an extent to where my words can affect no one else. Oh, people can read and condemn me all they want, yet the truth is not a soul on earth will ever stand before me and take issue with anything I’ve said or typed. I will no longer allow such occurrences because my head can’t deal with people anymore. The sight of Bridget in that shirt is something I can’t fully describe, nor can it be a topic for debate, ever. Too many years of being routed and squished have made me into what you may be imagining. Time and circumstance. And to extend the extent... Be happy that you will never have to be party to an in-person conversation with yours truly. It would be very uncomfortable. I have demonstrated the innate ability to bury people via wording and I will fucking do it again if necessary. Watch the show. Look at her. Learn if you can see what I see and then calculate what it may mean to you. I am not in a very good mood right now. I think the recent font change is a good thing. To me, the site is much more readable and the text more consistent. This fucking place is all about information exchange, so readability is paramount. Jesus fucking Harold Christ in an unlined bra... Watching the shot of Bridget climbing into Jason’s patrol car is nearly too much to bear. Damn, do I ever want to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Fuck me. I lost my train of thought again. Well, the garage is closed and I am about to get cleaned up and head to a couple of stores. I need to take care of business early because as the hours pass, more cars will be on the road. I must have comfort, meaning once I arrive back home I’ll feel much better. I thought the end of this entry was close, but I keep adding images between sections and lengthening the entire essay. My words are completely worthless anymore, although as I have mentioned on many occasions, I love typing, so this one is going to continue for the duration. At least so long as I maintain the flow of thinking, anyway. I don’t know what the fuck else to do. My life has been reduced to near-nothingness. This is all so very sad. I am sad. My existence is sad. The vampire series is but minutes from ending. I’ll have to consider options for what I follow next. Isn’t that exciting? Are you on the edge of your seat waiting for the big reveal of my next program? I’ll bet. This is what my life has become. I need to play with Bridget’s beautiful breasts. Shut up. 1326. I ventured up the highway for the smoke shop, gas station and market. All that crap is out of the way, as is finalizing the kitchen so it is ready for dinner preparations. I need to consider dinner tomorrow, too. Upon returning after shopping and gas, I imagined the days of old when I used to sit at a nice, comfortable bar/restaurant for lunch once a week. Relaxing with a cocktail, atmosphere and the portable word processor was always rewarding. I actually entertained the idea of heading over to one of my favorites to have some good food, but alas my better judgment got the best of me and I relinquished the thought almost immediately. The present cannot mirror the past no matter how much I try. It’s just not going to happen. This is no way to live. Dreams and then nothing. Daydreams and then nothing. Wishes? Nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore aside from going through the motions. Even my new diet isn’t making me feel good. It’s good for me, but does such a state even matter anymore? I’m going to be miserable anyway. I’ve always had what I refer to as ‘the big three’ hobbies at my disposal. Photography, administration of the site, and my truck. Not one of them is holding up lately. This is a right sad state of affairs. It sucks out loud and right down to the ground. I can’t even destroy anything. The time is now 1446 and I returned to the dragon series for some reason. I do love that the king doesn’t take any shit from his queen. So funny. Well, there’s one interest which has not been diminished... Video media. Something wondrous may happen but I can’t be certain yet. If so, I’m going to lose my shit for a few minutes. In the interest of consideration for my book idea, I am printing the first chapter to see if the words hold up on paper. At least the printer troubles seem to have gone away. It’s working fine now. As for the prospect of the story leading somewhere, I just don’t know. I’ve read that publishing anything these days is nearly impossible for an inexperienced author. Time will tell, I guess. As I said, the printer woes are absent of late. Very good. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can plow, nor is the heat helping my cause to be comfortable in life. I am not referring to the weather, for fuck’s sake, but the heat that has been taken during a few key situations (sans recourse, naturally). Every day I try to find my way by embracing whatever has the ability to bring me a bit of solace. On the entertainment front, I gave up trying to find ways of streaming five different channels in order to watch live pro football this fall. I pulled the trigger on a plan that will carry my needs all the way through the season and then come to an abrupt halt after February. I’ve been scouring information to see which channels are already covered by the services currently in use here, yet there is always a brick wall at some point because the major networks also happen to own lots of other cable channels and they don’t want to sell viewership individually. That is to say they must be bundled, a practice I’ve tried to avoid for the last two years to save money. So far, the way the media is priced right now is but one third of the total prior to dumping our cable box. That means I don’t want to nickel and dime my way back to a massive price tag just to watch football. The other option would be to view all of the games at the bar, but my typical tab after visiting for a few hours is more than the fucking streaming package for an entire month. That’s not bullshit, either. So, I’ve got everything in order to watch my games right here at home without issue for the entire season. Very good. The bottom line is watching pro football on the cheap or at a low cost is simply not going to happen. Football is big business, and one way another, fans are going to pay. So am I. One way or another, I am going to watch the games. That is that. Very exciting, eh? Nope. The clock is past four now, so I’ll have to head into the kitchen soon to make revolutions for dinner (again, that is a submarine term) with my other show in the background. Dinner is going to be pretty simple tonight, too. I’m glad. Thursday morning... Coffee. Nothing on the right-hand display yet because I can’t decide what to watch. I began watching the dragon series yesterday, but the show irritates me too often to leave it running in the background. I suppose the older generation will have to suffice for the time being, or until I can get her bouncing breasts and bare midriff out of my fucking brain. This morning is already a pain in the ass. I was pretty fucking pissed off last night while sitting around in the garage with others, too. The process began early as I sat and considered everything I’ve done in this life as opposed to where I am right now. The gradient is about as stark as is imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am, although I will say that the road has been pretty long and fairly slow, rather like comparing oneself to a past version by looking at photos dated decades apart. This is not good and represents just another facet of the mass of ‘not good’ shit in my head. The bouncing breasts are merely a symptom. Sometimes I don’t know how in the blue fuck I get out o bed in the morning. Perhaps I still have a sense of responsibility. Hmm. I am still pissed off, though. As I said, last night was rather shitty and I cut it short and tossed the others out before heading downhill. Ten at night is my new limit, and I will probably avoid such situations unless the heat drives me out of the house as it did yesterday. I’m tired of wasting my time – and efforts in thinking – on other people. So, the dinner I did not make last night will probably be cooked early today and then simply reheated during the evening. As for the rest of my hours alone, I am overjoyed to be alone. Each day the intensity of my feelings increases, eventually leading me to be pretty angry and/or sad. There does not seem to be anything I can do about it because the passage of time demonstrates the ill-fated idea that the longer I sit here, the further back the memories drift. I can’t do anything about the clock running, though. Time is unstoppable, and as such, pushes me to believe that with each passing day, the holes inside me become more difficult to fill. That pretty much sums up the whole shitaree, too. I do not expect anything to change for the better, nor do I anticipate something good coming along to help me. If I reach, I have to trust, and that is about as likely as me strapping the Passion to my waiting wrist. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. I’ll keep pointing out such a fact for posterity, as well. I don’t know what else to do anymore. 0917. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll begin my housework. I have some laundry and the daily routine, and then perhaps near lunchtime I’ll cook for tonight. The weather is already warming quite a bit at such an early hour. I guess nothing I say here matters. Typing will not solve anything, although the truth is through years of routing, squishing and being a generally ‘nice’ person, I’ve allowed certain aspects of life to be removed. When combined with the two shit situations from the past, the mix has become nearly unlivable. I get angry, and nothing changes. I become overly sad, and nothing changes. I sit here and speak of my feelings, and nothing changes. Maybe it’s time to pass the fucking hat. You tell me what to do, if you dare. Intermission... OVER."
