January 23rd, 2023 9:32am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Sinful Mind-full read ( words) "1422. I took care of one smog test a little while ago. One down, one to go. I can have my car tested anytime because the time is always available. I don’t know what else I may do around the house for the remainder of business hours, though. Driving up the highway for the test took less time than I would have thought, yet due to going out for a bit I really don’t feel like accomplishing anything this afternoon. The car being tested was also a test for me. Sometimes I don’t feel like being around other people, so heading out the door and being among society can be quite a trial. I made it, though, and am proud of myself for taking care of some business beyond the norm today. The car registrations are but once a year, anyway. Not that big of a deal. The show is once again gracing the right-hand display and I have lots of time to myself for continuing whatever the hell this has become. So, where was I? Sin. Not the video game, either. The real thing. One of my neighbors up the street is REALLY thin. She birthed a baby around a year ago or so, and prior to being pregnant she appeared closer to ‘average’ in weight and form. Now? She walks by almost daily and waves to me, and I look back at her wondering if her caloric intake is too low. Geez Louise, that girl is thin. And here she comes again with the doggie and toddler. So thin. Just something I think about from time to time. Sometimes I wish I had not left the goblet after that first trip. The ensuing years were rife with obsession, yearning and wondering if I could ever fill the holes inside me. Prior to visiting Vegas in zero-three, I did not think in such terms nearly as often. I just don’t know. ‘I’m makin’ breakfast. Want some eggs?’ ‘Eggs? Why don’t you put on your fuckin’ pants.’ I just realized one of the reasons I still watch this show. During the late zeros and a few years after the turn of the decade, low-rise jeans were still very popular. Now? High-rise and beyond. That fucking style should have never made it out of the seventies. Horrible. Oh, and the dialog above is not from my current program. I just wanted to make that clear. The issue is the fucking style of pants these days. The seventies had many positives in my eyes, most notably some of the home decor and woodwork seen in houses that were built prior to that decade. Fashion was definitely a negative. To me, anyway. And now it looks much worse than during the seventies. Much, much worse. The realm continues to encapsulate me no matter what I may be typing, as if the background thoughts are becoming permanent. I mentioned the neighbor because not only is she really thin, but is also quite often wrapped in tight-fitting pants that hide absolutely nothing. I don’t feel THAT way about her, however. The pants are a reminder of everything else, most notably of the girl in the store even though she was wearing jeans. The lines are key. If I don’t see a hint of those most beautiful representations of form, there is little worry. Sometimes I suspect they are present, yet there is no way of knowing. Her lines were right there in the well-lit video department. The combination of her position facing away from me and the fact that she was standing with her feet together completely skyrocketed the appearance of her lines. And she was tiny, not likely a quarter of an inch beyond five feet in height. The entire picture was stunning. My sinful thinking is at an all-time high and she is a good portion of the reason. Keep in mind that she is just a person and was standing there doing her job. A person... Above all things. I do not wish to affect anyone, ever. I stared for seconds and then walked away. Between the first sight of her and the act of climbing into my car, all sorts of situations were manufactured at high speed and tattooed to my brain. Some of those situations were very erotic. If we go back to the damaging dreams and more recent visions, a similar result is apparent. The differences cannot be revealed, unfortunately. The realm is becoming my god. Of that there can be no doubt any longer. 1715 and here I am once again. I restocked some items and did a general straightening of the dining room since it doubles as a partial pantry these days. A second polish of the kitchen is also finished. While working out there I actually missed sitting here in front of the control center. The morning is my favorite, though. The quiet nature of this room combined with hot coffee is really comforting, even when the subject matter seems to be out of control. 0703 on Friday morning. Coffee, cats fed, and the show over there on what is soon to be the second display of three. I received a notification this morning that the third display will arrive on Monday, for sure. The tip was to let me know it may be here that early, but the shipping information does not lie. I have no idea what I was dreaming this morning. Something about the Waterpik I set up last night, and then being involved in a combat situation while riding a flight simulator that was about to do a corkscrew and harm people beneath the machinery. What was going through my head to cause such strange dreams is beyond me. Oh, there is Nora again. What a beauty. Why couldn’t I have dreamed of her? Maybe a few moments of holding hands? I need that, especially from one of those with whom I seem to have a heartfelt connection (just me, not them). The combat was very odd, as if the science fiction rubbed off on what I had been thinking prior to sleep. Aliens? I don’t know. At least the girls didn’t appear to me again. I don’t need that shit right now. As things stand, I am already straining myself for more visions and yearning to see the tiniest detail which can lend support to the near-complete oil paintings in my brain. Dreaming about odd circumstances or situations is fine. Nora is tipsy and adorable. Damn. I want her to hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I may as well want one of the other two for all the good it can do. Shit. The new image application that replaced my old software is working very well so far. I didn’t really need anything professional because I’m not fluent with image manipulation to begin with. All those programs cost money, the latest of which is actually by subscription only. There is no way I want to pay for something monthly that I use for very straightforward operations. I believe a good portion of the smooth operation is this computer, too. Oh, boy. Here comes Lilith to the scene. Watch yourselves. Anyway, all of the other software is fine and works five times as fast on this machine as it all did on the laptop. Maybe I’ve said it before, but this computer is absolutely fantastic. I don’t know what is in store for me today other than housework. I do need to take care of the laundry situation before it gets out of control, though. My usual chores will not take very long. And there she goes again... The neighbor. God damn, that girl is thin. I think I said that already. Anyway, I need to work in this office some more before taking on anything more dramatic. I’d like to get everything in order by Monday when the display arrives. And here we go, right down the rabbit hole again... Only partial knowledge is available to me because there are no ears, plus there has been plenty of analysis already and I’ve only answered two questions after all this time. I know a few things, but that’s it. The more I try to push, the less I understand ‘why’, and that is the most subjective fucking question of them all. There is not supposed to be any right or wrong about it, either. But it seems wrong. This morning is an ideal example of what the obsession and dreams have done to me. My mind has been spinning in circles for the last half hour. I can’t go into detail. What I will say is that some of this feeling has stemmed from bad things, whereas very little was born of good. Believe me, there have been good feelings – positives, if you will – in recent years. I have had more than one discussion regarding how difficult the current period can be at times. Earlier I was fine, but like many days spent in front of the cloud and IDE, my brain descended into the netherworld of the damaging dreams, visions in society, and missing pieces of both my inner being and life itself. I am going to have to push pretty hard to rise from this shit and be at least somewhat productive this morning. I really don’t like this feeling at all. Maybe if there was a way to know everything, I could more easily rationalize and/or deal with the issues involved with my quiet mornings. Another idea that comes to mind is that I do my best, clearest thinking during the early mornings, and due to such a fact my brain tries to understand the pain. I really wish I knew everything. Well, at least more than I already do. And no, I can’t spell out anything here or the end of the world will arrive at light speed. There is a clue in this image Maybe I shouldn’t be asking these questions at all. The sin entered a little while ago and gripped me for a short period. Those moments caused me to recall the girl in the store and then all sorts of things that I should not mention on the site (some already have been spelled out). The girl at the store causes much desire and then sends me back in time to those paired knees. The process is nearly instantaneous and has the power to distort my mind until damage occurs. The girl at the pool was more than three years ago and doesn’t show up in my head very often unless I think about the relationship between the girl in the store and the subject of those dreams, both of which cause the same level of need. I can’t believe that Jamie (no, not the one with whom I’ve been in love for years) was a relative newcomer to television, yet in this series appears completely nude. That is some fucking dedication and I have much respect for her placing herself out there for the camera. For me, her being nude in a few scenes is not something I prefer because my favorite part of her is the face. Believe it. The faces of the world are key. Anyway, Jamie aside, where the hell was I? Ah... The fact that I sit here and remember things which cause me pain, and then I feel the other pain, and then I dream of everything which is impossible. The catalysts are many, and I have to collate everything for a while so I can more easily deal with seeing one of those subjects. There was already enough going on before I went to the store and saw that tiny, amazing goddess. I didn’t need anything more piled on top of this shit. The sin is beginning to cause me to daydream again, none of which is healthy or moral. Trust me. Not good. Pause for the cause. Here I am again at 1033 and my routine is finished. Cocktail time. I have yet to tackle the dry cleaning but it will all be done by close of business, if not earlier. The damage has left me for a while. All those dreamy thoughts will return, though, and soon I fear. For the time being I plan to enjoy the peace and quiet. Well, other than the vampires gracing the right-hand display, that is. At some point we will be heading to the market for some staples. Otherwise, I’ll be here in the house taking care of whatever seems most pressing. Holy God is Nora ever something to see. The facial trait she displays is unrivaled in my history. I still can’t seem to adequately describe it, however. Maybe just looking at her is enough. So, another positive to having this desktop system is capturing images from the screen while there is media on the second monitor. The operating system makes it a snap to grab high resolution images, and then the new manipulation software allows me to quickly edit and include the resulting content within these entries. I fucking love it. Do you remember when I broke out the big camera and fastest lens to shoot the television screen? Well, I don’t have to do that anymore. And just wait until I switch back to the gangsters and fill a dozen essays with Jamie’s unparalleled beauty. Wait for it, people. Damn, the morning cocktail is yummy. Call me what you will. I still function just fine throughout the days at home. Once it is gone, I drink nothing but water until the proper hour which is typically near or after six in the evening. Alcoholic or not, I don’t care. The label these days is very subjective and does not take other factors into consideration. Everyone is lumped into the same category. Well, fuck that. I know what I am doing, especially when you consider the sheer amount of self-analysis throughout the last several years. The morning drinks will continue unimpeded. Now is not the time for me to cease anything that brings joy. Terry is fucking awesome. I just pulled an image from the show which carries a clue to the difficulty plaguing me since last year. I will edit and display the image within this entry. Good luck finding the clue. Holy shit do I ever love this new machine, not to mention the atmosphere inside the office since building my control center again. This is wonderful. Maybe the joy in sitting here again after so many years will eventually help me deal with all the other shit. And sometimes Luna is gorgeous. Sometimes. 1613. The trip to the market was smooth as glass. Upon returning, I organized everything and ran some dry cleaning. I also straightened the garage somewhat. Now I have some time to relax here in the control center until the time comes to prepare dinner. The other half of the dry cleaning may be done prior to close of business, but right now I need some clear thinking. My show is following along on the second display. And there is Nora wrapped in some very nice jeans. Wow. What a fucking stunning woman. A swirl of magic flows through me every time I see her beautiful face. Tomorrow we are heading across town for a dinner in my honor. Very nice. The football game is on Sunday, so I’ll have no worries about having to watch sporadically or during conversation. I planned the weekend this way due to the playoff games being scheduled as they have. I have lots of time to take care of whatever I need during the next two days. Monday is when things go back to normal. I will have the house to myself during the weekdays once again. There are many screen captures I wish to make and include here for the next several entries. The process is easier and more relaxing during quiet times. The computer and software makes capturing and processing very enjoyable. I don’t know if I want to venture back to the garage for the other load of dry cleaning. The weather is nice and clear, but also dry and cold, not to mention the breeze. This morning was tough. I made it through alright, and kept thinking of how difficult those times have become. Years ago I had similar arduous situations from time to time, but to be honest, the past few months have been worse. I believe the outline in that fateful entry from the summer of seventeen has worsened the way I see the world. Now that the damaging dreams have become daily thinking, that older entry has changed somewhat. What I mean to say is whatever I found appealing in society or on television now appears different, even more subjective than in the past, and much more painful to see and consider as I live through each day. There is no way I can spell this out, however. 