May 22nd, 2023 9:17am pdt

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.

Dying Orchids

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"Thursday morning and I have no idea of what to do. The early business is out of the way and the house is nice and quiet again. My efforts yesterday afternoon add up to what should be a very simple routine today. This is good because I am in no mood for bullshit. Coffee. The trailing end of my current program is playing out on the right-hand display, for all it may be worth. I am barely paying attention. Some impossible circumstances are going to be on the screen very soon, much like the way my life has operated in recent months. Impossible things in my head, always. I do not see anything changing in the future.

Impossible is the correct term, believe me. I live in a fantasy world of my own design because consideration of reality only deepens my depression. There was a glimpse and it sent me into a partial tailspin. I’ll have to work on that today. I can’t fall all the way down right now. I just can’t fucking have it. Not yet, anyway. Trust that the situations in my head are impossible. Last year really did a number on my ability to live and cope with changing circumstances. It also laid waste to what little patience I had left. I just don’t fucking care about much these days.

Last year was even worse than seventeen or eighteen. Eleven is falling to fourth in the hierarchy.

I have to do something different today. I don’t know what, but something. The days are all running together and I can feel the dire nature of my condition. I have to make a difference, somehow. The flowers are dying out there and I can’t help them.

There was a great shot of Melisandre with fire reflecting in her eyes. Very cool.

‘At least we’re already in a crypt.’ – Lord Varys

Back in aught-nine, I was communicating via one of the old interfaces (which predated FB and all that other shit plaguing society) and I often mused over how many failures I’d been tracking through the years. At some point, I mentioned that I could not even fail without failing further, meaning my reactions to the issues I created were negative enough for me to continue fulfilling such a prophecy every fucking day. There was a long period of time when those feelings faded away and I began to see my value through whatever connected me to parts of life, such as other people. Well, another fade has been taking over my psyche at one point or another each day. I have been looking at where I was versus where I am now and the gradient is very bad. When the wights walked into and fell upon the fire line to build a bridge, why did they not burn? The others did while in similar circumstances. Whatever. I didn’t write this crap. Anyway, my past is filled with accomplishments and tons of problems solved through sheer intelligence, problem-solving, and ingenuity. I am still capable of such things, too, but lately they are few and far-between because I am home all the time. I feel partially worthless right now. In the past, I felt important on more than one level, whereas now there is but a single set of rails governing my every move in life. This is not fucking good. I already have plenty weighing on my head. Adding feelings of worthlessness will only speed the train. I don’t even know why I brought this up. The information has been here before. Perhaps I am seeing the recombination of my past efforts and simply worrying over the near future. I don’t know. My troubleshooting skills are falling away.

0928. I wanted to see her. I needed the vision, too. I needed it like I needed to breathe. Magic happens when I see certain aspects of her form. It fades quickly, though, because there is an almost immediate realization that I reside in a different universe entirely, one which cannot connect to another. I am seeing through a hole in the workings. There can be no connection in reality because I am so far gone that I may as well be looking up from the grave. I still need her, however, because the desperate nature of the way I’ve been forced to live will not let up no matter how hard I try to escape this hell. I will probably see her again and fall on my stupid face. My brain will not allow me to look away even for the purpose of saving my sanity. I have to see. The imagination involved goes crazy, too. I picture all sorts of shit that date back to the one at the pool. There are similarities between the two. Unfortunately, I can’t talk about them. This is fucking killing me. There are many things in my head that I cannot lay out here in detail, and there is an equal number that I could not relay to another person. Well, there have been three in recent years with whom I would speak in detail without worry of backlash, yet they are gone. The process of trying to connect to someone for the purpose of learning coping methods would be daunting to say the least, and that right there is the fucking point. Trust would be key, and the bottom line is there is not a soul on earth whom I trust these days. No one. When I speak of her (or some other recent visions), I leave out so much that there is almost no purpose to my process. This whole situation is complete shit.

1037. My daily routine is finished and I have some laundry in the washer. I also have a drink next to me here in the office. The two key needs for a morning cocktail are suppression and the inherent calming effect that alcohol provides most of the time. Just one, though. A second could send everything sideways for a while, and I can’t have that today. The major downside of cocktail number two is a deep-seated need to express my disdain in a very uncomfortable manner. I’ve been avoiding the continuation of drinking for some weeks now. I do not want the bell tolling just yet, but the flowers are dying anyway. No choice.