Intermission, Last
Mature content No. 392 Published August 24th, 2023 9:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Saturday morning is here. I have my coffee and several hours to myself. I’ll take care of the usual business in a little while and then perhaps run some laundry. Yesterday only worked about half as well as I would have preferred, so maybe I can make today a bit better. Right now, though, I have to relax and think. I see my neighbor is already outside replacing the fucking starter motor for the second time but I am in no mood to help as of yet. He’s plenty capable, though, and considering the staggering number of occasions in which I’ve helped with everything, I believe a break is justified. My plan is to finish my coffee and then work on the routine, after which I will probably return to the office and straighten all of the items which seem to gather on the tables. The new printer is parked on this table, meaning I can reconfigure the drafting table to be better organized. I was able to reset the HT receiver yesterday and get everything working properly again, too. Very nice. I even went further and figured out why the DD was not present while streaming certain media. I fixed everything, so once again my shows can follow me around during my housework. And now... It was special to her. Very special. My heart swelled just knowing that she understood and felt in a way now unique in life. She knew and went forward no matter the words that came out of my mouth. She just... Knew. We spoke about the idea, as well, and once there was a glance from her beautiful eyes, I knew I had found someone very special and very rare. Now she is gone forever. Well, she’s been gone for a long fucking time, to be honest. So many years that sometimes I lose count. Much of the present difficulty is in knowing I never had to worry back then and I see and feel the fucking gradient every day. I am feeling it right now, in fact. The only problems which arose when we were together came from my past and had little to do with her loving nature. I think about her every day no matter what else may be going on, and eventually fall down because none of it can be repeated or replaced. None. I just have to sit here and fucking lump it. It’s time for housework and my friends in the background. I have to stop thinking about her. Actually, I’d like to stop thinking about everything. Such loss. 1030, straight down. Heh. Not funny. Why? Because nothing is really funny anymore. The daily routine is out of the way and I have some laundry running. So far, so good. Oh, and there is a fat glass of whiskey sitting to my left, naturally. More of the depressant for the depression. Laugh it up, motherfucks. Sunday morning with coffee. My mom used to have an album of songs entitled ‘Sunday Morning Coffee’, and that was right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow. Her music interest changed after we discovered the song on that fateful day at the electronics store. What a wonderful time. Anyway, I’ll be taking the drive to the city again this morning. There and back in a little over an hour, after which I can work on my usual stuff around the house. Yesterday I trimmed more of the tree in the front yard which leaves me freed up today for other garbage concerns. I have lots of thinking to do, as well. Always thinking. 1144. Part of my housework is finished and I have the next few hours to myself. Earlier this morning I changed the main font for the entire site from Conduit to Helvetica for reasons of good form. Also, I became irritated by the inconsistent vertical spacing of the previous choice. Now everything is cleaner and easier to read, the latter being the main fucking point of this entire endeavor. The likelihood of the font being changed again is nil. Sarah is so deluded that she seems to think everything will be alright if she maintains her wavering faith. She is such a goof, but still a prime example of adorable chiclets. I digress. Loss is the word of every day. Loss. Everything is gone. Monday. Coffee. Vampires. Yesterday was fine for a while and then it wasn’t. ‘Things are only impossible until they’re not.’ Well, I can’t agree with that one, Captain. The current situation is unalterable from my position in life. All I can do is try to enjoy what I can (while it is still available). Some of the time I spent in the garage yesterday was productive, as was a bit of the indoor stuff. Just beneath the surface of everything, however, is a mass of bad feelings, memories and the realization that the good is gone for all time. I go back and forth with that one, to be honest, because there are times when I feel alright enough to actually look ahead in life. Those confusing moments are few, though. No matter what mood I am in at a given time, right behind it is the knowledge that I cannot go anywhere. I dream each day about being elsewhere and how that may feel. None of this is helping me. There are chiclets on the screen right now. So cute. I may not have today to myself due to unforeseen circumstances. My time will progress nearly the same either way because I typically do what I need regardless of the lay of the land while home. I was thinking about the watch earlier this morning and recalled some years ago when I reached out to the manufacturer for a bit of information and hopefully photos. Well, I never received so much as an acknowledgement of my message. Nothing. Those snobby fuckswouldn’t even respond to tell me that they don’t have the time to deal with such requests. I would have understood completely, too. The truth is I didn’t expect anything beyond a short response telling me that nothing was available. Anyway, I know the club they are in and there is nothing I can do about it. The only way for me to get a response from them would be to actually seek and purchase one of the thirty watches they made and then try contacting them again. Nine-plus hundred thousand dollars? Really? I would. Many years ago I was in love with a particular model of car but nowhere near being able to afford one. All I did was look at them. Well, one sunny day my girl, myself and another friend paid a visit to the dealership in hopes of seeing the car up close. I was just off work and fairly unkempt, meaning the luxury car dealer might not be inclined to believe I had the means to make a purchase. A salesman approached me and I basically laid out the facts of the case: I wanted to see one of the cars in person. He asked if I was interested in making a deal, to which I replied, ‘Do I look like I can afford anything in this place?’ He laughed, stated that my honesty caught him completely off-guard, and then proceeded to lead the three of us into the receiving area of the dealership where two such models sat which had been unloaded just that morning. He told me not to touch, but I could stare to my heart’s content. Now THAT is some customer service. The watch people? I just don’t know, although the courtesy of a simple one-line reply could not have taken very much time out of anyone’s day. Just a thought. Oh, and on our way out of the building that day I told the car salesmen that if my circumstances were to change, I would not buy a car from anyone else. Why did I go into all that crap? Ugh. 1108. My daily routine is out of the way and I have a glass of whiskey for reasons of good form. Irish whiskey this time, too, because I’m out of the usual brand. Whatever. The increased alcohol content will probably yield a pasty mood, although I did toss in an extra ice cube. Too bad this stuff is more expensive because it is much smoother. Anyway, I was able to continue the saga of the doors this morning. My muse has returned – slightly – and for whatever reason. I really don’t know, but I will say that the subject matter is quite compelling at times. I noticed that my knife auction has topped three hundred after only a few days. This is very good for the financial situation. I’ll probably be at this machine for a while today because I need to keep the house nice and quiet. I don’t even have the video media running right now. That’s different. Most of the time I have a deep emotional need to have my friends in the background no matter what a given day may entail. Eh... Soon, perhaps. For the time being I am going to enjoy the atmosphere in the office.