0655 on Saturday morning. Today is my birthday. We will be heading across town for an early dinner this afternoon and I have to make a salad to bring along. Other than that, I have football to watch and words to type. Coffee, cats fed, vampires to the right. The morning time in this office is very nice. Rikki just demonstrated her dominance by biting Danielle’s neck. Just saying. Anyway, I plan to take it easy today and tomorrow. I’ll do my usual stuff and then work on the computer and streamline this office in anticipation of the third display appearing this coming Monday. That will be very nice. The tree and associated holiday decorations were all taken down and stored yesterday, so the living room looks boring, yet nice and neat. I want this room to follow suit. When the computer is powered down or sleeping, the monitors look like nothing more than big, black rectangles and tend to darken the entire room. I’d like to simplify this space to the point of it not looking cluttered. Working in this room is always nice and comfortable because my friends follow along, often bringing feelings from the past. All the way back to the end of the nineties when I first laid my hands on some Laserdiscs of the second show, there has been one manufactured comfortable space after another, meaning in each place I lived. The only exception was the cave. Too much turmoil and sadness attached. If I decide to improve the office later, those thoughts will be flowing through my head. And there is Nora. I need her to hug me. It’s only 0707 right now, but the hug would be nice because I already know that the morning mood is not under my control and may change at any time. Behind every line of code is sinful thinking, wishes, and images of positions and situations. None of it stops long enough for me to catch my breath. I must be careful. The hair-trigger cannot be tightened. I opened the blinds and there is frost on everything. Wow. The cold weather affects me more now than when I was younger, but there is no denying the beauty of a very clear sky during the mornings. Bill's office has my kind of decor, let me tell you. I love it Sometimes I want to scream everything. I very nearly did on a few occasions, too. I was close. The feeling of being desperate for someone to help became overwhelming and I began the process of relaying a bit of information that likely explained some of the reasons I am the way that I am. That situation soon went bad and I had to clam up before too much was transmitted to another person. I already know that no one will easily identify with how I think these days, and that tends to be the lion’s share of why I remain quiet (as well as here). The truth is that remaining bottled is important to me for two reasons. One, I am very fearful of the contents of my head being out there beyond my ability to contain it, and two, the inside of me is quite literally mine, and to share would mean giving too much away. Does that make sense? I don’t care. The fact is I almost opened the spillway to let the words flow and would have regretted all of it. Holy Jesus does Nora have a picturesque rear end in jeans. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I did speak some and still feel that I made a mistake, even years later. As such, I can’t fucking do it again. That is not to say that I don’t feel a strong need to spill myself in the hope that someone will understand and/or help a little. I see people out there going to work almost every morning upon opening the blinds. When I see them, I am glad I don’t have to go anywhere. Ah, shit. There is that guy that I can’t fucking stand, and I can’t even state the reasons (there are two). Whatever. I have to take the bad with the good if I’m going to sit and watch an HBO series, right? Hmm... Oh, yes... The people going to work. I have to say that since last month, the thought of going out there in the cold and visiting places I’d rather avoid is even less comfortable than ever. I don’t have to go anywhere, either. The most important aspect of this situation is remaining mindful of my time being almost completely under my own control, something of which I dreamed for many years. Appreciating the fact that I can sit here in the morning with my coffee and look out the window at others going to work is a positive that I must hold dear. If I forget or begin to take this circumstance for granted, everything could be lost. 0748. The feelings are moving me downward, as if weight is slowly being placed upon my shoulders while I sit here. I believe the damaging dreams combined with the appearance of the girl at the store the other day are causing years-old desire to return to my head, yet my world is so different now that the only result is disappointment. Back then, I had hope that things could change if I remained positive and mindful of others. Now? I’ve realized that was all a bunch of shit and I’ve been affected to the point of knowing nothing will ever be as it was in the past. I am older, but that does not make any difference. What has caused the largest gradient is the resulting situation from the way I’ve been considered by some people. I am vastly different than just five years ago, most of the changes being negative. My reaction to that tiny beauty in the store would not have been as overwhelming one decade ago. I have felt a strong desire on and off each day since visiting that store. I honestly don’t know if the trip was worth it or not. I can’t stop picturing her in ways that fulfill my obsession with lines, nor can I turn off my desire for the other one, and both are related. Directly, to be sure. I can’t say in what way, though. I’m already far enough into this evil, sinful line of thinking. Several paragraphs up to this point have had me walking to the edge of the cliff and I need to remember that stepping off is permanent. The subject is rather like my stinginess with music. The material that is really important to me can’t be shared with another person because I am too specific with the guidelines of listening. This is just an example, mind you. When someone asks about music I like, I offer almost nothing. The fear is that the media will be beyond my control once it is shared, and if it is not respected and heard in the correct ‘context’, the compositions can lose importance. I simply can’t have that. The information in the previous paragraph has me at the edge, but I can’t go further even though I really need to share it all. Once the information is in someone else’s mind, I have no way of getting it back. Moreover, considering the sensitive nature of what has been going through my mind, there could also be danger involved. For me, that is. I have a head full of sinful dreams. Trust me, this is not good and must remain completely under my control or the entire shitaree will go to hell. Whew. 0810. I am still on my second cup of coffee. Number three will be very soon. I grabbed an image from the show and placed it just above this section. The wide shot shows off the way the office was decorated, a theme I absolutely love and have since first watching this many years ago. Other people have never understood my taste in room decor, likely due to darkness. I don’t like skylights, light pipes, or any other natural sources which maintain a minimum light level inside a house. I understand them, however, as the point is to reduce the need to turn on electric lights. That makes sense. For me, the image above hits the nail almost squarely on the head with the sconces, dark wallpaper (yes, I still appreciate wallpaper), and the furnishings all being dark and exotic. I am not an idiot, of course, and realize this is a television program full of supernatural shit, but the fact remains the room was built and staged right close to my taste in colors and materials. I always enjoy seeing lots of woodwork and such, thin shears on the windows framed by very heavy, dark drapes to control light, and patterned rugs on wood floors. All that stuff appeals to me and I have never lived within such a space. The closest was my house. We decorated about halfway to what I really love to compromise on the rooms not becoming too dark, yet still the colors and warmth were beautiful and very present, mainly in the living room. Bill’s office in the image above is the epitome of darkness, likely because he was the king, lived during the nights, and of course... He was a vampire. The top image that I captured from the show does indeed hold a clue, but the reason for the scene in question and the topic of what was being said have nothing to do with the sinful thinking. Jackson was guiding the group toward a choice in life, one between being an individual werewolf versus that of the ‘pack’. I need not think about such things because the entire series is based upon supernatural beings. Whether or not they may exist (or ever did) is not a concern. As I stated above, part of me needs to spill it and reveal the meaning of the clue. I can’t do that, unfortunately, because the whole kingdom will come crashing down upon my tired head. I don’t need that shit. Perhaps someone can glean the meaning, and perhaps no one has the ability to learn of it. Either way, I will say nothing further about that image. Just know there is a clue. 0900 is approaching, meaning I will move away from this soon and begin to take care of the house. We don’t have to go anywhere for several hours. I have lots of time... Just what I need these days. The routine will be short like yesterday and then maybe I can finish the second load of dry cleaning and do some laundry to free up my Sunday for the games. Damn, I had to throw the blinds for a little while because this office faces east and the sun came beaming into my eyes. The table is against the window, so for the next half hour or so I can’t see outside. I never liked the faerie that was ‘in charge’ of the rest. She had nice hair and was quite tall, yet she also had one of those faces. You know... Yikes. ‘Stay away from her’. Heh. Some of the other faeries are absolutely DREAMY beyond comprehension. Trust me, a few are fucking amazing. Too bad the principal character is not all that great. Whatever. The good with the bad, and all that crap. Oy, Holly is fucking annoying sometimes. Nice big eyes, but ooh-fa, she is scary and representative of so many personality traits which push me away that I don’t even know where to start. Anyway, I’ve been noting some of the episodes and times for later research and image capturing so I can splay the beauty all over the site. I love it when Eric raises his voice. Talk about a commanding tone? The best. I wish I had that kind of power, but alas he is a thousand years old. Rikki is a cunt, but Bailey will be on the screen soon so everything remains balanced. Heh. As much as I have wished for the ability to just fucking gush everything, at the same time there is a part of me that wishes for nothing more than an end to feeling all of the desire and other shit related to the obsession. That’s right... I don’t want to feel these things. I don’t want to see a form and lose my shit over and over, and then sit here and type tons of words that say almost nothing. I don’t fucking like it, but I have nothing else in the world. My living situation is very comfortable at times, and that is all. The inside of my head is a blender most of the time and there is nothing I can do to shut it off. At least, I haven’t found any coping methods. Ugh... There he is again. I can’t stand that guy. Bad with the good. Anyway, I honestly believe that though gushing to someone is appealing because there is a chance of relief (or understanding), the truth is I would slowly be chewed up inside after revealing such personal and intimate details about the way I think these days. The more comfortable path would be to extricate all this shit and burn it to ash. Well, I can’t do that because I don’t know how. This content, much like my brain, will continue to go in circles. Jesus, Hoyt... You ok? She has one hell of a pair of breasts. Shoot me. I don’t care. What I wouldn’t give to see them free of clothing and right in front of me... My imagination has gone wild with such thinking. I know what is going on inside, too. I already know and wish I didn’t. I have seen the evidence and could not fucking believe my hungry eyes. I am not kidding. She moves just a bit and the appearance becomes overpowering. I really wish I did not know these things, but the damage has been done and I have seen too much, too often. The vision of her on Christmas was nearly too much to bear and now I can’t forget it no matter what the average day may have in store for me. Jesus fucking hell, they are amazing. I need to see everything so badly that sometimes I can’t think straight. Again, just shoot me. This is how I feel and there is no stopping the processes in my brain. The girl at the electronics store only added fuel to the fire though her chest was barely noticeable. I am a crazy person. I want her. Well, both of them. Mark my words, there is absolutely nothing about this situation that is positive. Nothing. 0940 is the time and I poured myself a glass of whiskey because the sinful thoughts are running rampant inside me. The alcohol will calm me somewhat. I need it, and if that labels me, so be it. My little world is important to me and the morning cocktail is an integral part of life. One more time... Shoot me. I want many things in this world, and her breasts are way up the fucking list. There is no point in asking why I have a drink this early every day. No point whatsoever. Just go up and read the previous paragraph. God damn do I ever want her. I’ll have to begin the routine shortly. For the time being, I do need to make sure the house remains quiet, but I can work here and there without much noise. And I remembered that I have to do some sewing on a pair of pants prior to dry cleaning them. Oops. I can do that either today or tomorrow. I also need to run some laundry, but my time is all my own and I need it this way. In and around whatever I accomplish, I shall return to this control center and gush my feelings for all things impossible. Such is me. Splendid. I love this office setup so much that I still can’t believe I’ve been able to build the thing. Believe me, I appreciate this every second of every day. Well, when I’m not dreaming of pulling off her shirt, that is. Anyway, when the third display arrives, I am going to be over the moon in this office. I just love it to no end. Don’t even get me started about typing on one of the finest keyboards ever manufactured. Awesome. I only wish I could build something as wonderful to repair the inside of my fucking head. Ugh. Breasts. Warm and waiting. Kill me, help me, something. I suppose if I’m going to end up in an asylum, I may as well have a nice office and computer on which to write a letter for requesting a reservation. Laugh it up, dipshits. This is my life. What? Housework on my birthday? That’s what I do. I have the laundry rolling but still need to keep the house quiet. I received some birthday wishes via text messages and emails, too. That is very nice of people. To be completely honest, the one occasion that stands out these days is the trip we took five years ago. The destinations were entirely up to me, of course, and included the Sea because I wished to carry the big camera to that place again for the purpose of creating more positive memories. The previous trip had been wrought with turmoil. Five years ago was totally different, too, and accomplished my intentions in spades. I wanted to repeat that vacation this year but the fucking finances are not as they were back then. Maybe next year I will again be able to visit that wondrous part of the state comfortably. My fiftieth birthday was a fucking pooch-screw, to be sure. I contracted a very short-lived virus for three days and the middle day was my birthday, believe it or not. There was to be a surprise gathering at one of my favorite restaurants, too. I had no idea. The whole shitaree had to be canceled, though, and my special day rolled backward into history with exactly zero fanfare. That was six years ago and I still feel it. Fifty is a milestone, and despite me downplaying the importance, having to cancel the occasion really hurt. It still does. And with that thought, I have just decided that next year we are taking a trip to Palm Desert once again. I loved that vacation and must repeat it. That is that. End of discussion. Oh, a year’s time may seem far into the future, but rest assured the months will fly by. We will lodge at the same place, visit the same restaurants (if they are still in operation), and again drive around the Sea. One note on that trip five years ago... Palm Desert was cut short by two nights because we left early and drove to the goblet. I don’t think that will happen again, however. Vegas is a gigantic money-sucking machine and I do not want to be reckless. Two nights back then were plenty. We had two great dinners, some relaxing time to look around, and then switched the car rental around so we could fly home instead of drive six hundred miles. I probably went over this in the past. I guess I loved that wondrous vacation too much to avoid mentioning it again, plus today is my birthday and my mind has been driven to more enjoyable times. My hands are cold. I can think of two objects that could warm them. A pair of beautiful breasts all snug and toasty within an unlined bra. Fuck it. Completely losing my mind is but a matter of time. 1328. I made the salad to bring to my birthday dinner and finished the laundry. The routine is also finished. All I have to do now is wait an hour to leave. The idea to stop by the bar was suggested, but considering the amount of virus infections lately, I don’t believe it is a good idea. A distraction from my sordid existence would be nice, though. Today is a reminder of all that is missing and I don’t fucking like it. My head is mired in shit right now. Leaving the house for a while and having dinner with people who love me should help somewhat. I can hope, anyway. My world is so far off kilter that I can barely type the words. The first playoff game just started so I should move away from this machine and watch until we leave. 