Aside from laundry, I may bring the paint into the house so it can normalize (temperature) for a few days. I’d like to finish the trim in the bathroom after all this time. The appearance of the top of that room is irritating me more each day. I have a plan for framing the window, too. I haven’t had much ambition lately, meaning I have to be pretty damned annoyed with either the project or myself in order to actually move. As of yet, I’ve not been driven to such a point. I am finding it more and more difficult to care about anything as time passes. And keep in mind that no aspect of the bathroom is difficult. The main issue is me. At least I am aware of such a fact. Better than nothing. Other than the aforementioned shit today, I will probably spend more time sitting right here on my sorry ass to type out additional thoughts. Ugh. Whatever.

The recombination continues inside me.

The ‘thing’ which may have been realized last year is on my tired mind every fucking day of the week. Every. Single. Day. Some years ago, I tried to discuss such an occurrence with the only person close to me at the time. She was very understanding and assured me that nothing was out of the ordinary. I am still trying to believe her words. I don’t know if she had been trying to calm me or was simply conveying a level of caring due to a lack of any real solution. I really have no idea, even several years later. Last year may have been the time when there was a finer point due to being alone. I can’t be certain. I wish those ears still existed, too. I could use them right about now, and for several more reasons. I’ve been dwelling on the subject too much and finding that forcing the issue is merely a bandage and nothing more. I no longer have a choice, either.

The rails that were laid out before me many years ago carried everything that I could have been. Rails cannot give way to intentions, good or bad. They simply guide the train. The route was there long before I was born, and continues to this very second. There was no other way my life could have developed. And no, I am not bowing to all that hocus pocus mumbo jumbo voodoo bullshit. This is merely MY interpretation of ME and has nothing to do with anyone else, nor anyone who has ever lived. Just me. I have been on a road with no turns, as it were. Whatever changed last year – yes, it may be unrelated, so shut up – was predestined to happen, along with whatever related physical effects have attached themselves for posterity. The physical aspect is but one smidgen among a mass of difficulties, whereas this mental and emotional wasteland has become far more troubling. I need to get away from this right now.

I feel bad all the time. ALL of the time. And I am a good portion of the reason. I just don’t fucking care anymore. If I disappear due to too much difficulty in dealing with life, the decision is my own. I will be responsible for the effect upon those who know me, so the only issue is to calculate which is worse. As of yet, I have not been able to predict such a circumstance.

This is the point which arrives every fucking day when I do not know how to proceed with the following hours. The time is 1145 and I am nearly completely out of fuel. I will finish the laundry, but how much time will it require? Ten minutes? Will the orchids be dead by then?

Friday morning. There was a little something for me, just a few seconds’ worth. Something for me... Get it? Nope. Am I referring to a vision? Maybe; maybe not. A car or bike? Beauty on the display? There was something for ME, if that helps. Not much, though. Not much at all, considering the depth of need inside me. Last year is rising in importance. Nothing good is on my horizon, yet just to twist my insides into a pretzel from time to time, there will always be a carrot dangling ahead of this fucking cart. I can’t do anything about anything these days. Yesterday I spoke of physical effects. Well, all this shit is related, so use your imagination. Something was there for me, but only for a short-short. Look it up. Now I am a bit further down than I already was at the outset of this morning. At least I have coffee. And I switched off the fucking dragon show again because it was getting on my nerves. At only 0837 on the clock, I already have half of my typical routine finished because I was motivated earlier. I don’t know where the motivation came from, though. It was a burst. Nothing more. Wow, this pilot was shot during ninety-seven. Jamie was only sixteen at the time and had not altered her nose yet. Funny. Anyway, I don’t know how long I am going to sit here this morning. One more cup of coffee, perhaps. Very little of life is appealing right now.