Maybe in a little while I’ll be tipsy enough to heat a pizza. Heh. Not funny. I never had any desire to see Bailey’s bare breasts, yet there they were in high definition on the fucking display. Thanks, assholes. She is far too precious to be unclothed on screen. I’d rather see her standing with feet together in a pair of low-rise, ‘skinny’ jeans just like someone else in recent memory. Bailey is a person and an actor, and as such can do whatever she pleases or desires. I don’t want to see her skin, though. Call me crazy, but even after five-plus seasons of this series and a plethora of nude people, I need to see her without clothing like I need another fucking hole in my head. I’ve never wanted to see Willa nude, either. Nope. Not a bit. The mystery and wonder of such form are too beautiful to be ruined by society. Thankfully, the most stunning female actors within this program never agreed to do nude scenes. I’m glad. Yes, I realize I’ve included imagery that goes far beyond what you may see during the entirety of the vampire series, but they are of models who agreed – via contract – to pose as they have. And despite my rampant desire to slather any number of gorgeous women (to whom I allude quite often), some are in my heart and will remain as such for all time. There is nothing wrong with physical desire, either. It’s natural. That is not an excuse, but the prime reason for much of what I write as it relates to the more beautiful sex. Ugh... That’s just too fucking much shit. Forgive me. I am a broken person with zero outlook, hope or ambition. Sometimes the pain gets to me in a way I can only express through references to beauty because it is directly related to the difficulty I experience every single day, and for many years. There were those situations in which I actually found what I sought, yet none of them lived terribly long. Now I don’t see anything of the like taking place in the future because I am far too broken. I appreciate much, yet experience none of it. I see and then I fall down. I do not EVER recover. The positive is that none of the actors or models – the real people – I’ve mentioned can know me in the slightest. Big positive. 1234. The time reminds me of the amazing time and date which occurred during the glow... 12:34:56 on 7/8/90. Do you remember the sequence? One second that stood out for all time, and it came to pass during the most beautiful period in memory. Well, the sequence occurred twice that day due to AM versus PM. I need more accurate information as to my work history during the glow. I need to know the dates of when I held those jobs. Don’t ask why, either. I just need to know. Call the effort ‘painting a picture’, if you must. That was quite literally the brightest time of my life. Believe it. And now here I sit on Tuesday after a fairly decent evening. This morning? Indecent is the word. I can already feel the day crumbling above my head as if it is bent upon my destruction with a shower of particles that can slice my brain to pieces. 1145. I just went through an hour of issues after trying to print one ten-page document that needs to be included with the knife after it sells. Unbelievable. There are self-driving cars all over San Francisco – many which I have seen up close and in person – that have very few issues, yet in this day and age I can’t use a new printer for one fucking document without jumping through hoops. I even threatened to toss the fucking thing into the ocean (which is a half mile down the street). I may never understand why an inkjet printer’s functioning goes all to hell when it is new and hooked up properly. I just don’t get it. Anyway, all my stuff is finished for the morning and I have hours ahead for whatever seems best. My neighbor stopped by a while ago for a morning cocktail but had to leave mid-conversation due to a business call. That’s fine. Putting up the wall and ‘making nice’ with people is very difficult sometimes and whenever the process comes to an end I am much more comfortable. I will say that the printer problems effectively derailed a situation which has been growing in importance for the last year or more, and the issue this morning was one of the worst in memory. The Goddamned current period is now worse than mere hours ago. I have no recourse whatsoever. One positive is that the water is on and I blew the air from the system. Everything is back to normal. I miss Ashley so much right now that I could die in the backyard without blinking an eye. Her mindset has been unequaled in this life. Maybe that whole year was nothing more than a dream. Well, such thoughts don’t matter because apparently my feelings follow suit. One of two possibilities will come to pass very soon. Either I will lash out without an actual ending, or shut down enough to cause those who know me to become concerned. I really don’t care which. Wednesday is here on the heels of a very strange evening and night. As for the daytime hours yesterday, something took place which initially caused tons of anger and then changed to rampant sadness and a huge lack of understanding. There is one factor – I cannot and will not go into detail – of which I am aware and have been for some years, but the truth of the matter is I’ve been affected too much to simply relax about the fucking problem and accept the way I am. Nope. That is just not going to happen because I already know of far too many causes. Anyway... This day will be what I make of it (as they all should), meaning I’ll have to take care of the usual housework and take a trip to the wine store to pick up an order. We need those staples for comfort. The early business is out of the way and I have some time to continue going through older images while I sip this mediocre coffee. Heh. I have thousands of images dating back to my first smartphone and some of them are completely unnecessary anymore. God damn does Jessica have some beautiful eyes. Doesn’t matter. Pause. 1120. I am back from the big wine store and the daily routine is finished. Bailey’s chiclets are again very apparent. Ugh. Whatever. As I mentioned earlier, I have hours to myself which will probably entail some detailed thinking and organization both in the office and on this machine. I need to French kiss that girl’s labia so badly that sometimes I can’t function. Shut up. I don’t need to be judged because this is what I’ve become as a result of time and circumstance. What was I saying? Ah... Today. After the strange dreams early this morning coupled with the shit situation from yesterday, my intention is to attempt to understand why my brain has been operating in such a fashion. The fucked up aspect from yesterday has been exacerbated by the past and is beginning to lead the little enjoyments right off a fucking cliff. This is not good. Holy God... Her fucking legs again. Shit. Stop it, idiot. I have to find a way to harness a bit of strength and move along through the day without completely losing my shit for the last time. If that happens, some possible good of the future could be lost and I don’t want to lose any more of my life. There is little hope, honestly, yet the sliver which has remained must be enough to keep my head above water. The last several weeks have shown me that ambition is a much taller order than in years passed, and finding the will to actually rise and deal with even the smallest issue has become nearly impossible. Maybe after a snack I’ll head to the garage, blast some quality music, and proceed to do more tree trimming. Improvement of the tree always helps my mental state for some reason. Right now, I just don’t know. A human being does not become so desperate to experience specific, elusive aspects of life without being disregarded for a very long time. As I’ve said before, this type of desperation is very dangerous and can lead to more disastrous consequences than the world’s past preludes to war. If you don’t believe me, a demonstration can be arranged. No one wants that. Just trust my words. This is a very bad time. The minuscule upside right now is the fact that I have replenished the liquor supply, nothing more. Thus far, I’ve been intelligent enough to know when the line is close, meaning I can control my intake in order to maintain a general quality of life here in this little house. Make no mistake, however... The bad things are ever-looming. The time is now 1525 and I believe my efforts on this day are finished. I probably won’t even make a salad to go with the leftovers for tonight. I just can’t get myself to care because trimming the tree earlier really knocked me on my ass. That type of work takes it out of me more than anything else. The more I trim the lower growth, the higher everything else remains, so I end up in the tree with a pole saw and cutting manually over my head by ten feet or more. I don’t think there is much more I can do without employing professionals. Unfortunately, their work is just too expensive. My intention is to eliminate as much interior growth as possible to ease the stress on the larger branches during high winds and storms. The tree is going to be seventy years old next summer and can use some help. Well, I guess I won’t try to work on it any further until the weekend. Maybe tomorrow if I feel ok.