0710 on Sunday, January 22nd of the new year. Here I sit with coffee and vampires. I fed the cats and made sure everything was in order this morning. My birthday dinner was very nice. Gifts, a bit of a boost from where I was just a few hours earlier, and then back home to relax. And now here I am again within the quiet with my coffee and friends. I never went to spend time in the garage last night after coming home from dinner. My neighbor was going to visit and then had to work. I didn’t feel like going outside and sitting in the cold. Back in November I expressed the idea that my mood was pretty pasty and the day of my birth would be very harsh. Well, I didn’t feel that way last night. I was tired and full of concern, but not to the point of being driven to swing the hammer. The previous event turned to shit, as well. I am beginning to think that my only recourse in the world is to sit in this chair. And that brings a reminder. Do you remember ‘The Chair, the Project, and the Perpetual Aftermath’? I do. This is not the same chair but in the same location and for the same purpose. Does that mean this is the aftermath? Still? I calculated the idea when that essay was published almost five years ago. During that period I was miserable. The feelings were a little different than those I experience these days, and that is to say I did not become angry due to sights or desire. Mostly I was depressed and closed off, yet some disdain was born of being in the workforce and realizing that I had been stuck in a week to week cycle of which I did not see a way out. The garage was not the ‘receptacle’ that it has become during the last few months. There are two situations which have come about in the last calendar year (a bit less, actually) which have created different patterns of thought and a very truncated outlook. I used to believe I was going nowhere, but now I know it. This office is going to become my entire world very soon. Realizing such a fact means the garage lashing will not seem the same in the future, and I believe my head went through the permutations yesterday and I lost the desire to do anything aside from sitting and thinking. Further, the dreams last year have come to mind several times each day for months, entered my sleep time and caused all sorts of physical and emotional issues, and have left me sitting here yearning in directions I never could have imagined a year ago. I think the garage time last night would have caused my emotions to flare, and the bottom line would have been me at the computer this morning completely filled with regret instead of where I am at this moment. That is a place in which I can think and attempt to understand everything. I’ve had two faces in my head since yesterday, one of which visited me in the middle of the night and kept me awake for over an hour when I should have otherwise been sleeping. I only rose from bed to use the bathroom, but upon returning? Bad. I could not calm my head for quite a while. This morning is a little better, though. I just needed to get that smile out of my brain for some hours so I could rest. There are times when she will not leave me alone. This is a very bad situation. I don’t know what I can do other than just live with it, but if you know me at all, such an idea goes more against the grain than any other. Not good. I still see her smiling at me. Oh, Nora. Please hold me MS’s little backup system really fucked up my shit this morning. I don’t want anything happening on this machine automatically, damn it. They push this crap and then files begin to backup while the computer is in use, and then a little while later things begin to disappear from the explorer window. I can’t have that. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to straighten everything and remove the backup software. I can’t fucking stand anything that comes already installed on the computer. I’d rather pick the applications myself. Assholes. They want to control the universe and make everyone use their shit, yet the process is very off-putting. I, for one, do not appreciate such moves. And I don’t want this brand new system all clogged with shit that some company thinks I should be using. Everyone can fuck all the way off. Well, mostly just one software company. Believe me, the operating system is fantastic. I just don’t want it all fucked up. 0916 and I am still sitting here with my last cup of coffee. Today is Sunday, so I’ll be taking care of the usual stuff and the garbage, too. I’ll get started in the next half hour or so. I wasted so much time trying to undo all the backup bullshit that I basically ceased typing here for nearly an hour and lost my train of thought. If the muse returns, that’s fine. If not, I’ll come back later and describe the very exciting housework with a cocktail. Heh. The Goddamned software... This shit goes all the way back to the nineties when Netscape tried to sue AOL. Or was it the other way around? I can’t remember. I worked right down the street from both of those companies and loved to see their logos on the buildings. Now? I am detached. Anyway, soon I’ll move out of the office and think about my day. I need to keep in mind that the game is this afternoon, too. I’d like to have everything in order prior to kickoff. Aside from shopping trips, I am literally completely cut off from society. I barely communicate on the phone anymore (and some snubbed me on my birthday) and do not go to any social gatherings no matter the occasion. In this office I am the controller, writer, site administrator and thinker. Out there? I am no one. I prefer it this way. Oh, I almost forgot. I am also a victim. All the guys will be at the bar for the games today. Of that there can be no doubt, yet I will not attend. I can’t take that kind of risk these days, nor do I wish to be around people who are reckless with their behavior while the world is still suffering from a pandemic. I will remain here, nice and comfortable, and surrounded by those devices I need so much. The energy at the bar during the playoffs is amazing, too. Last season, I was there until the end (even the Super Bowl despite my team not achieving it) and enjoyed myself for the most part. I must admit that this office is a good portion of my desire to stay home all the time. I feel more connected to the Internet on this machine than I did with the laptop. I don’t know why, but perhaps my office is a reminder of years ago when I sat here and contemplated everything. I could always count on some comfort in this chair even when my head was all fucked up. Arliss is about to run aslant of Bill, and that is unwise. Oh, well. I am going to keep the house nice and quiet for the time being. My housework will not take long, meaning I can pour my typical drink in a little while and work at my desired pace. Ugh... Nora is not well, nor is she long for this world. That makes me sad, although this program is fictional. Anyway, I have to mend the pants today so I can toss them in the dryer to clean, and then maybe I can put together a load of wash so Monday is free for other endeavors. I will probably run the first playoff game in the background as I move around the house and garage. Sundays are very nice. ‘Well done, baby vampire’. Eric is awesome. There is some dialog coming soon which I have to quote here, albeit without body language or sound. It’s one of my favorite moments of the entire series and I can relate, believe it or not. Again... He is awesome. 1006. Almost cocktail time. Sarah is a whack-job, but also an awesome character. Monday morning, 0758. Here we go gathering nuts in January. Yesterday came and went. I finished everything intended and watched both games. Very exciting. Today already feels rewarding because I have the hours to myself and a peaceful atmosphere. Time is under my control. Out the window I have seen people driving to work after likely enjoying the weekend. I don’t have to do that and think about such a fact every weekday morning without fail. I need to work in the office for a while once my routine is finished because the third display should be arriving sometime later today. Months ago I calculated that once the control center was complete, I would work to streamline the other two main hobbies in order to shore up my belongings. The fact is I will be focusing upon this machine most of the time and do not need to throw money at it, unlike the truck or other interests. This is to be the main focus of my time, so everything else can be organized or stored without worry. I have the show to my right and some coffee left. This will be the norm for the next hour or so. I used to loathe Monday mornings because of going to work (although I was accustomed to it as the ‘norm’) and tried to appreciate Sundays to the fullest for the same reason. Now? Monday is my first quiet period of the week. I cannot stress that enough. Nora is in bad shape and it breaks my heart. I love her. There are lines within the opening sequence of this program. Splendid. I’ve been seeing them for years, yet still my head goes slightly sideways at the sight. I recall those moments of the past when the lines were right in front of my face. A few occasions had me there... Precisely where I needed to be. None of that exists anymore, unfortunately, but I keep dreaming nonetheless. This is not good because the more time that passes, the further out of balance I become. It is daily, to be honest. And though this morning does not feel very troubling, I am certain everything will come back like a storm and fuck up my brain. It is only a matter of time, or possibly the sight of something. Um... Like the girl. I have to leave that subject alone for a while or I will completely derail the clock today. I really don't want that to happen because the most likely outcome is anger. Very bad. 0903. I’ll be starting my routine very soon. If I decide to head across town for the smog test, I’ll probably take care of half my work prior to leaving, much like when I shop at the market during the morning. Returning home is always very nice after accomplishing something. I can have my cocktail and media while cleaning the kitchen. The very thought of being home after a trip out helps to keep my head up for a while. My head is often full of her. Not so much this morning (so far), though. I went on a little tangent about her chest and that was more than I would normally have said here. Sometimes the desire gets the best of me and my words are guided by those past situations of which I dream daily. This whole thing began with Ashley, and thanks to the passage of so many years, I was eventually able to minimize the amount of time spent dwelling on how much I missed being near her. That doll returned to my head when I nearly lost my shit seeing the one at the pool. Not the older sister (I believe), but the younger. She may have been right around Ashley’s age, too. But the sight, the lines right fucking there with zero clothing covering them is what drove me up the wall. That was the only occasion of such a form with nearly no fabric whatsoever, and a person close enough to my eyes for me to see actual detail. Recently I went on about the girl and the fact that I know the lines are inside her pants, most of that desperate yearning having stemmed from the fucking pool. Now? I’ll probably never see anything like that thong on display, and a repeat is about as likely as seeing the real lines on the other girl. This is all so fucking convoluted that I still can’t believe the condition of my mind. An hour at that pool fucked me up for all time. 0930. My coffee is almost gone. I’ll have to take care of some business very soon so my morning doesn’t go downhill like yesterday. End of line." 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January 23rd, 2023 9:32am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Sinful Mind-full read ( words) "1422. I took care of one smog test a little while ago. One down, one to go. I can have my car tested anytime because the time is always available. I don’t know what else I may do around the house for the remainder of business hours, though. Driving up the highway for the test took less time than I would have thought, yet due to going out for a bit I really don’t feel like accomplishing anything this afternoon. The car being tested was also a test for me. Sometimes I don’t feel like being around other people, so heading out the door and being among society can be quite a trial. I made it, though, and am proud of myself for taking care of some business beyond the norm today. The car registrations are but once a year, anyway. Not that big of a deal. The show is once again gracing the right-hand display and I have lots of time to myself for continuing whatever the hell this has become. So, where was I? Sin. Not the video game, either. The real thing. One of my neighbors up the street is REALLY thin. She birthed a baby around a year ago or so, and prior to being pregnant she appeared closer to ‘average’ in weight and form. Now? She walks by almost daily and waves to me, and I look back at her wondering if her caloric intake is too low. Geez Louise, that girl is thin. And here she comes again with the doggie and toddler. So thin. Just something I think about from time to time. Sometimes I wish I had not left the goblet after that first trip. The ensuing years were rife with obsession, yearning and wondering if I could ever fill the holes inside me. Prior to visiting Vegas in zero-three, I did not think in such terms nearly as often. I just don’t know. ‘I’m makin’ breakfast. Want some eggs?’ ‘Eggs? Why don’t you put on your fuckin’ pants.’ I just realized one of the reasons I still watch this show. During the late zeros and a few years after the turn of the decade, low-rise jeans were still very popular. Now? High-rise and beyond. That fucking style should have never made it out of the seventies. Horrible. Oh, and the dialog above is not from my current program. I just wanted to make that clear. The issue is the fucking style of pants these days. The seventies had many positives in my eyes, most notably some of the home decor and woodwork seen in houses that were built prior to that decade. Fashion was definitely a negative. To me, anyway. And now it looks much worse than during the seventies. Much, much worse. The realm continues to encapsulate me no matter what I may be typing, as if the background thoughts are becoming permanent. I mentioned the neighbor because not only is she really thin, but is also quite often wrapped in tight-fitting pants that hide absolutely nothing. I don’t feel THAT way about her, however. The pants are a reminder of everything else, most notably of the girl in the store even though she was wearing jeans. The lines are key. If I don’t see a hint of those most beautiful representations of form, there is little worry. Sometimes I suspect they are present, yet there is no way of knowing. Her lines were right there in the well-lit video department. The combination of her position facing away from me and the fact that she was standing with her feet together completely skyrocketed the appearance of her lines. And she was tiny, not likely a quarter of an inch beyond five feet in height. The entire picture was stunning. My sinful thinking is at an all-time high and she is a good portion of the reason. Keep in mind that she is just a person and was standing there doing her job. A person... Above all things. I do not wish to affect anyone, ever. I stared for seconds and then walked away. Between the first sight of her and the act of climbing into my car, all sorts of situations were manufactured at high speed and tattooed to my brain. Some of those situations were very erotic. If we go back to the damaging dreams and more recent visions, a similar result is apparent. The differences cannot be revealed, unfortunately. The realm is becoming my god. Of that there can be no doubt any longer. 1715 and here I am once again. I restocked some items and did a general straightening of the dining room since it doubles as a partial pantry these days. A second polish of the kitchen is also finished. While working out there I actually missed sitting here in front of the control center. The morning is my favorite, though. The quiet nature of this room combined with hot coffee is really comforting, even when the subject matter seems to be out of control. 