I saw what I saw. Nothing surprising, either. I’ve gazed at the same sight many times, although it is the rare occasion when the ideal aspects are on display. Well, not that rare, I guess. Once in a while. My brain instantly travels to places I can’t discuss on the site, and all of this is due to the dreams last year, along with a few subsequent visions far from home. I am still having trouble interpreting the feelings, even after so much time has passed and so many words have been dedicated to understanding such a change. I just don’t know what the fuck to think anymore. This morning was not a big deal. The past has already shown me that my condition is far weaker than I would prefer. Honestly, I wish those dreams had never come to me. There was already plenty going wrong at the time, and adding to the pile only complicates my life. I can’t say much about this shit. Housework will kick off very soon. God damn does my brain hurt these days. Down we go. The flowers are dying.

Vision leads to daydreaming. And then the dire feelings take over, as if remaining stagnant will cause more harm than I can handle. Depression moves in soon after desperation, and then everything calms for a little while until the cycle repeats. And it will always repeat because as the days roll by, I am further from where I need to be and closer to the end of everything. One leads to the next, and then the next, and on it goes. My world is small, yet I still can’t find the power to control much. I will see something soon enough. The squishing doesn’t help, either. It represents just how weakened I had become due to seeking the deepest need of all. Oh, and I did not find it. The recombination is a realization that this ‘circle’ of events that drives my head into the fucking soil is going to expand and there is nothing I can do about it. Seeing something causes the flame of ablation, turbulence flows along and disrupts my daily life, and then it all comes together again just before the next fucking strike. Recombination, plain and simple. Aerospace terms? What the fuck happened to me? Maybe I just need different words these days because there is not change aside from the negative.

Two items from last year dominate my thinking much of the time, one of which is something I still don’t fully understand. It may be nothing more than random circumstances, to be honest. I don’t know for sure because I can’t explore the topic with anyone. As for the other one, well... I think I have an idea of how that shit came about. The bad part is I can’t do anything about either of them. When I saw evidence of reality (I think it was last year), I knew it would become a big fucking problem, and lo and behold here I sit spinning circles around something I cannot understand. This is highly convoluted, I know, but the truth is that these two items are far too personal to detail on the site. What I would need for some help is a pair of ears, yet no matter how much turmoil seems to stem from such problems, I still cannot even fathom the idea of speaking about them. They are unrelated, too. One is way up in the sky, while the other is from hell. When I dream at night? Neither is present. No one is listening. I saw some things, too. The evidence hit me upside the head and only helped to increase my already stark level of desperation. This shit will come to a head. I keep saying that because I already know where everything will lead.

0932. Maybe I should abandon this crap and take care of some housework, lest I lose my shit this morning and cause problems. I’m always ready to flip the fuck out. And the flowers continue their decline into death.

1017. Everything is finished and I have a nice, fat glass of depressant next to me. I see out the window that my neighbor is tooling around in his driveway, and another club member arrived to shoot the shit. I may or may not shower and head out there to see what’s going on. Right now I just don’t feel it. Ah... There was Hesh’s quote again. This is probably the twentieth occasion of me overhearing those words, too. I’ve seen this series all the way through so many times that I don’t have a clue of the number. There have been days in which I viewed nearly an entire season between early morning and evening. His line of dialog has become a stark realization of my way of life in general, and the last few years in particular. I love it and hate it at the same time. Anyway, I don’t know what I’ll be doing for the rest of this day. Oh, another bike just showed up. Two more. Wow. At least he has a social life. I gave mine up out of a horrid combination of fear and disdain. Splendid. Maybe they are going to take off for a ride together. I won’t be going anywhere. The flowers are dying.