Today is already better than yesterday and the time is only 0818. The trip to the big wine store really weighed on my head a day ago – which is a clear indication that I am further out of balance than I had already thought – and upon returning felt much less stress. Today I don’t need to go anywhere unless I decide to be proactive and head to the market later this morning. Or not. Fuck it. I’m going to remain home all day. 1048 is the time, and the morning has been completely disastrous. I was doing fine for a while, but just before I decided to take care of the daily routine, feelings struck me which quickly took over my entire consciousness and left me flailing in the wind. Now I am more lost than I was earlier, hence remaining in the house all day. On the upside, the knife auction has surpassed the original purchase price and will serve to help with the finances even more than I had hoped. I’ll be listing another auction in a little while, that of a mechanical wristwatch that has lost its importance over the last few years. Going further, I’ll have to do some research on what else may be valuable enough to put on the chopping block, as it were. After yesterday’s exhaustion from tree trimming and other chores, the plan for today was relaxation combined with a bit of organization. So far, I’ve only accomplished the minimum. Until I decide otherwise, the status quo shall be sitting at the control center to ponder everything. We had a bit of a meeting last night in the garage, during which I tried to explain a few aspects of mobile audio electronics. Well, that went halfway south because the parameters involved can be difficult to grasp for some. In the end, however, I believe the greater good was served by way of at least a slight increase in understanding. I suppose that’s better than nothing. I’ve been fluent in such a vein for decades, so all of it is literally second nature after all these years. Even when someone else doesn’t understand the complexity as I am attempting to explain, the effort is typically for naught because to me, the simple terms are not simple to some. A vat of wondrous beauty went gliding by earlier. Damn. 1516 is the time. I finished everything I set out to do today. The remaining hours are not going to find me very productive at all. I’m currently sitting in the new office with literally nothing to say. I don’t even know why I came here in the first place except to finish the dry cleaning and stare at the tree for a few minutes for a game plan. The radio is playing quietly in the background and the fog recently flowed across the flatland and is cooling the otherwise warm temperature. One might think I’m fairly comfortable out here, but nothing inside is working very well this afternoon. My head blew wide open earlier and there is just no fixing it. Well, maybe the passage of time can help, but I always know at some point the same shit will happen. I’m fucking sick of it. I really should not be seeking images of Cindy for the site. Seeing her face causes all sorts of problems. There might be a few lines in there, too, but I can’t go into such a topic right now. I am already all fucked up due to yesterday’s fall from on high. Still reeling, honestly. I can’t fucking do anything about this shit and the frustration is driving me to think in very reckless terms. This is not good. When I see those images of Cindy’s extraordinary lines – most notably when combined with her very unique face – my mind returns to the days of yore when I was right where I needed to be, albeit those situations were nothing more than temporary illusions. I knew it and dove anyway. My thinking during those short periods was such that I accepted the pitfalls and felt they were offset by sheer bliss. Everything would come to a crashing halt and I didn’t fucking care. A part of me was continually aware that I had to embrace whatever I needed because reality just couldn’t cut the mustard at all. I feel the same way right now, yet without any decent resources, I am stuck right here in this damned chair. All I have are words. The images may be hurting me, but I need to see them as much as I need to draw breath. Cindy shall remain, along with a few others. I don’t know what the fuck else to do anymore. 0913. I’ll have to do my housework soon and get away from this shit. The gardeners are here so I had to close the garage doors. I will get into the work once they are gone. The clock has advanced to 1102 and all is not well. The daily routine is finished and I have laundry in the washer, meaning one might believe that my day is going well. Nope... Quite the reverse, and that despite the fact that I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey here on the table. If I state that I ‘need’ it, is that a bad thing? Probably. The truth is that the routine of a cocktail and my typical housework has become a cemented lifestyle. There is nothing I can do about it in the short term. I need the comfort inherent in a very controlled atmosphere, and that includes the alcohol. The drink is a small positive floating with the tide of a sea of negatives. I have no intention of altering the way I live through the days. The yoga scene from S7.E3 drives me up the fucking wall every Goddamned time. I can’t help it after years of being so desperate for the most elusive and beautiful aspects of this life. Shut up. I have to see beauty even though it is not real. Why? Because reality is a scourge anymore. Just... Shut up. I need it. As for the rest of the day, I’ll finish off the laundry and try to consider options other than just sitting on my ass. I am doing my best to avoid this day from becoming like the last. The process is not easy by any means. And there is a different French girl on the screen right now. Not the one from the gangster series, but another. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Never mind. I am not meant to be happy. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, the woman is five-nine. I didn’t know until this moment that she was so tall. Fuel on the fire, and if you thought the height fetish faded, make no fucking mistake. She kind of looks like a combination of the great Sophia Loren and Penelope Cruz. Wow. I would have a hell of a time trying to decide between her lips and labia. Shut up. I am a basket case after all this time, and considering the first occasion of me broaching such a topic took place exactly six years ago, you should be happy that my words are not more pointed. And? When this series was being filmed, low-rise jeans were still the norm. I wish the standard had not changed because a super-high waistline is fucking hideous and hides one of the best features of a woman’s body. The world is so fucking stupid. The idea that I do not understand the ways of the world is not very surprising, though, because my head has become more and more skewed over the years as a result of all of the damage, routing, and squishing I’ve endured. If you don’t believe me, you should be reading some other site. I am not in the custom of exaggerating anything, assholes. This is what I have become. Period. Chiclets again. The fucking story of the doors will continue. I swear it will. Leave me the hell alone. Thank Christ I ordered more booze the other day and restocked the bar. I need it. Perhaps the desire to numb my senses at an early hour would not have come to fruition had I never known of the beautiful Ashley. Her mindset changed everything. So sad. Like all the others, she is gone forever. Give me one wish, please. The finale of the third show kills me every time it rolls around in the rotation. Tears. I love those people more than I could ever put into words. Just... Believe me, please. I love them and will until the end of me. Later? On to the fourth show. The rotation is three, four, two, five, and then one. Figure it out. 1611. The tree again. I trimmed a few annoying limbs a while ago, just enough to top off the organics cart after the gardeners tossed the green waste into it this morning. I can’t go further because everything is very high – some of the upper, inner growth may be reachable from the ladder – and I don’t want a bunch of trimmings laying in the yard. I’ll try to continue next week. Moreover, the weather is still very warm, so anything physical takes more of a toll than during the cool days. Ugh. Once again, I am in the garage thanks to a nice breeze coming from the back door. The only thing I can do prior to dinner is spin my figurative wheels. My energy has been depleted. I don’t even know how long I can sit here at the bench because it’s nowhere near as comfortable as the office. Oh, well. I’ll do what I can. Disillusionment is ok in small doses. Larger quantities? Every fucking day? Not good.
I’ve been seeing different people walking dogs, strolling in the sunshine, and riding bicycles since I ventured outside to work on the tree. A couple of them were rather interesting and forced me to consider that sitting out here on sunny days may not be the best idea for my weakened condition. Regardless, I glanced. I always make an effort to see if something rare is walking past my door. This is what I’ve become. Shoot me in the face. I don’t care. I need to fucking see. Oh, fuck... I just saw something wondrous and stirring. Damn. This shit just will not let up, ever. Splendid. Well, I would have seen that last beauty regardless of being in the garage or office. She was just too fucking close. As I said, I need to see. I am going to try to avoid going into an angry tirade regarding the last time I received a blast of shit from someone because I am constantly searching. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. Have I mentioned that lately? Ugh. I don’t feel well. The most likely combination is alcohol and depression with a touch of ‘out of shape’ thrown in for good measure. The evening should prove rewarding, including dinner preparations. At least I’ll have my friends in the background while working in the kitchen. They never cause problems, nor would they judge me for what I’ve become. I love them. I’ll have the requisite cooking cocktail and the television on. That’s one of my favorite parts of the day, believe it or not. I used to say that the morning kitchen work and dinner preparations were the two most rewarding parts of a typical day. The fact has not changed. Something pretty fucking unreal would have to transpire in order for my feelings toward life to change. Feeling the way I do this afternoon is most likely tied to all that has been lost, as well. The evening was ok after all of that concerning thought yesterday. I made it to another Saturday morning. Coffee and vampires. In about half an hour I’ll be taking the typical morning drive into the City for a quick stop, and then back to town for some shopping at the big market. The drive is typically without issues, but I will be overjoyed to return home later this morning. Pause. 