0703 on Friday morning. Coffee, cats fed, and the show over there on what is soon to be the second display of three. I received a notification this morning that the third display will arrive on Monday, for sure. The tip was to let me know it may be here that early, but the shipping information does not lie. I have no idea what I was dreaming this morning. Something about the Waterpik I set up last night, and then being involved in a combat situation while riding a flight simulator that was about to do a corkscrew and harm people beneath the machinery. What was going through my head to cause such strange dreams is beyond me. Oh, there is Nora again. What a beauty. Why couldn’t I have dreamed of her? Maybe a few moments of holding hands? I need that, especially from one of those with whom I seem to have a heartfelt connection (just me, not them). The combat was very odd, as if the science fiction rubbed off on what I had been thinking prior to sleep. Aliens? I don’t know. At least the girls didn’t appear to me again. I don’t need that shit right now. As things stand, I am already straining myself for more visions and yearning to see the tiniest detail which can lend support to the near-complete oil paintings in my brain. Dreaming about odd circumstances or situations is fine. Nora is tipsy and adorable. Damn. I want her to hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I may as well want one of the other two for all the good it can do. Shit. The new image application that replaced my old software is working very well so far. I didn’t really need anything professional because I’m not fluent with image manipulation to begin with. All those programs cost money, the latest of which is actually by subscription only. There is no way I want to pay for something monthly that I use for very straightforward operations. I believe a good portion of the smooth operation is this computer, too. Oh, boy. Here comes Lilith to the scene. Watch yourselves. Anyway, all of the other software is fine and works five times as fast on this machine as it all did on the laptop. Maybe I’ve said it before, but this computer is absolutely fantastic. I don’t know what is in store for me today other than housework. I do need to take care of the laundry situation before it gets out of control, though. My usual chores will not take very long. And there she goes again... The neighbor. God damn, that girl is thin. I think I said that already. Anyway, I need to work in this office some more before taking on anything more dramatic. I’d like to get everything in order by Monday when the display arrives. And here we go, right down the rabbit hole again... Only partial knowledge is available to me because there are no ears, plus there has been plenty of analysis already and I’ve only answered two questions after all this time. I know a few things, but that’s it. The more I try to push, the less I understand ‘why’, and that is the most subjective fucking question of them all. There is not supposed to be any right or wrong about it, either. But it seems wrong. This morning is an ideal example of what the obsession and dreams have done to me. My mind has been spinning in circles for the last half hour. I can’t go into detail. What I will say is that some of this feeling has stemmed from bad things, whereas very little was born of good. Believe me, there have been good feelings – positives, if you will – in recent years. I have had more than one discussion regarding how difficult the current period can be at times. Earlier I was fine, but like many days spent in front of the cloud and IDE, my brain descended into the netherworld of the damaging dreams, visions in society, and missing pieces of both my inner being and life itself. I am going to have to push pretty hard to rise from this shit and be at least somewhat productive this morning. I really don’t like this feeling at all. Maybe if there was a way to know everything, I could more easily rationalize and/or deal with the issues involved with my quiet mornings. Another idea that comes to mind is that I do my best, clearest thinking during the early mornings, and due to such a fact my brain tries to understand the pain. I really wish I knew everything. Well, at least more than I already do. And no, I can’t spell out anything here or the end of the world will arrive at light speed. There is a clue in this image Maybe I shouldn’t be asking these questions at all. The sin entered a little while ago and gripped me for a short period. Those moments caused me to recall the girl in the store and then all sorts of things that I should not mention on the site (some already have been spelled out). The girl at the store causes much desire and then sends me back in time to those paired knees. The process is nearly instantaneous and has the power to distort my mind until damage occurs. The girl at the pool was more than three years ago and doesn’t show up in my head very often unless I think about the relationship between the girl in the store and the subject of those dreams, both of which cause the same level of need. I can’t believe that Jamie (no, not the one with whom I’ve been in love for years) was a relative newcomer to television, yet in this series appears completely nude. That is some fucking dedication and I have much respect for her placing herself out there for the camera. For me, her being nude in a few scenes is not something I prefer because my favorite part of her is the face. Believe it. The faces of the world are key. Anyway, Jamie aside, where the hell was I? Ah... The fact that I sit here and remember things which cause me pain, and then I feel the other pain, and then I dream of everything which is impossible. The catalysts are many, and I have to collate everything for a while so I can more easily deal with seeing one of those subjects. There was already enough going on before I went to the store and saw that tiny, amazing goddess. I didn’t need anything more piled on top of this shit. The sin is beginning to cause me to daydream again, none of which is healthy or moral. Trust me. Not good. Pause for the cause. Here I am again at 1033 and my routine is finished. Cocktail time. I have yet to tackle the dry cleaning but it will all be done by close of business, if not earlier. The damage has left me for a while. All those dreamy thoughts will return, though, and soon I fear. For the time being I plan to enjoy the peace and quiet. Well, other than the vampires gracing the right-hand display, that is. At some point we will be heading to the market for some staples. Otherwise, I’ll be here in the house taking care of whatever seems most pressing. Holy God is Nora ever something to see. The facial trait she displays is unrivaled in my history. I still can’t seem to adequately describe it, however. Maybe just looking at her is enough. So, another positive to having this desktop system is capturing images from the screen while there is media on the second monitor. The operating system makes it a snap to grab high resolution images, and then the new manipulation software allows me to quickly edit and include the resulting content within these entries. I fucking love it. Do you remember when I broke out the big camera and fastest lens to shoot the television screen? Well, I don’t have to do that anymore. And just wait until I switch back to the gangsters and fill a dozen essays with Jamie’s unparalleled beauty. Wait for it, people. Damn, the morning cocktail is yummy. Call me what you will. I still function just fine throughout the days at home. Once it is gone, I drink nothing but water until the proper hour which is typically near or after six in the evening. Alcoholic or not, I don’t care. The label these days is very subjective and does not take other factors into consideration. Everyone is lumped into the same category. Well, fuck that. I know what I am doing, especially when you consider the sheer amount of self-analysis throughout the last several years. The morning drinks will continue unimpeded. Now is not the time for me to cease anything that brings joy. Terry is fucking awesome. I just pulled an image from the show which carries a clue to the difficulty plaguing me since last year. I will edit and display the image within this entry. Good luck finding the clue. Holy shit do I ever love this new machine, not to mention the atmosphere inside the office since building my control center again. This is wonderful. Maybe the joy in sitting here again after so many years will eventually help me deal with all the other shit. And sometimes Luna is gorgeous. Sometimes. 1613. The trip to the market was smooth as glass. Upon returning, I organized everything and ran some dry cleaning. I also straightened the garage somewhat. Now I have some time to relax here in the control center until the time comes to prepare dinner. The other half of the dry cleaning may be done prior to close of business, but right now I need some clear thinking. My show is following along on the second display. And there is Nora wrapped in some very nice jeans. Wow. What a fucking stunning woman. A swirl of magic flows through me every time I see her beautiful face. Tomorrow we are heading across town for a dinner in my honor. Very nice. The football game is on Sunday, so I’ll have no worries about having to watch sporadically or during conversation. I planned the weekend this way due to the playoff games being scheduled as they have. I have lots of time to take care of whatever I need during the next two days. Monday is when things go back to normal. I will have the house to myself during the weekdays once again. There are many screen captures I wish to make and include here for the next several entries. The process is easier and more relaxing during quiet times. The computer and software makes capturing and processing very enjoyable. I don’t know if I want to venture back to the garage for the other load of dry cleaning. The weather is nice and clear, but also dry and cold, not to mention the breeze. This morning was tough. I made it through alright, and kept thinking of how difficult those times have become. Years ago I had similar arduous situations from time to time, but to be honest, the past few months have been worse. I believe the outline in that fateful entry from the summer of seventeen has worsened the way I see the world. Now that the damaging dreams have become daily thinking, that older entry has changed somewhat. What I mean to say is whatever I found appealing in society or on television now appears different, even more subjective than in the past, and much more painful to see and consider as I live through each day. There is no way I can spell this out, however. 0655 on Saturday morning. Today is my birthday. We will be heading across town for an early dinner this afternoon and I have to make a salad to bring along. Other than that, I have football to watch and words to type. Coffee, cats fed, vampires to the right. The morning time in this office is very nice. Rikki just demonstrated her dominance by biting Danielle’s neck. Just saying. Anyway, I plan to take it easy today and tomorrow. I’ll do my usual stuff and then work on the computer and streamline this office in anticipation of the third display appearing this coming Monday. That will be very nice. The tree and associated holiday decorations were all taken down and stored yesterday, so the living room looks boring, yet nice and neat. I want this room to follow suit. When the computer is powered down or sleeping, the monitors look like nothing more than big, black rectangles and tend to darken the entire room. I’d like to simplify this space to the point of it not looking cluttered. Working in this room is always nice and comfortable because my friends follow along, often bringing feelings from the past. All the way back to the end of the nineties when I first laid my hands on some Laserdiscs of the second show, there has been one manufactured comfortable space after another, meaning in each place I lived. The only exception was the cave. Too much turmoil and sadness attached. If I decide to improve the office later, those thoughts will be flowing through my head. And there is Nora. I need her to hug me. It’s only 0707 right now, but the hug would be nice because I already know that the morning mood is not under my control and may change at any time. Behind every line of code is sinful thinking, wishes, and images of positions and situations. None of it stops long enough for me to catch my breath. I must be careful. The hair-trigger cannot be tightened. I opened the blinds and there is frost on everything. Wow. The cold weather affects me more now than when I was younger, but there is no denying the beauty of a very clear sky during the mornings. Bill's office has my kind of decor, let me tell you. I love it Sometimes I want to scream everything. I very nearly did on a few occasions, too. I was close. The feeling of being desperate for someone to help became overwhelming and I began the process of relaying a bit of information that likely explained some of the reasons I am the way that I am. That situation soon went bad and I had to clam up before too much was transmitted to another person. I already know that no one will easily identify with how I think these days, and that tends to be the lion’s share of why I remain quiet (as well as here). The truth is that remaining bottled is important to me for two reasons. One, I am very fearful of the contents of my head being out there beyond my ability to contain it, and two, the inside of me is quite literally mine, and to share would mean giving too much away. Does that make sense? I don’t care. The fact is I almost opened the spillway to let the words flow and would have regretted all of it. Holy Jesus does Nora have a picturesque rear end in jeans. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I did speak some and still feel that I made a mistake, even years later. As such, I can’t fucking do it again. That is not to say that I don’t feel a strong need to spill myself in the hope that someone will understand and/or help a little. I see people out there going to work almost every morning upon opening the blinds. When I see them, I am glad I don’t have to go anywhere. Ah, shit. There is that guy that I can’t fucking stand, and I can’t even state the reasons (there are two). Whatever. I have to take the bad with the good if I’m going to sit and watch an HBO series, right? Hmm... Oh, yes... The people going to work. I have to say that since last month, the thought of going out there in the cold and visiting places I’d rather avoid is even less comfortable than ever. I don’t have to go anywhere, either. The most important aspect of this situation is remaining mindful of my time being almost completely under my own control, something of which I dreamed for many years. Appreciating the fact that I can sit here in the morning with my coffee and look out the window at others going to work is a positive that I must hold dear. If I forget or begin to take this circumstance for granted, everything could be lost. 0748. The feelings are moving me downward, as if weight is slowly being placed upon my shoulders while I sit here. I believe the damaging dreams combined with the appearance of the girl at the store the other day are causing years-old desire to return to my head, yet my world is so different now that the only result is disappointment. Back then, I had hope that things could change if I remained positive and mindful of others. Now? I’ve realized that was all a bunch of shit and I’ve been affected to the point of knowing nothing will ever be as it was in the past. I am older, but that does not make any difference. What has caused the largest gradient is the resulting situation from the way I’ve been considered by some people. I am vastly different than just five years ago, most of the changes being negative. My reaction to that tiny beauty in the store would not have been as overwhelming one decade ago. I have felt a strong desire on and off each day since visiting that store. I honestly don’t know if the trip was worth it or not. I can’t stop picturing her in ways that fulfill my obsession with lines, nor can I turn off my desire for the other one, and both are related. Directly, to be sure. I can’t say in what way, though. I’m already far enough into this evil, sinful line of thinking. Several paragraphs up to