1055. Everyone who was next door left. I guess they did go on a ride together. That’s cool. I won’t be going anywhere.

I showered just in case the gathering next door spilled into my garage. The FXR is still on the lift – partially assembled at this point and awaiting engine machine work – so there was a possibility that my neighbor might come over to discuss the project with his friends. They left before I was dressed. Oh, well. Sometimes I like to be out there to answer questions or offer other tidbits of information, but today I see that is not to happen. The house is very quiet right now. In and around whatever else I choose to do with this day, I will probably break out the camera and make sure it is ready to go. There is a car show at the high school tomorrow and we might attend. I’ve already missed two big shows at the fairgrounds across the bay in my old stomping grounds, meaning this one could be nice for a change. Whether or not we actually attend, I am planning to have the camera ready. The potential issues inherent in visiting a car show have already been swirling inside my head. The past visits to the fairgrounds never really held much, although the race certainly broke me in half not long ago. I can still see that girl as if the event was just yesterday. If we do head over there tomorrow morning, I’ll have to steel myself just in case. And there is another, larger issue related to the car show that I cannot discuss. Believe me, it’s bad. I may end up returning home with an even bleaker outlook than I have right now. When the damaging dreams align with something in reality, I am forever reduced from whatever I had been prior to the vision. Not good. This can only go on so long before I have to force a change. The dying flowers will pay no mind to my plight.

‘And all that love had gone...’

Love is just a word. The connection that word implies is likely different for everyone. For example, I love Jamie's character, but does that mean anything to someone else? Can they think of my feelings and relate. Maybe, maybe not. Most likely? Not. There is no way to know for sure. The word is forever a point of contention and will probably never be fully defined. This lends to the color analogy, but I don't want to get into that one right now.

Saturday. The middle of the night was troubling and the difficulty continues to this very moment. I have coffee and my show, but neither are going to help. Another vision occurred yesterday and at the time I held it together as well as could be expected. I believe when something like that happens, the experience affects me enough to remain swirling inside my subconscious, only to resurface later when I am not prepared for such feelings. I will say that right now I am literally broken in half AGAIN and do not know how to deal with this condition. As usual, I need help. None is available, though. I have become desperate for more than just beauty. I have become desperate for help. And there is another applicable term I’ve been leaving out of the content for a long time. Fear holds it back. Later this morning we are likely going to the small car show and I have little doubt that something over there will hit my eyes and cause all sorts of shit inside. Yesterday was one of those moments when I felt much more than just a reaction to a beautiful, wondrous vision. There are other, more dramatic and damaging feelings attached to the sight. I need to hold my tongue for the rest of my life.

The car show. Hm. I am going to bring my camera just in case there are some technical views similar to what I’ve encountered at the other show across the bay. Nothing else will pull the lens, to be honest. The last time I shot a covert image of a woman was Jaime in San Diego, an incident nearly two decades back. Trying to capture someone without their knowledge is difficult and very risky, not to mention being right up against moral issues. The camera will point toward the mechanics of motion, and that is all.

Wow, the feelings inside my head and heart right now are terrible, painful, and trying to reduce me to a ball of a useless human being. I need to push. I am so unhappy that words fail. This has not all been caused by yesterday, either. There are forces from the past and present working together and bent upon my destruction. The vision was another straw. And let me say that seeing certain forms on television is often difficult, but in person? Much worse. I won’t even begin to speak of the smile involved. Today is going to be tough, to say the least. I need her so badly that I may not be able to properly operate my camera later. Shit.

We did end up having a short powwow yesterday about the motorcycles, plus I helped replace a kickstand spring. I don’t believe we were out there longer than an hour before they had to split. No big deal. I decided to spend a bit of time on the front of the bike before they rolled up the driveway, and in the end I was able to mount the calipers and center support for the brakes. I don’t have much else to do until the engine work can be completed, and I believe the information for it will be forthcoming sometime next week.

Damn it. No matter what direction I attempt this morning, those dire feelings continue to push at my thoughts enough to continue derailing my process here. I don’t want to flip out at 0733 in the morning. I keep seeing things over and over, such as that fucking occurrence that I still can’t describe (and would not place here for all to see, either) and the shit from last year. Those two problems are beginning to pull my focus more than in the past and I am worried that one day I will sit down and decide to remain there until the end. I don’t understand this at all. As I sit here and type words, my head spins a one-eighty every few seconds and slows the progress of building the fucking content. Back and forth, all fucking morning long. I am so sick of this, yet the painful nature of what I am dreaming is putting the kibosh to anger lately. This hurts more than it forces me to flare. I suppose if I simply wallow in emotional pain all the time and keep it to myself, no harm is done (to others). The main issue is that I have become so bottled and cornered that eventually something has to give. I don’t know what or when, but something will break. Mornings such as this are going to continue, as well, because I have zero recourse in life. For the tenth fucking time, I was over there, and now I am here. There can be no u-turns, nor can I take much more of this bullshit before creating very fucked-up circumstances.