1050. Everything is finished, including a trip to the market on the way home a little while ago. Unfortunately, the drive entailed a bit of a scrape a la a brush fire on the side of the highway. There was a slight delay, after which the flow of traffic improved markedly. The drive home was much quicker. Now that most everything is out of the way for the morning, I have time to relax on the sofa with this machine and enjoy a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. The weather is very warm and humid again. Hopefully, the onshore flow will take over during the afternoon and cool the house like yesterday. If not, I’ll probably be spending the afternoon and early evening in the garage. As long as the current breeze holds up, the temperature inside the house should be fine. Also, I have the flags out to honor the birthday of Norway’s crown princess. Displaying the Norwegian flag during certain holidays has become important to me because of the ‘forest’ mindset, which continues to elude me. Whatever. The American flag is always on its own right due to the federal flag code. She is beautiful, by the way. Yeah... Like you didn’t think I was aware. Shut up. Anyway, the rest of the day is under my full control and may entail a variety of tasks, or not much at all. For the time being, I have to stay off my feet after such a busy morning. I’ll sit with this endeavor until something else comes to mind. Thankfully, there was nothing of note during the drive through the City. Sometimes I fear what may be visible from the car. Yes, I said fear. The time is now 1401 and I am worn the hell out. I made a marinade for tomorrow’s roast for grilling, made another marinade for some chicken satay this evening, and went so far as to mix and simmer the sauce for tonight. It’s cooling on the stove. Once all that crap was finished, I proceeded to clean the kitchen for a second time so everything is in order for dinner. Whew! Now I have hours to myself, meaning I’ll probably sit here with my show in the background for a while and then look in other directions. Conversely, I may not do much at all after such a busy morning. And here comes the French brunette. Splendid. Slender and gorgeous, that one. She partially represents the rarity of what I call dark beauty. Oh, shit. She isn’t French. Well, in any case, the woman is stunning and alluring. I’d give much in exchange for the opportunity to demonstrate my appreciation for such beauty by snatching her off the screen and whisking us away from everyday life and into the goblet for a few days of excessive living. Damn... If only. Believe me, I know of the process intimately. I have detailed files. Aside from my dreamy repartee, if the breeze outside holds up for a while and the fog continues to creep in my direction, the evening may prove to be a bit cooler than yesterday. I could use a break from warm weather. This may sound odd, but I didn’t wait three decades to live near the ocean to then come here and experience weeks of warm sun during the summer and fall. I just keep seeing shit over and over and over, yet inside me nothing seems to improve. I was just in the garage to break down some boxes and have a cigarette, and right across the street – and then directly before my open garage door – was one of those sights that was spawned by the damaging dreams last year and my subsequent difficulty at the fucking festival in September. My head cannot fucking stop creating situation s in which I benefit from such visions, either. The feelings are fucking constant and my condition continues to degrade no matter the little enjoyments or projects. The two daily periods to which I keep holding tight are working in the kitchen in the morning and then preparing dinner in each evening. The latter will be taking place some time during the next hour or so, yet inside me is the expectation that at some point none of it will be enough to keep me afloat. Part of me knows how those dreams came about and why I feel so strongly toward the subject, as well as a few others that have crossed my vision. The trouble within my head and heart is beginning to force my hand in the worst way, and is the sole reason for these stupid interruptions during an otherwise very interesting story. I have gone to great lengths in the past trying to come to terms with what I have become after all these years and the reasoning behind the same. Still, when I see something that causes a mental speed bump in my day, everything goes to hell and I can’t seem to envision the narrative. I consider the way my head becomes so fucking weakened during most mornings, too. All of it adds up to the idea that the final solution from the cave period should have been applied. Much turmoil and heartache could have been avoided. This means ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, as it were. I made my decision back then and now suffer the consequences. I need an inter-fucking-vention but will resist such an event to my very core. What else can I do but keep looking and typing, all the while hoping that the next little enjoyment does the trick? Nothing. Is this where I should be right now? Tell me. Thank Christ I am an alcoholic or my brain would be intractable. I am still sitting here. One of those questions calls to the fucking hocus pocus mumbo jumbo voodoo bullshit against which I have been grating for decades. I should not be asking any questions, ever. Yes, I am angry. But that is not to say that I believe another person deserves to be on the receiving end of my mood. Part of the reason I am so fucked up these days is that there is no outlet whatsoever for the pain and anger. Everything is bottled and compressed as if I am living on the floor of the Mariana Trench. Pressure; thrice. This is a bad time. My anger solves nothing. So, here I sit on the sofa during another lost Sunday morning. Laptop, cocktail, fourth series. Splendid. The drive this morning was anything but uneventful; I couldn’t even get to the highway without seeing something special, and on the heels of those first two forms was a six-foot woman jogging and appearing like a fucking runway model, all slender yet curvy. Yep, all the shit for which I have constantly searched was present from her head to toes. Everything, including facial beauty and the long, tapered neck of a gazelle. I really didn’t need that crap, although I am partially to blame because the quest never ends. I know I am looking around in the hopes of seeing a unique form. I know all of it. There was nothing of note in the City because we were in and out quickly and at an early hour, thank the maker. I don’t need to see anything else. Yesterday was more than enough to destroy my sense of need. This is so fucked up that I struggle to find the words. Anyway...
Sunday means housework and garbage business. The time is 1024 and I already have the routine finished as well as a head start on the trash. My organics cart is almost to the lid, so there will be no tree trimming today. I have a few items that I’d like to fit into the residual cart, so I’ll have to venture into the garage in a little while and take care of some business. I am hoping the work today can help alleviate the massive desire looming just behind my every thought. I can’t have a period of uselessness on a fucking Sunday regardless of whatever may be affecting me. This is a very bad time, but whatever difficulty may have me on the edge of a horrible precipice, I have responsibilities. Without this routine and my weekly chores, the living situation would be radically different right now. That is not to say that I am ‘earning my keep’, either. The statement means my funeral would have come and gone long ago. I am still hanging on, but not by much. Take that as you wish. Thank Christ I have free reign when it comes to stocking the bar. Directly behind my stare for the rest of the day will be everything I saw yesterday coupled with feelings which can never be alleviated. Wonderful. I have no recourse, nor do the ears exist. More will occur, too, meaning the cumulative effect of what has already transpired is going to weigh more and more on my mind. Today is a prime example of when I see the destination of everything finally coming to a head. Not good. I’ll have to do my best to remain busy until the reward of the evening comes along. For reasons of good form, I’ll be waiting until the morning cocktail is consumed before moving in any other direction. I am very sad right now. Hopefully, such deep sadness will not change to anger. The batteries in this machine are mostly depleted. I’ll have to move to the office soon. Tuesday morning, 1008 is what I see on the clock, and I already have the daily routine finished. There is a nice glass of depressant sitting here on the table. Both cars are in the driveway even though she is at work. Yesterday there was a fucking whack job in the alley behind her grandmother’s apartment building who proceeded to vandalize anything involving the color blue, including her car. The windshield was hit with a piece of metal, meaning the car had to be towed back here. The operation ran pretty damned late, too. I have the Safelite people scheduled to come tomorrow morning to replace the glass. After the work is completed, I need to vacuum the interior because the pieces went all over the place. I am not going to clean prior to the windshield being replaced, either. More glass is going to fall into the car. She is going to have to drive my car to work as a result of all this shit. That’s fine. I drove her to work today and will be returning south during the afternoon just like I did at the beginning of the pandemic. The memories flowed through my brain as I drove, and naturally there were all sorts of forms in that shopping center. I am not surprised at all. The second drive will probably be similar. Ugh. Her dad is going to visit in a few hours to pick up some items, but other than that, I am going to take it easy for the remainder of my time at home. The weather is very unsettled due to the massive tropical storm crossing southern California. The humidity is up, the clouds are fascinating, and there is a nice breeze going through the house. All the more comfortable for yours truly. Those visions from this morning were much like the difficult shit that was close by two days ago. There was another yesterday afternoon but I can’t really talk about it. All this crap is driving me up the fucking wall, too. As I said earlier, I just keep seeing and seeing and seeing, the inside of me worsening with each occurrence. Nothing ever comes of my feelings, either, and the result is my mental stability dropping a little notch with each passing hour. The housework pushes it away, as does some of the media I watch, yet overall there is a cumulative effect of being so bottled up combined with more desperate desire than I have ever felt in my life. Downward seems to be the only trajectory that exists for me anymore. Little events, such as the race in July or the idea of attending the big car shows at the fairgrounds used to push me out of the din for a time, but anymore those enjoyable occasions no longer have the power to lift me for more than a few moments at a time. The fall is always right on the heels of whatever I try to do. The only aspect of the current period that keeps my head above water is the fact that I know we will be ok in this little house. I am speaking almost exclusively of life’s necessities. I have to remain mindful that there are millions without such stability. I have to appreciate every single moment of each day because they could come to a crashing halt given the proper circumstances, rather like a city in the southern half of the state that was experiencing damage from the storm, only to be hit with a decent-sized earthquake right in the fucking middle of it all. I don’t wish that shit upon anyone. So, sitting here as I am right now with a view out the window, some HD media streaming on the right-hand display and a nice cocktail must be considered good fortune above all the other shit. The inside of my head may be completely fucked up, but there is a roof, food and warmth aplenty. I always think that I could be mentally and emotionally screwed up and living under a bridge somewhere, the image eventually forcing me to appreciate where I reside. 