this point have had me walking to the edge of the cliff and I need to remember that stepping off is permanent. The subject is rather like my stinginess with music. The material that is really important to me can’t be shared with another person because I am too specific with the guidelines of listening. This is just an example, mind you. When someone asks about music I like, I offer almost nothing. The fear is that the media will be beyond my control once it is shared, and if it is not respected and heard in the correct ‘context’, the compositions can lose importance. I simply can’t have that. The information in the previous paragraph has me at the edge, but I can’t go further even though I really need to share it all. Once the information is in someone else’s mind, I have no way of getting it back. Moreover, considering the sensitive nature of what has been going through my mind, there could also be danger involved. For me, that is. I have a head full of sinful dreams. Trust me, this is not good and must remain completely under my control or the entire shitaree will go to hell. Whew. 0810. I am still on my second cup of coffee. Number three will be very soon. I grabbed an image from the show and placed it just above this section. The wide shot shows off the way the office was decorated, a theme I absolutely love and have since first watching this many years ago. Other people have never understood my taste in room decor, likely due to darkness. I don’t like skylights, light pipes, or any other natural sources which maintain a minimum light level inside a house. I understand them, however, as the point is to reduce the need to turn on electric lights. That makes sense. For me, the image above hits the nail almost squarely on the head with the sconces, dark wallpaper (yes, I still appreciate wallpaper), and the furnishings all being dark and exotic. I am not an idiot, of course, and realize this is a television program full of supernatural shit, but the fact remains the room was built and staged right close to my taste in colors and materials. I always enjoy seeing lots of woodwork and such, thin shears on the windows framed by very heavy, dark drapes to control light, and patterned rugs on wood floors. All that stuff appeals to me and I have never lived within such a space. The closest was my house. We decorated about halfway to what I really love to compromise on the rooms not becoming too dark, yet still the colors and warmth were beautiful and very present, mainly in the living room. Bill’s office in the image above is the epitome of darkness, likely because he was the king, lived during the nights, and of course... He was a vampire. The top image that I captured from the show does indeed hold a clue, but the reason for the scene in question and the topic of what was being said have nothing to do with the sinful thinking. Jackson was guiding the group toward a choice in life, one between being an individual werewolf versus that of the ‘pack’. I need not think about such things because the entire series is based upon supernatural beings. Whether or not they may exist (or ever did) is not a concern. As I stated above, part of me needs to spill it and reveal the meaning of the clue. I can’t do that, unfortunately, because the whole kingdom will come crashing down upon my tired head. I don’t need that shit. Perhaps someone can glean the meaning, and perhaps no one has the ability to learn of it. Either way, I will say nothing further about that image. Just know there is a clue. 0900 is approaching, meaning I will move away from this soon and begin to take care of the house. We don’t have to go anywhere for several hours. I have lots of time... Just what I need these days. The routine will be short like yesterday and then maybe I can finish the second load of dry cleaning and do some laundry to free up my Sunday for the games. Damn, I had to throw the blinds for a little while because this office faces east and the sun came beaming into my eyes. The table is against the window, so for the next half hour or so I can’t see outside. I never liked the faerie that was ‘in charge’ of the rest. She had nice hair and was quite tall, yet she also had one of those faces. You know... Yikes. ‘Stay away from her’. Heh. Some of the other faeries are absolutely DREAMY beyond comprehension. Trust me, a few are fucking amazing. Too bad the principal character is not all that great. Whatever. The good with the bad, and all that crap. Oy, Holly is fucking annoying sometimes. Nice big eyes, but ooh-fa, she is scary and representative of so many personality traits which push me away that I don’t even know where to start. Anyway, I’ve been noting some of the episodes and times for later research and image capturing so I can splay the beauty all over the site. I love it when Eric raises his voice. Talk about a commanding tone? The best. I wish I had that kind of power, but alas he is a thousand years old. Rikki is a cunt, but Bailey will be on the screen soon so everything remains balanced. Heh. As much as I have wished for the ability to just fucking gush everything, at the same time there is a part of me that wishes for nothing more than an end to feeling all of the desire and other shit related to the obsession. That’s right... I don’t want to feel these things. I don’t want to see a form and lose my shit over and over, and then sit here and type tons of words that say almost nothing. I don’t fucking like it, but I have nothing else in the world. My living situation is very comfortable at times, and that is all. The inside of my head is a blender most of the time and there is nothing I can do to shut it off. At least, I haven’t found any coping methods. Ugh... There he is again. I can’t stand that guy. Bad with the good. Anyway, I honestly believe that though gushing to someone is appealing because there is a chance of relief (or understanding), the truth is I would slowly be chewed up inside after revealing such personal and intimate details about the way I think these days. The more comfortable path would be to extricate all this shit and burn it to ash. Well, I can’t do that because I don’t know how. This content, much like my brain, will continue to go in circles. Jesus, Hoyt... You ok? She has one hell of a pair of breasts. Shoot me. I don’t care. What I wouldn’t give to see them free of clothing and right in front of me... My imagination has gone wild with such thinking. I know what is going on inside, too. I already know and wish I didn’t. I have seen the evidence and could not fucking believe my hungry eyes. I am not kidding. She moves just a bit and the appearance becomes overpowering. I really wish I did not know these things, but the damage has been done and I have seen too much, too often. The vision of her on Christmas was nearly too much to bear and now I can’t forget it no matter what the average day may have in store for me. Jesus fucking hell, they are amazing. I need to see everything so badly that sometimes I can’t think straight. Again, just shoot me. This is how I feel and there is no stopping the processes in my brain. The girl at the electronics store only added fuel to the fire though her chest was barely noticeable. I am a crazy person. I want her. Well, both of them. Mark my words, there is absolutely nothing about this situation that is positive. Nothing. 0940 is the time and I poured myself a glass of whiskey because the sinful thoughts are running rampant inside me. The alcohol will calm me somewhat. I need it, and if that labels me, so be it. My little world is important to me and the morning cocktail is an integral part of life. One more time... Shoot me. I want many things in this world, and her breasts are way up the fucking list. There is no point in asking why I have a drink this early every day. No point whatsoever. Just go up and read the previous paragraph. God damn do I ever want her. I’ll have to begin the routine shortly. For the time being, I do need to make sure the house remains quiet, but I can work here and there without much noise. And I remembered that I have to do some sewing on a pair of pants prior to dry cleaning them. Oops. I can do that either today or tomorrow. I also need to run some laundry, but my time is all my own and I need it this way. In and around whatever I accomplish, I shall return to this control center and gush my feelings for all things impossible. Such is me. Splendid. I love this office setup so much that I still can’t believe I’ve been able to build the thing. Believe me, I appreciate this every second of every day. Well, when I’m not dreaming of pulling off her shirt, that is. Anyway, when the third display arrives, I am going to be over the moon in this office. I just love it to no end. Don’t even get me started about typing on one of the finest keyboards ever manufactured. Awesome. I only wish I could build something as wonderful to repair the inside of my fucking head. Ugh. Breasts. Warm and waiting. Kill me, help me, something. I suppose if I’m going to end up in an asylum, I may as well have a nice office and computer on which to write a letter for requesting a reservation. Laugh it up, dipshits. This is my life. What? Housework on my birthday? That’s what I do. I have the laundry rolling but still need to keep the house quiet. I received some birthday wishes via text messages and emails, too. That is very nice of people. To be completely honest, the one occasion that stands out these days is the trip we took five years ago. The destinations were entirely up to me, of course, and included the Sea because I wished to carry the big camera to that place again for the purpose of creating more positive memories. The previous trip had been wrought with turmoil. Five years ago was totally different, too, and accomplished my intentions in spades. I wanted to repeat that vacation this year but the fucking finances are not as they were back then. Maybe next year I will again be able to visit that wondrous part of the state comfortably. My fiftieth birthday was a fucking pooch-screw, to be sure. I contracted a very short-lived virus for three days and the middle day was my birthday, believe it or not. There was to be a surprise gathering at one of my favorite restaurants, too. I had no idea. The whole shitaree had to be canceled, though, and my special day rolled backward into history with exactly zero fanfare. That was six years ago and I still feel it. Fifty is a milestone, and despite me downplaying the importance, having to cancel the occasion really hurt. It still does. And with that thought, I have just decided that next year we are taking a trip to Palm Desert once again. I loved that vacation and must repeat it. That is that. End of discussion. Oh, a year’s time may seem far into the future, but rest assured the months will fly by. We will lodge at the same place, visit the same restaurants (if they are still in operation), and again drive around the Sea. One note on that trip five years ago... Palm Desert was cut short by two nights because we left early and drove to the goblet. I don’t think that will happen again, however. Vegas is a gigantic money-sucking machine and I do not want to be reckless. Two nights back then were plenty. We had two great dinners, some relaxing time to look around, and then switched the car rental around so we could fly home instead of drive six hundred miles. I probably went over this in the past. I guess I loved that wondrous vacation too much to avoid mentioning it again, plus today is my birthday and my mind has been driven to more enjoyable times. My hands are cold. I can think of two objects that could warm them. A pair of beautiful breasts all snug and toasty within an unlined bra. Fuck it. Completely losing my mind is but a matter of time. 1328. I made the salad to bring to my birthday dinner and finished the laundry. The routine is also finished. All I have to do now is wait an hour to leave. The idea to stop by the bar was suggested, but considering the amount of virus infections lately, I don’t believe it is a good idea. A distraction from my sordid existence would be nice, though. Today is a reminder of all that is missing and I don’t fucking like it. My head is mired in shit right now. Leaving the house for a while and having dinner with people who love me should help somewhat. I can hope, anyway. My world is so far off kilter that I can barely type the words. The first playoff game just started so I should move away from this machine and watch until we leave. 0710 on Sunday, January 22nd of the new year. Here I sit with coffee and vampires. I fed the cats and made sure everything was in order this morning. My birthday dinner was very nice. Gifts, a bit of a boost from where I was just a few hours earlier, and then back home to relax. And now here I am again within the quiet with my coffee and friends. I never went to spend time in the garage last night after coming home from dinner. My neighbor was going to visit and then had to work. I didn’t feel like going outside and sitting in the cold. Back in November I expressed the idea that my mood was pretty pasty and the day of my birth would be very harsh. Well, I didn’t feel that way last night. I was tired and full of concern, but not to the point of being driven to swing the hammer. The previous event turned to shit, as well. I am beginning to think that my only recourse in the world is to sit in this chair. And that brings a reminder. Do you remember ‘The Chair, the Project, and the Perpetual Aftermath’? I do. This is not the same chair but in the same location and for the same purpose. Does that mean this is the aftermath? Still? I calculated the idea when that essay was published almost five years ago. During that period I was miserable. The feelings were a little different than those I experience these days, and that is to say I did not become angry due to sights or desire. Mostly I was depressed and closed off, yet some disdain was born of being in the workforce and realizing that I had been stuck in a week to week cycle of which I did not see a way out. The garage was not the ‘receptacle’ that it has become during the last few months. There are two situations which have come about in the last calendar year (a bit less, actually) which have created different patterns of thought and a very truncated outlook. I used to believe I was going nowhere, but now I know it. This office is going to become my entire world very soon. Realizing such a fact means the garage lashing will not seem the same in the future, and I believe my head went through the permutations yesterday and I lost the desire to do anything aside from sitting and thinking. Further, the dreams last year have come to mind several times each day for months, entered my sleep time and caused all sorts of physical and emotional issues, and have left me sitting here yearning in directions I never could have imagined a year ago. I think the garage time last night would have caused my emotions to flare, and the bottom line would have been me at the computer this morning completely filled with regret instead of where I am at this moment. That is a place in which I can think and attempt to understand everything. I’ve had two faces in my head since yesterday, one of which visited me in the middle of the night and kept me awake for over an hour when I should have otherwise been sleeping. I only rose from bed to use the bathroom, but upon returning? Bad. I could not calm my head for quite a while. This morning is a little better, though. I just needed to get that smile out of my brain for some hours so I could rest. There are times when she will not leave me alone. This is a very bad situation. I don’t know what I can do other than just live with it, but if you know me at all, such an idea goes more against the grain than any other. Not good. I still see her smiling at me. Oh, Nora. Please hold me MS’s little backup system really fucked up my shit this morning. I don’t want anything happening on this machine automatically, damn it. They push this crap and then files begin to backup while the computer is in use, and then a little while later things begin to disappear from the explorer window. I can’t have that. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to straighten everything and remove the backup software. I can’t fucking stand anything that comes already installed on the computer. I’d rather pick the applications myself. Assholes. They want to control the universe and make everyone use their shit, yet the process is very off-putting. I, for one, do not appreciate such moves. And I don’t want this brand new system all clogged with shit that some company thinks I should be using. Everyone can fuck all the way off. Well, mostly just one software company. Believe me, the operating system is fantastic. I just don’t want it all fucked up. 0916 and I am still sitting here with my last cup of coffee. Today is Sunday, so I’ll be taking care of the usual stuff and the garbage, too. I’ll get started in the next half hour or so. I wasted so much time trying to undo all the backup bullshit that I basically ceased typing here for nearly an hour and lost my train of thought. If the muse returns, that’s fine. If not, I’ll come back later and describe the very exciting housework with a cocktail. Heh. The Goddamned software... This shit goes all the way back to the nineties when Netscape tried to sue AOL. Or was it the other way around? I can’t remember. I worked right down the street from both of those companies and loved to see their logos on the buildings. Now? I am detached. Anyway, soon I’ll move out of the office and think about my day. I need to keep in mind that the game is this afternoon, too. I’d like to have everything in order prior to kickoff. Aside from shopping trips, I am literally completely cut off from society. I barely communicate on the phone anymore (and some snubbed me on my birthday) and do not go to any social gatherings no matter the occasion. In this office I am the controller, writer, site administrator and thinker. Out there? I am no one. I prefer it this way. Oh, I almost forgot. I am also a victim. All the guys will be at the bar for the games today. Of that there can be no doubt, yet I will not attend. I can’t take that kind of risk these days, nor do I wish to be around people who are reckless with their behavior while the world is still suffering from a pandemic. I will remain here, nice and comfortable, and surrounded by those devices I need so much. The energy at the bar during the playoffs is amazing, too. Last season, I was there until the end (even the Super Bowl despite my team not achieving it) and enjoyed myself for the most part. I must admit that this office is a good portion of my desire to stay home all the time. I feel more connected to the Internet on this machine than I did with the laptop. I don’t know why, but perhaps my office is a reminder of years ago when I sat here and contemplated everything. I could always count on some comfort in this chair even when my head was all fucked up. Arliss is about to run aslant of Bill, and that is unwise. Oh, well. I am going to keep the house nice and quiet for the time being. My housework will not take long, meaning I can pour my typical drink in a little while and work at my desired pace. Ugh... Nora is not well, nor is she long for this world. That makes me sad, although this program is fictional. Anyway, I have to mend the pants today so I can toss them in the dryer to clean, and then maybe I can put together a load of wash so Monday is free for other endeavors. I will probably run the first playoff game in the background as I move around the house and garage. Sundays are very nice. ‘Well done, baby vampire’. Eric is awesome. There is some dialog coming soon which I have to quote here, albeit without body language or sound. It’s one of my favorite moments of the entire series and I can relate, believe it or not. Again... He is awesome. 1006. Almost cocktail time. Sarah is a whack-job, but also an awesome character. Monday morning, 0758. Here we go gathering nuts in January. Yesterday came and went. I finished everything intended and watched both games. Very exciting. Today already feels rewarding because I have the hours to myself and a peaceful atmosphere. Time is under my control. Out the window I have seen people driving to work after likely enjoying the weekend. I don’t have to do that and think about such a fact every weekday morning without fail. I need to work in the office for a while once my routine is finished because the third display should be arriving sometime later today. Months ago I calculated that once the control center was complete, I would work to streamline the other two main hobbies in order to shore up my belongings. The fact is I will be focusing upon this machine most of the time and do not need to throw money at it, unlike the truck or other interests. This is to be the main focus of my time, so everything else can be organized or stored without worry. I have the show to my right and some coffee left. This will be the norm for the next hour or so. I used to loathe Monday mornings because of going to work (although I was accustomed to it as the ‘norm’) and tried to appreciate Sundays to the fullest for the same reason. Now? Monday is my first quiet period of the week. I cannot stress that enough. Nora is in bad shape and it breaks my heart. I love her. There are lines within the opening sequence of this program. Splendid. I’ve been seeing them for years, yet still my head goes slightly sideways at the sight. I recall those moments of the past when the lines were right in front of my face. A few occasions had me there... Precisely where I needed to be. None of that exists anymore, unfortunately, but I keep dreaming nonetheless. This is not good because the more time that passes, the further out of balance I become. It is daily, to be honest. And though this morning does not feel very troubling, I am certain everything will come back like a storm and fuck up my brain. It is only a matter of time, or possibly the sight of something. Um... Like the girl. I have to leave that subject alone for a while or I will completely derail the clock today. I really don't want that to happen because the most likely outcome is anger. Very bad. 0903. I’ll be starting my routine very soon. If I decide to head across town for the smog test, I’ll probably take care of half my work prior to leaving, much like when I shop at the market during the morning. Returning home is always very nice after accomplishing something. I can have my cocktail and media while cleaning the kitchen. The very thought of being home after a trip out helps to keep my head up for a while. My head is often full of her. Not so much this morning (so far), though. I went on a little tangent about her chest and that was more than I would normally have said here. Sometimes the desire gets the best of me and my words are guided by those past situations of which I dream daily. This whole thing began with Ashley, and thanks to the passage of so many years, I was eventually able to minimize the amount of time spent dwelling on how much I missed being near her. That doll returned to my head when I nearly lost my shit seeing the one at the pool. Not the older sister (I believe), but the younger. She may have been right around Ashley’s age, too. But the sight, the lines right fucking there with zero clothing covering them is what drove me up the wall. That was the only occasion of such a form with nearly no fabric whatsoever, and a person close enough to my eyes for me to see actual detail. Recently I went on about the girl and the fact that I know the lines are inside her pants, most of that desperate yearning having stemmed from the fucking pool. Now? I’ll probably never see anything like that thong on display, and a repeat is about as likely as seeing the real lines on the other girl. This is all so fucking convoluted that I still can’t believe the condition of my mind. An hour at that pool fucked me up for all time. 0930. My coffee is almost gone. I’ll have to take care of some business very soon so my morning doesn’t go downhill like yesterday. End of line."
January 23rd, 2023 9:32am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Sinful Mind-full
read ( words)
"1422. I took care of one smog test a little while ago. One down, one to go. I can have my car tested anytime because the time is always available. I don’t know what else I may do around the house for the remainder of business hours, though. Driving up the highway for the test took less time than I would have thought, yet due to going out for a bit I really don’t feel like accomplishing anything this afternoon. The car being tested was also a test for me. Sometimes I don’t feel like being around other people, so heading out the door and being among society can be quite a trial. I made it, though, and am proud of myself for taking care of some business beyond the norm today. The car registrations are but once a year, anyway. Not that big of a deal. The show is once again gracing the right-hand display and I have lots of time to myself for continuing whatever the hell this has become. So, where was I? Sin. Not the video game, either. The real thing. One of my neighbors up the street is REALLY thin. She birthed a baby around a year ago or so, and prior to being pregnant she appeared closer to ‘average’ in weight and form. Now? She walks by almost daily and waves to me, and I look back at her wondering if her caloric intake is too low. Geez Louise, that girl is thin. And here she comes again with the doggie and toddler. So thin. Just something I think about from time to time. Sometimes I wish I had not left the goblet after that first trip. The ensuing years were rife with obsession, yearning and wondering if I could ever fill the holes inside me. Prior to visiting Vegas in zero-three, I did not think in such terms nearly as often. I just don’t know. ‘I’m makin’ breakfast. Want some eggs?’ ‘Eggs? Why don’t you put on your fuckin’ pants.’ I just realized one of the reasons I still watch this show. During the late zeros and a few years after the turn of the decade, low-rise jeans were still very popular. Now? High-rise and beyond. That fucking style should have never made it out of the seventies. Horrible. Oh, and the dialog above is not from my current program. I just wanted to make that clear. The issue is the fucking style of pants these days. The seventies had many positives in my eyes, most notably some of the home decor and woodwork seen in houses that were built prior to that decade. Fashion was definitely a negative. To me, anyway. And now it looks much worse than during the seventies. Much, much worse. The realm continues to encapsulate me no matter what I may be typing, as if the background thoughts are becoming permanent. I mentioned the neighbor because not only is she really thin, but is also quite often wrapped in tight-fitting pants that hide absolutely nothing. I don’t feel THAT way about her, however. The pants are a reminder of everything else, most notably of the girl in the store even though she was wearing jeans. The lines are key. If I don’t see a hint of those most beautiful representations of form, there is little worry. Sometimes I suspect they are present, yet there is no way of knowing. Her lines were right there in the well-lit video department. The combination of her position facing away from me and the fact that she was standing with her feet together completely skyrocketed the appearance of her lines. And she was tiny, not likely a quarter of an inch beyond five feet in height. The entire picture was stunning. My sinful thinking is at an all-time high and she is a good portion of the reason. Keep in mind that she is just a person and was standing there doing her job. A person... Above all things. I do not wish to affect anyone, ever. I stared for seconds and then walked away. Between the first sight of her and the act of climbing into my car, all sorts of situations were manufactured at high speed and tattooed to my brain. Some of those situations were very erotic. If we go back to the damaging dreams and more recent visions, a similar result is apparent. The differences cannot be revealed, unfortunately. The realm is becoming my god. Of that there can be no doubt any longer. 1715 and here I am once again. I restocked some items and did a general straightening of the dining room since it doubles as a partial pantry these days. A second polish of the kitchen is also finished. While working out there I actually missed sitting here in front of the control center. The morning is my favorite, though. The quiet nature of this room combined with hot coffee is really comforting, even when the subject matter seems to be out of control. 0703 on Friday morning. Coffee, cats fed, and the show over there on what is soon to be the second display of three. I received a notification this morning that the third display will arrive on Monday, for sure. The tip was to let me know it may be here that early, but the shipping information does not lie. I have no idea what I was dreaming this morning. Something about the Waterpik I set up last night, and then being involved in a combat situation while riding a flight simulator that was about to do a corkscrew and harm people beneath the machinery. What was going through my head to cause such strange dreams is beyond me. Oh, there is Nora again. What a beauty. Why couldn’t I have dreamed of her? Maybe a few moments of holding hands? I need that, especially from one of those with whom I seem to have a heartfelt connection (just me, not them). The combat was very odd, as if the science fiction rubbed off on what I had been thinking prior to sleep. Aliens? I don’t know. At least the girls didn’t appear to me again. I don’t need that shit right now. As things stand, I am already straining myself for more visions and yearning to see the tiniest detail which can lend support to the near-complete oil paintings in my brain. Dreaming about odd circumstances or situations is fine. Nora is tipsy and adorable. Damn. I want her to hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I may as well want one of the other two for all the good it can do. Shit. The new image application that replaced my old software is working very well so far. I didn’t really need anything professional because I’m not fluent with image manipulation to begin with. All those programs cost money, the latest of which is actually by subscription only. There is no way I want to pay for something monthly that I use for very straightforward operations. I believe a good portion of the smooth operation is this computer, too. Oh, boy. Here comes Lilith to the scene. Watch yourselves. Anyway, all of the other software is fine and works five times as fast on this machine as it all did on the laptop. Maybe I’ve said it before, but this computer is absolutely fantastic. I don’t know what is in store for me today other than housework. I do need to take care of the laundry situation before it gets out of control, though. My usual chores will not take very long. And there she goes again... The neighbor. God damn, that girl is thin. I think I said that already. Anyway, I need to work in this office some more before taking on anything more dramatic. I’d like to get everything in order by Monday when the display arrives. And here we go, right down the rabbit hole again... Only partial knowledge is available to me because there are no ears, plus there has been plenty of analysis already and I’ve only answered two questions after all this time. I know a few things, but that’s it. The more I try to push, the less I understand ‘why’, and that is the most subjective fucking question of them all. There is not supposed to be any right or wrong about it, either. But it seems wrong. This morning is an ideal example of what the obsession and dreams have done to me. My mind has been spinning in circles for the last half hour. I can’t go into detail. What I will say is that some of this feeling has stemmed from bad things, whereas very little was born of good. Believe me, there have been good feelings – positives, if you will – in recent years. I have had more than one discussion regarding how difficult the current period can be at times. Earlier I was fine, but like many days spent in front of the cloud and IDE, my brain descended into the netherworld of the damaging dreams, visions in society, and missing pieces of both my inner being and life itself. I am going to have to push pretty hard to rise from this shit and be at least somewhat productive this morning. I really don’t like this feeling at all. Maybe if there was a way to know everything, I could more easily rationalize and/or deal with the issues involved with my quiet mornings. Another idea that comes to mind is that I do my best, clearest thinking during the early mornings, and due to such a fact my brain tries to understand the pain. I really wish I knew everything. Well, at least more than I already do. And no, I can’t spell out anything here or the end of the world will arrive at light speed.