Jesus fucking hell did I ever want to see more. The smile is killing me inside. I needed to see everything and create one of those situations which is a combination of what I’ve seen and what I’ve dreamed while watching my favorite media. She could be a part of that fantasy. So could I, damn it. Bottled and cornered. The flowers are dying. Soon? Dead.

I keep seeing that thing over and over inside my head. What ‘thing’? I don’t know what it is or how to describe it while maintaining discretion here. I can remember discussing this some years ago, too, and though no conclusion or clear understanding was realized at the time, just being able to air my concerns was somewhat rewarding. There is more, too, but I can’t say too much here. The fact is there are a few key problems inside me with which I am still trying to cope, and as of yet my efforts have not only failed to bear fruit, but everything seems to be expanding and worsening as the days pass. I can’t control my subconscious, so the issues and wonder that is gone from my life will continue to nail me to the wall, and there is not one fucking thing I can do about any of it. I feel worse by the week, such as this morning. I am feeling so fucking sad that I can barely see straight. This hurts. No recourse. Dying flowers. Broken heart. Maybe the car show is not a good idea today. I don’t need any more fuel on the fire. Holy fucking shit... The things in my head these days. Believe me, you don’t want any more of this.

This continues to worsen no matter what comes along to bring me a measure of comfort. The real comfort is probably gone forever. For me, at least. I just don’t see it in the future because I’ve become so skewed and out of balance that what seems ‘ok’ in my head is probably completely fucking insane in the grand scheme. There is that other situation which comes to mind from time to time, yet it forces me to go back in time all too often. Honestly, there is not much left to my life which has the power or ability to pull me up and provide enjoyment. Everything is very thin right now. All the while? The flowers are heading for the organics can.

The other situation. Hmm. I don’t know. The past will slap me upside the head, perhaps. I just don’t fucking know.

The car show is likely out of the question now because the weather is very drizzly and not conducive to carrying a real camera. I don’t want a hood or umbrella, either. I suppose the wait is on for the next big show across the bay. Whatever. I am probably avoiding ten pairs of fucking pants, anyway. Yes, everything is defined by the potential of some errant form able to completely flatten my head and derail the day. That is how weakened and frail I have become, not to mention feeling so sensitive to everything these days that a dandelion in the breeze could break me in two.

I still see it at this very moment. I see the other thing, too. Both. I can feel the sadness mounting as I consider the ramifications of being so fucking lost in life. I can see her, as well, and such a thought can force me into very negative thinking. Today will be tough, I know, but I’ve pulled myself out of this shithole in the past. Maybe I can do it again. I was right fucking there, damn it. Right there. Relocation. Furniture. Discussion. Understanding? Some, perhaps, but not all. And then right over there was additional conversation. More understanding? I doubt it, but at least over there was the thing. I hope I appreciated the past enough at the time because now it feels like a thousand years ago. Right over there. Oh, and that other one... Right over there, but not the same as the former. Right fucking there. Only some discussion was necessary. A little bit. There have been times when I should have made myself abundantly clear. Oh, well. Maybe the other situation should be further explored. I don’t fucking know. I was there; I may never be there again. The earth is tilted roughly 23 ½ degrees from vertical but I could swear it is halfway off its axis. Eh... Who fucking cares? No one is listening, nor are they seeing the dying flowers.

I didn’t finish watching the series this time due to feeling very disillusioned by the writing. Many people felt they went off the rails toward the end, and despite some quality interpretations of the storyline, the events during the last three episodes still don’t hold up after being so emotionally involved with the characters for so long. Six years, actually. I suppose I’ll go back to that fantasy world in the future, though. Some of the earlier episodes are fucking amazing beyond belief. Right now nothing is streaming on the right-hand display because my head is sideways and the feelings have yet to let up at all. I don’t like this situation very much.

I will have to embrace the other situation because I don’t feel there is any other choice right now. Some good may come from it, too. Not a lot, but some. The way I feel this morning is pretty fucking rare, to be honest. My head needs to clear and that is all. It just needs to be in a better place today, and I can’t seem to think of another path toward such an end. The hour is far too early to be so fucked up.