1032. Part of me is overjoyed to be sitting in this chair right now. There are chiclets on the screen again. She is so fucking cute sometimes. I’d love to... Never mind. Wow is the wind ever strong right now. Violet has one hell of a nose. Just a thought. I am so looking forward to this evening being much more comfortable and peaceful than yesterday. The car issue ran pretty late, but I still grilled the roast and it came out very good. Once I return from the afternoon drive, I am hoping nothing dramatic takes place to interrupt what is typically one of the best parts of the day... Dinner and something on the television. Last night I was in the garage with my neighbor until the tow truck arrived, and then a while longer once the car was parked safely in the driveway. Tonight should be much more relaxing. I hope, anyway. And I really don’t need to see those beautiful bouncing breasts again because each sighting sends my head back in time to the first of the three damaging dreams. Yep, those again. As much as I need to see her, I also need to avoid any further detriment to my psyche. I am planning to utilize the leftover beef in some dish and then cook the corn. Steak and corn is a wonderful combination, although I may add the yummy kale salad tonight. I’ll give you a breakdown: kale (stripped from the stems), sunflower sprouts, three different seeds (sesame, sunflower and pumpkin), and red onion tossed in a light dressing. The ingredients for the dressing are fresh lemon juice, liquid aminos (like soy sauce) and olive oil of the EV variety. There is also a bit of fresh garlic thrown into the dressing shaker for good form. The salad is dressed a couple of hours prior to dinner so that the oil has a chance to soften the kale a bit. The combination is dreamy, to be honest. We were buying the pre-made salad, but after looking over the ingredients, I realized I could make several salads over a period of days for less money. Moreover, I can adjust the individual parts in order to tweak the flavor to our liking. I have to say it is one of the most unique salads I’ve ever had. The wind seems to be increasing in strength as I type these words. Wow. The storm has had an unreal effect upon the climate here in the northern half of the state. There is Jessica again. I wish I could plant my lips to her delicate labia for six fucking months. Damn. Nope. And? Shut up. Imagine me including a salad recipe on the site. Heh. Violet just donned clothing I can’t describe and proceeded to do something that has caused me more mental and physical pain than anything else in the world, and believe me when I say that she looked amazing in that outfit. Nothing good is in my future, the aforementioned living situation notwithstanding. I can be fairly comfortable while remaining miserable. Tuesday morning, early. My memories of a dream this morning are fading fast and I need them to remain inside me. I still can’t believe who I was with during the dream. Right next to me. I think she was my sister, or at least a very close friend. There were others, too... Three or four, and I was trying to avoid staring as they approached me to walk through the house and head to the pool. Bikinis, all of them. Between where I was standing and the others, there was one woman trying to reason with me about something, eventually leading us to the dining room (or whatever it was) for a discussion across the table that seemed very important. The face I saw before me was that of Jamie from the sixth season, all slender and huge eyes apparent, and the one next to her was unknown to me. They were trying to reason with me about something, but I can’ remember now. Eventually I broke down and laid on the floor out of exhaustion. Afterward, Jamie felt bad for me and laid next to me for comfort. The other woman disappeared. Outside the back window were three girls frolicking in the pool. I was very upset, too. She held me, just as I’ve dreamed for years. She somehow knew exactly what I needed to feel better. Within minutes, her arms were around me and my face was nuzzled into her neck. This is very painful.
0754. I successfully switched all of the necessary items between the cars, got her off to work in mine, and then turned the other car around to ease the work on the windshield today. Ugh. These are all positives and I am generally proud of myself for handling the details of life ALL THE FUCKING TIME, yet the dream from earlier combined with my normal feelings of loss during the mornings are pushing me down, hard. It’s bad enough to see her big, beautiful eyes looking into mine with emotion, but worse when she is right next to me and then torn away. The woman loved me; I could feel it all the way through my being, and to lose that after needing her for many years is not going to do me any good. My condition is worsening every day. Right now I am so fucking discouraged that nothing matters. I tend to dwell upon anything that feels good (all of it being complete fiction, of course), and then my subconscious creates the dreams out of sheer desperation. The damaging dreams were bad enough. This morning was the third time Jamie and I were together and the result of awakening from such bliss is very painful. My needs have gone all the way off the deep end. All the fucking way, for sure. Today is not going to amount to much. I already don’t give a shit. I need her more than ever and she doesn’t exist. Marvelous. I may as well wish to fly to the fucking moon with my own wings. This is a very bad situation. Seeing those bikinis – I am familiar with one of the girls – was plenty to fill my head with shit for days. Adding Jamie to the pile will not help me, nor will it be good for anyone else that must deal with my personality directly. As I said before, there are no more ‘ups’, only a steady stream of ‘downs’. I think Sarah has the most prominent chiclets. Just a thought. Her sister is far from happy right now, though. Amber doesn’t give a blue fuck about Sarah’s teeth. Heh. And the beautiful Cindy all down this entry doesn’t care about what I need her to allow. Ugh. That one isn’t funny in the least. I am waiting for the technician that is going to replace the windshield. I have to remain on-call for the time being, so I’ll go through the daily motions until work begins. I can’t seem to get the image of those three swimsuits out of my head this morning and the subsequent daydreaming is attempting to put the kibosh to any clear thinking. Damn it, anyway. They were beautiful, but the kicker was knowing Jamie was going to make everything ok. I hate feeling this way. My routine will begin once the coffee is gone and all that shit from the dream this morning will likely follow along like a shadow bent upon my destruction. Considering how fragile and sensitive I have become throughout the last three-plus years, I am surprised to be sitting here typing. My stomach is a touch out of sorts, too. The feeling will probably go away once the windshield replacement is underway. Anything outside my normal weekday activities causes me to be uncomfortable; today is no different. It’ll pass soon enough. I hope, anyway. I don’t need anything else to chew on my insides these days. 0907 is the time on my little clock. I’ll begin the housework in a little bit, perhaps after the coffee. My head is sideways this morning, but not in typical fashion. I am feeling more lonely than anything else, meaning the daily desperate desire is not present right now, only the realization of so much loss over the years. Moreover, seeing one girl in particular within my dream is dredging memories of those from last year that began one of the most damaging situations of my entire life, and something I was not prepared to consider. I am still unprepared, in fact, and the more references that come along, the worse I feel. Later. My daily routine is finished and the technician is here working on the windshield replacement. The task should be complete within an hour or so. In the meantime, my plan is to remain here at the control center and sip my drink. The dream from early this morning has not left my head for a fucking second. I can’t stop seeing Jamie’s eyes right in front of my face. She was so sweet and understanding, forcing memories of Ashley caring for me while I tried to care for her. I need it so bad right now that I just might go insane. As for the three girls clad in bikinis and heading for the pool, they represent last year’s confusion and are driving me to drink. Close, but a billion fucking miles away. Everything is far away right now. The keyboard pays no mind. One more time for posterity, this is no way to live. What the hell can I do? Answer me. No one home. These feelings are very dangerous, and even more so due to my lack of resources or options. I am stuck here... Mired. Moreover, the further into the future I gaze sometimes, the less happiness I see. Fewer options, as well. I’ve seen myself become increasingly sensitive and closed off throughout the last few years, and attached to both of those is knowledge of my mind rejecting convention and embracing more of what is unreal. I have been forced to hold my tongue during conversations with other people, too. I’ve noticed more and more of that as time passes, actually. When it comes to matters of emotion or desire, my brain immediately shuts all doors when the topics are gleaned by those with whom I am in contact. The problem is only in person, to be honest, because I have complete control over electronic information. I often think of my mobile phone much like a pager from many years ago, in that others do not know if I have read or acknowledged a message or call. Most of the time I don’t even care when it makes noise. Bigger fish, and all that shit. For reasons of good form, I do try to communicate with a few individuals. They are close and though I am all fucked up inside, no one is aware. I have to keep it that way. The idea of remaining quiet when speaking with others in person has become increasingly difficult, as well. I am fucking desperate for the correct type of attention. And speaking along such lines, there is Bridget and her never-ending slew of amazing features. What I wouldn’t fucking give, I tell you. Everything in the world. No one knows... ‘Status quo is the only way to go’, as it were. Mouth closed. You can thank me later. 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Wait a minute... Did that paragraph reference the French girl? Someone else? A dream? Reality? I don't fucking know. Just fill in whatever the fuck you want and then condemn me for such wording. I don't care and have zero to lose. Come here and slice my neck open. Do everyone a favor. I’m going to lose my fucking mind over this shit. Last year’s dreams were bad enough, but to have everything exacerbated by more skin and less sense right when I am falling off a cliff is not going to help matters in the least. I’ve already seen far too much to simply let the visions fall away from my consciousness, as well. Way too fucking much. And then the dream? A fucking bikini? I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, damn it. The inside of my head is a wasteland of weakness and desperation, and then the fucking world sends me more information seeminly to help push me over the edge. I already wanted her enough. I didn’t need anything else to increase the desire.