There is a clue in this image
Maybe I shouldn’t be asking these questions at all. The sin entered a little while ago and gripped me for a short period. Those moments caused me to recall the girl in the store and then all sorts of things that I should not mention on the site (some already have been spelled out). The girl at the store causes much desire and then sends me back in time to those paired knees. The process is nearly instantaneous and has the power to distort my mind until damage occurs. The girl at the pool was more than three years ago and doesn’t show up in my head very often unless I think about the relationship between the girl in the store and the subject of those dreams, both of which cause the same level of need. I can’t believe that Jamie (no, not the one with whom I’ve been in love for years) was a relative newcomer to television, yet in this series appears completely nude. That is some fucking dedication and I have much respect for her placing herself out there for the camera. For me, her being nude in a few scenes is not something I prefer because my favorite part of her is the face. Believe it. The faces of the world are key. Anyway, Jamie aside, where the hell was I? Ah... The fact that I sit here and remember things which cause me pain, and then I feel the other pain, and then I dream of everything which is impossible. The catalysts are many, and I have to collate everything for a while so I can more easily deal with seeing one of those subjects. There was already enough going on before I went to the store and saw that tiny, amazing goddess. I didn’t need anything more piled on top of this shit. The sin is beginning to cause me to daydream again, none of which is healthy or moral. Trust me. Not good. Pause for the cause. Here I am again at 1033 and my routine is finished. Cocktail time. I have yet to tackle the dry cleaning but it will all be done by close of business, if not earlier. The damage has left me for a while. All those dreamy thoughts will return, though, and soon I fear. For the time being I plan to enjoy the peace and quiet. Well, other than the vampires gracing the right-hand display, that is. At some point we will be heading to the market for some staples. Otherwise, I’ll be here in the house taking care of whatever seems most pressing. Holy God is Nora ever something to see. The facial trait she displays is unrivaled in my history. I still can’t seem to adequately describe it, however. Maybe just looking at her is enough. So, another positive to having this desktop system is capturing images from the screen while there is media on the second monitor. The operating system makes it a snap to grab high resolution images, and then the new manipulation software allows me to quickly edit and include the resulting content within these entries. I fucking love it. Do you remember when I broke out the big camera and fastest lens to shoot the television screen? Well, I don’t have to do that anymore. And just wait until I switch back to the gangsters and fill a dozen essays with Jamie’s unparalleled beauty. Wait for it, people. Damn, the morning cocktail is yummy. Call me what you will. I still function just fine throughout the days at home. Once it is gone, I drink nothing but water until the proper hour which is typically near or after six in the evening. Alcoholic or not, I don’t care. The label these days is very subjective and does not take other factors into consideration. Everyone is lumped into the same category. Well, fuck that. I know what I am doing, especially when you consider the sheer amount of self-analysis throughout the last several years. The morning drinks will continue unimpeded. Now is not the time for me to cease anything that brings joy. Terry is fucking awesome. I just pulled an image from the show which carries a clue to the difficulty plaguing me since last year. I will edit and display the image within this entry. Good luck finding the clue. Holy shit do I ever love this new machine, not to mention the atmosphere inside the office since building my control center again. This is wonderful. Maybe the joy in sitting here again after so many years will eventually help me deal with all the other shit. And sometimes Luna is gorgeous. Sometimes. 1613. The trip to the market was smooth as glass. Upon returning, I organized everything and ran some dry cleaning. I also straightened the garage somewhat. Now I have some time to relax here in the control center until the time comes to prepare dinner. The other half of the dry cleaning may be done prior to close of business, but right now I need some clear thinking. My show is following along on the second display. And there is Nora wrapped in some very nice jeans. Wow. What a fucking stunning woman. A swirl of magic flows through me every time I see her beautiful face. Tomorrow we are heading across town for a dinner in my honor. Very nice. The football game is on Sunday, so I’ll have no worries about having to watch sporadically or during conversation. I planned the weekend this way due to the playoff games being scheduled as they have. I have lots of time to take care of whatever I need during the next two days. Monday is when things go back to normal. I will have the house to myself during the weekdays once again. There are many screen captures I wish to make and include here for the next several entries. The process is easier and more relaxing during quiet times. The computer and software makes capturing and processing very enjoyable. I don’t know if I want to venture back to the garage for the other load of dry cleaning. The weather is nice and clear, but also dry and cold, not to mention the breeze. This morning was tough. I made it through alright, and kept thinking of how difficult those times have become. Years ago I had similar arduous situations from time to time, but to be honest, the past few months have been worse. I believe the outline in that fateful entry from the summer of seventeen has worsened the way I see the world. Now that the damaging dreams have become daily thinking, that older entry has changed somewhat. What I mean to say is whatever I found appealing in society or on television now appears different, even more subjective than in the past, and much more painful to see and consider as I live through each day. There is no way I can spell this out, however. 0655 on Saturday morning. Today is my birthday. We will be heading across town for an early dinner this afternoon and I have to make a salad to bring along. Other than that, I have football to watch and words to type. Coffee, cats fed, vampires to the right. The morning time in this office is very nice. Rikki just demonstrated her dominance by biting Danielle’s neck. Just saying. Anyway, I plan to take it easy today and tomorrow. I’ll do my usual stuff and then work on the computer and streamline this office in anticipation of the third display appearing this coming Monday. That will be very nice. The tree and associated holiday decorations were all taken down and stored yesterday, so the living room looks boring, yet nice and neat. I want this room to follow suit. When the computer is powered down or sleeping, the monitors look like nothing more than big, black rectangles and tend to darken the entire room. I’d like to simplify this space to the point of it not looking cluttered. Working in this room is always nice and comfortable because my friends follow along, often bringing feelings from the past. All the way back to the end of the nineties when I first laid my hands on some Laserdiscs of the second show, there has been one manufactured comfortable space after another, meaning in each place I lived. The only exception was the cave. Too much turmoil and sadness attached. If I decide to improve the office later, those thoughts will be flowing through my head. And there is Nora. I need her to hug me. It’s only 0707 right now, but the hug would be nice because I already know that the morning mood is not under my control and may change at any time. Behind every line of code is sinful thinking, wishes, and images of positions and situations. None of it stops long enough for me to catch my breath. I must be careful. The hair-trigger cannot be tightened. I opened the blinds and there is frost on everything. Wow. The cold weather affects me more now than when I was younger, but there is no denying the beauty of a very clear sky during the mornings.