The coffee is almost gone for the day. My routine will follow, I guess, and then perhaps some work in the office. I have to move the drafting table ninety degrees and then swap positions of the file cabinet and safe to make this space more comfortable.

Sunday is here. What does it mean? I don’t know what anything means. Yesterday came and went as if I slept through the whole damned thing. I won’t have a repeat today. My Sunday business will ensure a decent feeling by evening. I will also have some hours to myself, for whatever that may be worth anymore. I need to maximize the garbage space, so perhaps the time alone will help me maintain pace today. Eh... It doesn’t matter. This is my entire life anymore.

Some have called me strange for the way I do things around the house and the fact that I am here all the time. I suppose this is a strange situation. Being here helps me stay safe (for the most part) insofar as keeping myself away from those places which carry harmful imagery. Yes, I still see shit from time to time, but not nearly as much as in the past. Not only that, but my feelings are different now; more dire, I suppose, meaning that when I do fall, it is much further and more crippling than in the past. Part of me remains here because I don’t want to be around other people. The rest is due to my years-long desire to be in control of as much of my time as possible. There are two definitions of ‘safe’, as well. Two. One is much more difficult than the other. Friday pushed me a bit. I had a hard time trying to push the daydreams away so I could move on with the day. My safety dictates that a limit should be imposed upon the number of trips I take beyond the sidewalk. The second aspect of safety is supported by the first, if that makes any sense. A large part of this situation can be attributed to the fact that I’ve been here at home for three years, and whatever little habits began at the outset have been reinforced by the passage of time. The longer I remain holed up, the more the gradient between the past and present is illuminated. If I am strange, so be it. And again, there is more to this than I am revealing in the text.

There she is again – very young because this is toward the beginning of the series – and already completely unreal. I am going to try to grab an image later in the current episode. Huge eyes.

0812. Within the next hour or so I am going to hit the first half of my routine, after which I need to begin organizing things to fit stuff in the trash. I suppose some people really don’t give a shit and simply roll the carts down the driveway whenever needed, but I tend to be a bit more driven. There are always improvements to be made through organization, so the more I can fit into the can, the better. Eventually my efforts spill into other endeavors. If the way I do things and my need to maintain order with respect to the house and trash makes me strange, I don’t care. I may be far too old to alter the larger concerns at this point in life. Yes, I am strange. Fuck it. Oh, God... She is so lovely. All too often I find that everything I am is for only her. Not good. I am so out of balance that when I see the difference between who I am and who I was years ago, I can’t believe the change. Christ, that woman is stunning. I feel more for her with each passing day. Very bad. I think the reason her eyes appeared larger during the first season was due to how thin she was. Eating disorders are not funny. Still beautiful beyond words, though. Unbelievable.

I’ll be away from this machine very soon. Maybe one more cup of coffee, though. I took a break in the garage and saw that there are tons of little items in need of help. I also saw the dying flowers which have become a physical representation of my slow decline. Anyway, I usually take care of the floor and cat stuff first, and then move on to whatever seems most important. I am looking forward to some housework today. The Sunday business always feels good for some reason. I can’t explain it. Perhaps the idea of maintaining control over the house is part of it, the rest likely being a feeling of accomplishment when the evening arrives. Whatever. I don’t know if switching back to the gangsters again was the best course of action right now because I’ve been experiencing far more desperation than even a few months ago, and Jamie plays into my mental escape from reality. Bad. This will worsen greatly when the fourth show comes around in the rotation. Believe it.

I might toss the old orchids into the compost today. They are dying and I don’t fucking care. At this point in time, the area atop my toolbox is more important.