Maybe this won’t be the last intermission. The story of the doors feels so far away right now that I can’t even begin to imagine a continuation with a measure of sense or coherence. Any effort in such a vein would likely be nothing more than a huge mess. I can’t have that, so everything remains off the burner until such time as I can think straight (not likely). Live with it. Just now a very powerful helicopter flew overhead and the sound was so loud I thought it might be attempting to land on my driveway. Geez. I love the sound, though. Really cool. I’ve been fascinated by aircraft ever since my grandfather took me flying for the first time. Well, maybe not that far back. I recall being told that we flew to Disneyland when I was two years old and I can’t remember the actual flight, but it happened. At least the point of how long I’ve been involved with aviation is clear. Whatever. It’s a long fucking time. Nearly my entire family is gone. My head is all over the place today. Big surprise. I feel like destroying something. Contrarily, sometimes when my head is this bad, I simply want to fuck Sarah’s brains right out of her pretty head. The feeling is rare, she is not real, and my words have most likely been influenced by a decidedly overpowering lack of caring. This day is going nowhere. Thank Christ the car has been repaired. 1334. Laundry is underway and the dry cleaning is finished. I don’t know what else to do, though. My head is so fucking sideways that righting it may never be possible, or at least so difficult that thinking straight will become more elusive than everything else I need. Holy fuck is Bridget ever a study in form. Jesus. Anyway, since this day has been both productive and completely disastrous, I figure once the laundry is finished I will be the same. Finished. Dinner is going to be pretty simple, too. All I have to do is make the salad I’ve mentioned and give it time to meld in the refrigerator. The rest won’t take much time. I just hope the evening is relaxing. This entry is going nowhere and hasn’t for days. Here I am talking about housework and dinner again. What a maroon. I guess I’m capable of much less than in the past. Wednesday is here. 0805. I missed something. There was a bit, but not nearly enough. I made the decision to try to remain unconcerned, yet afterward I realized such a stance is just not possible for me any longer. Now I am feeling as if I lost something that could have been special, and the idea that I can never know for sure is a large part of the problem. My brain cannot calculate avoidance of anything that appears to be along the lines of the lines, if that makes sense. A form near to my obsession will dictate my actions and thoughts for a while and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. I missed something this morning and it hurts. I really don’t like missed opportunities, either. The fact is that no matter how much I try to rationalize the idea of staring or the reverse action of looking away until I know the coast is clear, neither really helps. I can tell myself that it’s ‘ok’ to miss out. Inside is another story. The former is a flat lie, and that is not a joke. This morning is no different than any other opportunity throughout the last year-plus, and I feel like shit. I’ve seen far too much, yet at the same time nothing is ever enough. This is no way to live. I have coffee and the usual atmosphere in the office for the time being, after which I’ll take care of the routine and then a trip to a couple of stores for some staples. I’ll be happy to arrive back home so the daily comfort will be available. This is actually the first day in four which will be fairly normal after all of the car business and such. I’ll have to look outside the typical housework and see what can be improved. If I feel like it, that is. Right now I don’t know how the remainder of the day will progress. Everything I need is gone or otherwise not possible. I wish I didn’t know what I know. 1001. My daily stuff is finished and I have a little time before heading out to do a bit of shopping. Naturally, there is a big glass of whiskey sitting on the table. My little leather knife case arrived from Florida and it’s really cool. Now my prized (very rare) 58mm SAK is well-protected. Nice. I may get another one for the daily-use knife. As for this morning, my head is all fucked up due to yesterday’s failure and subsequent self-loathing. I don’t like this and must work to prevent such occurrences in the future. If I can feel even a smidgen better, the effort will prove worthwhile. I really don’t like feeling this way but it is partly my own fucking fault. Whatever. I am a person, and as such, subject to mistakes and self-induced pitfalls in life. That is not an excuse, either. It is merely a reason. Onward. I honestly need to be half in the fucking bag in order to go shopping, just in case. One more time for reasons of good form... This is no way to live. I still don’t know about the story of the doors. Earlier today I speculated that some of it was beginning to hit home a bit too much and that was the reason for the delay, but right now I just don’t know. Being creative is not easy at all. The au pair just climbed into her truck, complete with gyrating cheeks and lines on display. Wonderful. I really didn’t need that, but as I said before, nothing in the universe has enough power to stop me from looking. Where was I? Ah... The story. Part of the difficulty is knowing I’ve put lots of information to the screen, pulled it from the site at a later time, and then regretted publishing in the first place. I have said many times that sharing anything personal is far too risky for my peace of mind. The reason is once I let loose the words, I cannot get them back, nor can I exercise control over where the information goes afterward. There is a catharsis, however, yet I still don’t know if the realization is worthwhile. This line of thinking is further supported by a line of dialog from the great Eric Northman: ‘I’ve tried trusting; I’ve tried sharing... And it’s just not fuckin’ workin’ for me.’ I love it. Most days when I sit at this machine and type my thoughts and relate fiction to reality, the idea that I am opening myself up to criticism and backlash swirls through my head almost constantly. I’ve been there. I’ve shared in person, believe it or not, and to this very fucking second, I still regret the fact. It’s bad, damn it, and there is nothing I can do about it. Speaking with another person or knowing that what I’ve published requires trust that the information will not be further shared, abused, or ridiculed, and trusting is pretty damned low on my list of abilities, especially now. To put an even finer point on this shit, I do not trust another soul on earth anymore. And I mean NO ONE. There is no limit nor exception to such a statement, hence the sensitive nature of the story having been kiboshed for the time being. I don’t know if or when I can continue the saga. And now there is Bridget wearing a thin t-shirt with nothing underneath. The sight drives me fucking insane every time. She reminds me of... Wait for it... Ashley. And you should know that the actress who portrayed Bridget is named Ashley. Isn’t that fucking splendid? Well, the Raven looked similar, but Ashley was the first girl to stand before me looking EXACTLY how I had envisioned. What does that make me? I don’t fucking care because I have effectively detached myself from society to such an extent to where my words can affect no one else. Oh, people can read and condemn me all they want, yet the truth is not a soul on earth will ever stand before me and take issue with anything I’ve said or typed. I will no longer allow such occurrences because my head can’t deal with people anymore. The sight of Bridget in that shirt is something I can’t fully describe, nor can it be a topic for debate, ever. Too many years of being routed and squished have made me into what you may be imagining. Time and circumstance. And to extend the extent... Be happy that you will never have to be party to an in-person conversation with yours truly. It would be very uncomfortable. I have demonstrated the innate ability to bury people via wording and I will fucking do it again if necessary. Watch the show. Look at her. Learn if you can see what I see and then calculate what it may mean to you. I am not in a very good mood right now.