1038. The Sunday business is underway and I have most of my daily routine finished. Unfortunately, there were three issues before my eyes a few minutes ago which have me reevaluating my position within this backward society. They will fade, but the damage resulting from such occurrences is cumulative. Nothing goes away completely. Three. I don’t know how such a sight will affect the rest of my day, either. Right now I still see far too much – radii, other lines, flowing hair and the like – and all of it is subject to the damaging dreams and positioned in life so as to bring a few key questions to mind. This is not good. I really don’t need to see anything more, especially considering what happened to my view of the world after those fucking dreams last year. Good God was Jamie ever thin during the first season. Jesus. I am glad she recovered during later years. Wow... Fucking thin. Anyway, two pairs of yoga pants and one pair of jeans. I saw enough, and enough for a lifetime... All in the space of ten fucking seconds. I can only say so much or the backlash will be severe. Well, if anyone is actually reading my words, that is. Honestly, I don’t care anymore. There is just enough discretion and concern in me to avoid certain key terms on the site. Three. I saw three. At least if I am going to be all fucked up over beauty and desire again, I may as well take comfort in the fact that a good portion of my Sunday housework is out of the way. The flowers are still dying, though. Forever dying right before my tired eyes. The orchids may represent much more than...

People are out and about, going on with their lives as they see fit, and here I am sitting behind the window – like every fucking day – and wondering why the rails beneath me have guided the locomotive to this place. The entire train has been outlined, yet not detailed. For reasons of good form, I am going to pull that series and reimagine the storyline with greater detail and more exposition regarding my feelings at the time. As such, the past will once again weigh upon my head and find me relating the feelings described in the previous paragraph with possible reasons. I know there was a tinge back in eighty-six (thanks, Geoff), yet that type of mindset did not fully return until last year. Unfortunately, there is no way to embrace such a stance in these late days. Ah, fuck. This is bad. I wanted to swallow all three of them. Shut up.

1128. I have beans soaking in water for tomorrow’s side dish preparations. We will be attending dinner on Tuesday for a birthday celebration with three salads that will be made between tomorrow and the morning of the party. I am trying to stay in front of the work schedule so everything is in order hours before we leave. As for the rest of today, I’ll take care of the garbage work and see what other little details can be addressed prior to the close of business hours. The three visions are still swirling inside my head. I must be careful with my words.

One of the three, for the second time. I really didn’t need to see, but at the same time I simply MUST see as much as possible because everything eventually goes away. DAMN. One of the three, and the one that matters most. Highest level of power. Strongest pull of life. Largest deficit imaginable. Widest gradient, ever. There was a factor present that has a tendency to protect my vision. If not for that one detail, I would be completely wrecked right now. I have fallen victim to such a situation in the past and it drove me to drink. One of the three; none of them there for me. Nothing for me. Nothing on the horizon except for more of the same. Splendid. Marvelous. Swell. What a fucking maroon I’ve become. I am going to remember today for a long fucking time. Jesus fucking holy hell in a pair of pants is my head ever suffering. I can’t do anything about it, either. Not a fucking thing.

Of all that I’ve seen throughout the past few years, two stand out. One was the girl by the market dressed in gray, and the main reason was having been reminded of the beauty that worked at the electronics supply way back during the RF period. The second was in my eyes today. Seeing her forces me to relate the dying flowers to my own issues, most notably the idea that the prospect of happiness in life is diminishing at an equally dramatic and depressing rate. The flowers are dying, along with portions of my insides. The shit is cumulative and I cannot take much more. No wonder I drink during all hours of the day.

Throughout the past few hours, I spent some time working on the garbage and the bike, had something to eat (not very exciting), and finalized the housework. I am waiting to see what will arrive from the City before rolling the carts to the curb. Sometimes we receive produce that is better off in a compost pile. Ugh. Whatever. There can be usable items, just not many. I think from this point forward, my work is done for the day. The vision was crammed down my throat, the bike work cannot continue until the engine issue is worked out, and any ambition I may have felt prior to lunch is now gone. The hour is now 1630.