I think the recent font change is a good thing. To me, the site is much more readable and the text more consistent. This fucking place is all about information exchange, so readability is paramount. Jesus fucking Harold Christ in an unlined bra... Watching the shot of Bridget climbing into Jason’s patrol car is nearly too much to bear. Damn, do I ever want to fly up her dress like a deranged pelican. Fuck me. I lost my train of thought again. Well, the garage is closed and I am about to get cleaned up and head to a couple of stores. I need to take care of business early because as the hours pass, more cars will be on the road. I must have comfort, meaning once I arrive back home I’ll feel much better. I thought the end of this entry was close, but I keep adding images between sections and lengthening the entire essay. My words are completely worthless anymore, although as I have mentioned on many occasions, I love typing, so this one is going to continue for the duration. At least so long as I maintain the flow of thinking, anyway. I don’t know what the fuck else to do. My life has been reduced to near-nothingness. This is all so very sad. I am sad. My existence is sad. The vampire series is but minutes from ending. I’ll have to consider options for what I follow next. Isn’t that exciting? Are you on the edge of your seat waiting for the big reveal of my next program? I’ll bet. This is what my life has become. I need to play with Bridget’s beautiful breasts. Shut up. 1326. I ventured up the highway for the smoke shop, gas station and market. All that crap is out of the way, as is finalizing the kitchen so it is ready for dinner preparations. I need to consider dinner tomorrow, too. Upon returning after shopping and gas, I imagined the days of old when I used to sit at a nice, comfortable bar/restaurant for lunch once a week. Relaxing with a cocktail, atmosphere and the portable word processor was always rewarding. I actually entertained the idea of heading over to one of my favorites to have some good food, but alas my better judgment got the best of me and I relinquished the thought almost immediately. The present cannot mirror the past no matter how much I try. It’s just not going to happen. This is no way to live. Dreams and then nothing. Daydreams and then nothing. Wishes? Nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore aside from going through the motions. Even my new diet isn’t making me feel good. It’s good for me, but does such a state even matter anymore? I’m going to be miserable anyway. I’ve always had what I refer to as ‘the big three’ hobbies at my disposal. Photography, administration of the site, and my truck. Not one of them is holding up lately. This is a right sad state of affairs. It sucks out loud and right down to the ground. I can’t even destroy anything. The time is now 1446 and I returned to the dragon series for some reason. I do love that the king doesn’t take any shit from his queen. So funny. Well, there’s one interest which has not been diminished... Video media. Something wondrous may happen but I can’t be certain yet. If so, I’m going to lose my shit for a few minutes. In the interest of consideration for my book idea, I am printing the first chapter to see if the words hold up on paper. At least the printer troubles seem to have gone away. It’s working fine now. As for the prospect of the story leading somewhere, I just don’t know. I’ve read that publishing anything these days is nearly impossible for an inexperienced author. Time will tell, I guess. As I said, the printer woes are absent of late. Very good. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can plow, nor is the heat helping my cause to be comfortable in life. I am not referring to the weather, for fuck’s sake, but the heat that has been taken during a few key situations (sans recourse, naturally). Every day I try to find my way by embracing whatever has the ability to bring me a bit of solace. On the entertainment front, I gave up trying to find ways of streaming five different channels in order to watch live pro football this fall. I pulled the trigger on a plan that will carry my needs all the way through the season and then come to an abrupt halt after February. I’ve been scouring information to see which channels are already covered by the services currently in use here, yet there is always a brick wall at some point because the major networks also happen to own lots of other cable channels and they don’t want to sell viewership individually. That is to say they must be bundled, a practice I’ve tried to avoid for the last two years to save money. So far, the way the media is priced right now is but one third of the total prior to dumping our cable box. That means I don’t want to nickel and dime my way back to a massive price tag just to watch football. The other option would be to view all of the games at the bar, but my typical tab after visiting for a few hours is more than the fucking streaming package for an entire month. That’s not bullshit, either. So, I’ve got everything in order to watch my games right here at home without issue for the entire season. Very good. The bottom line is watching pro football on the cheap or at a low cost is simply not going to happen. Football is big business, and one way another, fans are going to pay. So am I. One way or another, I am going to watch the games. That is that. Very exciting, eh? Nope. The clock is past four now, so I’ll have to head into the kitchen soon to make revolutions for dinner (again, that is a submarine term) with my other show in the background. Dinner is going to be pretty simple tonight, too. I’m glad. Thursday morning... Coffee. Nothing on the right-hand display yet because I can’t decide what to watch. I began watching the dragon series yesterday, but the show irritates me too often to leave it running in the background. I suppose the older generation will have to suffice for the time being, or until I can get her bouncing breasts and bare midriff out of my fucking brain. This morning is already a pain in the ass. I was pretty fucking pissed off last night while sitting around in the garage with others, too. The process began early as I sat and considered everything I’ve done in this life as opposed to where I am right now. The gradient is about as stark as is imaginable. I still can’t believe where I am, although I will say that the road has been pretty long and fairly slow, rather like comparing oneself to a past version by looking at photos dated decades apart. This is not good and represents just another facet of the mass of ‘not good’ shit in my head. The bouncing breasts are merely a symptom. Sometimes I don’t know how in the blue fuck I get out o bed in the morning. Perhaps I still have a sense of responsibility. Hmm. I am still pissed off, though. As I said, last night was rather shitty and I cut it short and tossed the others out before heading downhill. Ten at night is my new limit, and I will probably avoid such situations unless the heat drives me out of the house as it did yesterday. I’m tired of wasting my time – and efforts in thinking – on other people. So, the dinner I did not make last night will probably be cooked early today and then simply reheated during the evening. As for the rest of my hours alone, I am overjoyed to be alone. Each day the intensity of my feelings increases, eventually leading me to be pretty angry and/or sad. There does not seem to be anything I can do about it because the passage of time demonstrates the ill-fated idea that the longer I sit here, the further back the memories drift. I can’t do anything about the clock running, though. Time is unstoppable, and as such, pushes me to believe that with each passing day, the holes inside me become more difficult to fill. That pretty much sums up the whole shitaree, too. I do not expect anything to change for the better, nor do I anticipate something good coming along to help me. If I reach, I have to trust, and that is about as likely as me strapping the Passion to my waiting wrist. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. I’ll keep pointing out such a fact for posterity, as well. I don’t know what else to do anymore. 0917. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll begin my housework. I have some laundry and the daily routine, and then perhaps near lunchtime I’ll cook for tonight. The weather is already warming quite a bit at such an early hour. I guess nothing I say here matters. Typing will not solve anything, although the truth is through years of routing, squishing and being a generally ‘nice’ person, I’ve allowed certain aspects of life to be removed. When combined with the two shit situations from the past, the mix has become nearly unlivable. I get angry, and nothing changes. I become overly sad, and nothing changes. I sit here and speak of my feelings, and nothing changes. Maybe it’s time to pass the fucking hat. You tell me what to do, if you dare. Intermission... OVER."
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