Monday morning. There is a debris box filled with thoughts, visions, and yet another issue. It is not scheduled to be picked up, ever. More stuff in there. More stuff. Yesterday. I missed the opportunity that could have defined this calendar year and likely would have birthed enough material for a slew of essays. I missed out because I didn’t think anything would happen. I hoped, yet the reality is that very rarely is something special nearby. I have been wondering what the motivation could have been. Why? I understand that sometimes there is a bit of discomfort or a piece of clothing feeling out of sorts, but what took place was the topic of so many days of wishing that I still can’t believe it. I should have taken steps to ensure that the incident would be clear and remain inside my head in detail for a long time. I was ill-prepared for something so dramatic and beautiful. I don’t even know if there will be another opportunity in the future. I still can’t believe the maneuver... Why? Was there some errant, otherworldly connection to my mind which allowed me to see when there otherwise would have been a much slimmer chance? I don’t understand how the whole thing transpired, but I saw it with my own two eyes and now cannot go back. The thoughts have been mounting since last night and I am going to lose my shit over this. And? I am dying to see it happen again so I can be ready. As badly as I need to see everything, the incident yesterday may have represented a small step in a wondrous direction. The most likely future of that moment is that it will never occur again. Not near me, anyway. I may have seen the only real chance and missed it forever. Ugh. As I said... Monday morning.

There is no fucking way anything will have enough power to pull that event from my head today. The housework and preparations for tomorrow must be addressed later this morning, yet along the way I’ll be seeing yesterday’s wonder over and over. For months I have been creating fictional situations in my head and one of them – nothing dramatic, but enough to drive me insane – played out in a manner of speaking, and now I have to attempt to live life as if nothing happened.

One of the three, again, but? Not really. A missed opportunity that will haunt me for a very long time. I wish I could turn the clock back, and that is a pretty strong statement considering most of the time my wish is to repeat the glowing years. Rolling the clock back to yesterday would mean I might see something special. And I mean fucking SPECIAL. I missed it. Oh, I saw it, but the entire affair could have been amplified by yours truly in order to file away information that I’ve wanted since last year. There have been a few details, yet the event put all of the past to shame. Too bad I missed a wonderful opportunity to see things as they are. Shit. Gazing at three was bad enough, but little did I know that the movement was going to take place as if transmitted from my worrisome head.

Monday. I’ll care for everything that needs to be done. The morning has been very depressing, though, so getting up to do housework is going to be tough. Yesterday spilled over into this morning and has left me pretty sad. Dying orchids, indeed. Some of them are decaying already. Well, those flowers in my head, anyway. I need to stop thinking about everything at the same time and focus upon one problem at a time. The alternative might be me completely unable to function, and I can’t have that right now. I need to remain stable, at least as far as others might be able to tell. I also need to maintain my little apple cart. When things go too far, however, I’ll be ready.

0828. What in the fuck is going to happen? That sound? Or... The other one?

I have to pick a direction. Just one. Yesterday is weighing on my head and will probably remain directly behind my eyes for the duration. Sitting here right now, I can’t know what the rest of the day will entail, nor can I see reason to keep the flowers if they are just going to fall apart. My insides are falling apart, too. I’ve been squished and routed, meaning some sort of uncomfortable demonstration may be in order sometime during the coming weeks. I am thinking that if I can find a way to let yesterday fall away from my direct attention, doing so may pave the way to more hope in the future. Right now I don’t have the first damned clue as to how to proceed, though. I still see the whole fucking even playing out like a looping video inside my brain. When I was in the parking lot by the market and that girl in gray walked past, I calculated at lightning speed that I would never see her again (or, at least figured the odds were pretty fucking slim), so I made the decision to turn around and gaze at her from the back as she walked. That decision paid off unlike anything in recent memory. What happened yesterday was a similar opportunity, yet one detail has been left out so as to save myself from a blast of shit. A split-second could have yielded something so special that I would likely never forget it. Well, I fucked up and became distraught to the point of leaving any possible clear thinking out of the equation and lost myself in the dream. Realistically speaking, I don’t believe the incident could have gone any other way. I failed to take a step and am now falling away once again. This day is going to be a fucking trial. Believe it.

Once again, I have failed to maintain any semblance of order or cohesion within an entry. Do I care? I don’t know. My site has turned into nothing more than a complaint department gone off the rails. Yesterday was merely a symptom of a much larger problem, and one I cannot seem to solve. Dying flowers; dying hope. The reasons for everything have become more elusive than ever. I do know some of the information in detail, yet I can’t lay it all out here. I need a fucking pair of real ears attached to the right person, and the very idea that help could exist within such a situation, I now only see the downhill.

I am going to head to the garage and look at the flowers."