Bill's office has my kind of decor, let me tell you. I love it
Sometimes I want to scream everything. I very nearly did on a few occasions, too. I was close. The feeling of being desperate for someone to help became overwhelming and I began the process of relaying a bit of information that likely explained some of the reasons I am the way that I am. That situation soon went bad and I had to clam up before too much was transmitted to another person. I already know that no one will easily identify with how I think these days, and that tends to be the lion’s share of why I remain quiet (as well as here). The truth is that remaining bottled is important to me for two reasons. One, I am very fearful of the contents of my head being out there beyond my ability to contain it, and two, the inside of me is quite literally mine, and to share would mean giving too much away. Does that make sense? I don’t care. The fact is I almost opened the spillway to let the words flow and would have regretted all of it. Holy Jesus does Nora have a picturesque rear end in jeans. Damn. What was I saying? Ah... I did speak some and still feel that I made a mistake, even years later. As such, I can’t fucking do it again. That is not to say that I don’t feel a strong need to spill myself in the hope that someone will understand and/or help a little. I see people out there going to work almost every morning upon opening the blinds. When I see them, I am glad I don’t have to go anywhere. Ah, shit. There is that guy that I can’t fucking stand, and I can’t even state the reasons (there are two). Whatever. I have to take the bad with the good if I’m going to sit and watch an HBO series, right? Hmm... Oh, yes... The people going to work. I have to say that since last month, the thought of going out there in the cold and visiting places I’d rather avoid is even less comfortable than ever. I don’t have to go anywhere, either. The most important aspect of this situation is remaining mindful of my time being almost completely under my own control, something of which I dreamed for many years. Appreciating the fact that I can sit here in the morning with my coffee and look out the window at others going to work is a positive that I must hold dear. If I forget or begin to take this circumstance for granted, everything could be lost. 0748. The feelings are moving me downward, as if weight is slowly being placed upon my shoulders while I sit here. I believe the damaging dreams combined with the appearance of the girl at the store the other day are causing years-old desire to return to my head, yet my world is so different now that the only result is disappointment. Back then, I had hope that things could change if I remained positive and mindful of others. Now? I’ve realized that was all a bunch of shit and I’ve been affected to the point of knowing nothing will ever be as it was in the past. I am older, but that does not make any difference. What has caused the largest gradient is the resulting situation from the way I’ve been considered by some people. I am vastly different than just five years ago, most of the changes being negative. My reaction to that tiny beauty in the store would not have been as overwhelming one decade ago. I have felt a strong desire on and off each day since visiting that store. I honestly don’t know if the trip was worth it or not. I can’t stop picturing her in ways that fulfill my obsession with lines, nor can I turn off my desire for the other one, and both are related. Directly, to be sure. I can’t say in what way, though. I’m already far enough into this evil, sinful line of thinking. Several paragraphs up to this point have had me walking to the edge of the cliff and I need to remember that stepping off is permanent. The subject is rather like my stinginess with music. The material that is really important to me can’t be shared with another person because I am too specific with the guidelines of listening. This is just an example, mind you. When someone asks about music I like, I offer almost nothing. The fear is that the media will be beyond my control once it is shared, and if it is not respected and heard in the correct ‘context’, the compositions can lose importance. I simply can’t have that. The information in the previous paragraph has me at the edge, but I can’t go further even though I really need to share it all. Once the information is in someone else’s mind, I have no way of getting it back. Moreover, considering the sensitive nature of what has been going through my mind, there could also be danger involved. For me, that is. I have a head full of sinful dreams. Trust me, this is not good and must remain completely under my control or the entire shitaree will go to hell. Whew. 0810. I am still on my second cup of coffee. Number three will be very soon. I grabbed an image from the show and placed it just above this section. The wide shot shows off the way the office was decorated, a theme I absolutely love and have since first watching this many years ago. Other people have never understood my taste in room decor, likely due to darkness. I don’t like skylights, light pipes, or any other natural sources which maintain a minimum light level inside a house. I understand them, however, as the point is to reduce the need to turn on electric lights. That makes sense. For me, the image above hits the nail almost squarely on the head with the sconces, dark wallpaper (yes, I still appreciate wallpaper), and the furnishings all being dark and exotic. I am not an idiot, of course, and realize this is a television program full of supernatural shit, but the fact remains the room was built and staged right close to my taste in colors and materials. I always enjoy seeing lots of woodwork and such, thin shears on the windows framed by very heavy, dark drapes to control light, and patterned rugs on wood floors. All that stuff appeals to me and I have never lived within such a space. The closest was my house. We decorated about halfway to what I really love to compromise on the rooms not becoming too dark, yet still the colors and warmth were beautiful and very present, mainly in the living room. Bill’s office in the image above is the epitome of darkness, likely because he was the king, lived during the nights, and of course... He was a vampire. The top image that I captured from the show does indeed hold a clue, but the reason for the scene in question and the topic of what was being said have nothing to do with the sinful thinking. Jackson was guiding the group toward a choice in life, one between being an individual werewolf versus that of the ‘pack’. I need not think about such things because the entire series is based upon supernatural beings. Whether or not they may exist (or ever did) is not a concern. As I stated above, part of me needs to spill it and reveal the meaning of the clue. I can’t do that, unfortunately, because the whole kingdom will come crashing down upon my tired head. I don’t need that shit. Perhaps someone can glean the meaning, and perhaps no one has the ability to learn of it. Either way, I will say nothing further about that image. Just know there is a clue. 0900 is approaching, meaning I will move away from this soon and begin to take care of the house. We don’t have to go anywhere for several hours. I have lots of time... Just what I need these days. The routine will be short like yesterday and then maybe I can finish the second load of dry cleaning and do some laundry to free up my Sunday for the games. Damn, I had to throw the blinds for a little while because this office faces east and the sun came beaming into my eyes. The table is against the window, so for the next half hour or so I can’t see outside. I never liked the faerie that was ‘in charge’ of the rest. She had nice hair and was quite tall, yet she also had one of those faces. You know... Yikes. ‘Stay away from her’. Heh. Some of the other faeries are absolutely DREAMY beyond comprehension. Trust me, a few are fucking amazing. Too bad the principal character is not all that great. Whatever. The good with the bad, and all that crap. Oy, Holly is fucking annoying sometimes. Nice big eyes, but ooh-fa, she is scary and representative of so many personality traits which push me away that I don’t even know where to start. Anyway, I’ve been noting some of the episodes and times for later research and image capturing so I can splay the beauty all over the site. I love it when Eric raises his voice. Talk about a commanding tone? The best. I wish I had that kind of power, but alas he is a thousand years old. Rikki is a cunt, but Bailey will be on the screen soon so everything remains balanced. Heh. As much as I have wished for the ability to just fucking gush everything, at the same time there is a part of me that wishes for nothing more than an end to feeling all of the desire and other shit related to the obsession. That’s right... I don’t want to feel these things. I don’t want to see a form and lose my shit over and over, and then sit here and type tons of words that say almost nothing. I don’t fucking like it, but I have nothing else in the world. My living situation is very comfortable at times, and that is all. The inside of my head is a blender most of the time and there is nothing I can do to shut it off. At least, I haven’t found any coping methods. Ugh... There he is again. I can’t stand that guy. Bad with the good. Anyway, I honestly believe that though gushing to someone is appealing because there is a chance of relief (or understanding), the truth is I would slowly be chewed up inside after revealing such personal and intimate details about the way I think these days. The more comfortable path would be to extricate all this shit and burn it to ash. Well, I can’t do that because I don’t know how. This content, much like my brain, will continue to go in circles.
Jesus, Hoyt... You ok?
She has one hell of a pair of breasts. Shoot me. I don’t care. What I wouldn’t give to see them free of clothing and right in front of me... My imagination has gone wild with such thinking. I know what is going on inside, too. I already know and wish I didn’t. I have seen the evidence and could not fucking believe my hungry eyes. I am not kidding. She moves just a bit and the appearance becomes overpowering. I really wish I did not know these things, but the damage has been done and I have seen too much, too often. The vision of her on Christmas was nearly too much to bear and now I can’t forget it no matter what the average day may have in store for me. Jesus fucking hell, they are amazing. I need to see everything so badly that sometimes I can’t think straight. Again, just shoot me. This is how I feel and there is no stopping the processes in my brain. The girl at the electronics store only added fuel to the fire though her chest was barely noticeable. I am a crazy person. I want her. Well, both of them. Mark my words, there is absolutely nothing about this situation that is positive. Nothing. 0940 is the time and I poured myself a glass of whiskey because the sinful thoughts are running rampant inside me. The alcohol will calm me somewhat. I need it, and if that labels me, so be it. My little world is important to me and the morning cocktail is an integral part of life. One more time... Shoot me. I want many things in this world, and her breasts are way up the fucking list. There is no point in asking why I have a drink this early every day. No point whatsoever. Just go up and read the previous paragraph. God damn do I ever want her. I’ll have to begin the routine shortly. For the time being, I do need to make sure the house remains quiet, but I can work here and there without much noise. And I remembered that I have to do some sewing on a pair of pants prior to dry cleaning them. Oops. I can do that either today or tomorrow. I also need to run some laundry, but my time is all my own and I need it this way. In and around whatever I accomplish, I shall return to this control center and gush my feelings for all things impossible. Such is me. Splendid. I love this office setup so much that I still can’t believe I’ve been able to build the thing. Believe me, I appreciate this every second of every day. Well, when I’m not dreaming of pulling off her shirt, that is. Anyway, when the third display arrives, I am going to be over the moon in this office. I just love it to no end. Don’t even get me started about typing on one of the finest keyboards ever manufactured. Awesome. I only wish I could build something as wonderful to repair the inside of my fucking head. Ugh. Breasts. Warm and waiting. Kill me, help me, something. I suppose if I’m going to end up in an asylum, I may as well have a nice office and computer on which to write a letter for requesting a reservation. Laugh it up, dipshits. This is my life. What? Housework on my birthday? That’s what I do. I have the laundry rolling but still need to keep the house quiet. I received some birthday wishes via text messages and emails, too. That is very nice of people. To be completely honest, the one occasion that stands out these days is the trip we took five years ago. The destinations were entirely up to me, of course, and included the Sea because I wished to carry the big camera to that place again for the purpose of creating more positive memories. The previous trip had been wrought with turmoil. Five years ago was totally different, too, and accomplished my intentions in spades. I wanted to repeat that vacation this year but the fucking finances are not as they were back then. Maybe next year I will again be able to visit that wondrous part of the state comfortably. My fiftieth birthday was a fucking pooch-screw, to be sure. I contracted a very short-lived virus for three days and the middle day was my birthday, believe it or not. There was to be a surprise gathering at one of my favorite restaurants, too. I had no idea. The whole shitaree had to be canceled, though, and my special day rolled backward into history with exactly zero fanfare. That was six years ago and I still feel it. Fifty is a milestone, and despite me downplaying the importance, having to cancel the occasion really hurt. It still does. And with that thought, I have just decided that next year we are taking a trip to Palm Desert once again. I loved that vacation and must repeat it. That is that. End of discussion. Oh, a year’s time may seem far into the future, but rest assured the months will fly by. We will lodge at the same place, visit the same restaurants (if they are still in operation), and again drive around the Sea. One note on that trip five years ago... Palm Desert was cut short by two nights because we left early and drove to the goblet. I don’t think that will happen again, however. Vegas is a gigantic money-sucking machine and I do not want to be reckless. Two nights back then were plenty. We had two great dinners, some relaxing time to look around, and then switched the car rental around so we could fly home instead of drive six hundred miles. I probably went over this in the past. I guess I loved that wondrous vacation too much to avoid mentioning it again, plus today is my birthday and my mind has been driven to more enjoyable times. My hands are cold. I can think of two objects that could warm them. A pair of beautiful breasts all snug and toasty within an unlined bra. Fuck it. Completely losing my mind is but a matter of time. 1328. I made the salad to bring to my birthday dinner and finished the laundry. The routine is also finished. All I have to do now is wait an hour to leave. The idea to stop by the bar was suggested, but considering the amount of virus infections lately, I don’t believe it is a good idea. A distraction from my sordid existence would be nice, though. Today is a reminder of all that is missing and I don’t fucking like it. My head is mired in shit right now. Leaving the house for a while and having dinner with people who love me should help somewhat. I can hope, anyway. My world is so far off kilter that I can barely type the words. The first playoff game just started so I should move away from this machine and watch until we leave. 0710 on Sunday, January 22nd of the new year. Here I sit with coffee and vampires. I fed the cats and made sure everything was in order this morning. My birthday dinner was very nice. Gifts, a bit of a boost from where I was just a few hours earlier, and then back home to relax. And now here I am again within the quiet with my coffee and friends. I never went to spend time in the garage last night after coming home from dinner. My neighbor was going to visit and then had to work. I didn’t feel like going outside and sitting in the cold. Back in November I expressed the idea that my mood was pretty pasty and the day of my birth would be very harsh. Well, I didn’t feel that way last night. I was tired and full of concern, but not to the point of being driven to swing the hammer. The previous event turned to shit, as well. I am beginning to think that my only recourse in the world is to sit in this chair. And that brings a reminder. Do you remember ‘The Chair, the Project, and the Perpetual Aftermath’? I do. This is not the same chair but in the same location and for the same purpose. Does that mean this is the aftermath? Still? I calculated the idea when that essay was published almost five years ago. During that period I was miserable. The feelings were a little different than those I experience these days, and that is to say I did not become angry due to sights or desire. Mostly I was depressed and closed off, yet some disdain was born of being in the workforce and realizing that I had been stuck in a week to week cycle of which I did not see a way out. The garage was not the ‘receptacle’ that it has become during the last few months. There are two situations which have come about in the last calendar year (a bit less, actually) which have created different patterns of thought and a very truncated outlook. I used to believe I was going nowhere, but now I know it. This office is going to become my entire world very soon. Realizing such a fact means the garage lashing will not seem the same in the future, and I believe my head went through the permutations yesterday and I lost the desire to do anything aside from sitting and thinking. Further, the dreams last year have come to mind several times each day for months, entered my sleep time and caused all sorts of physical and emotional issues, and have left me sitting here yearning in directions I never could have imagined a year ago. I think the garage time last night would have caused my emotions to flare, and the bottom line would have been me at the computer this morning completely filled with regret instead of where I am at this moment. That is a place in which I can think and attempt to understand everything. I’ve had two faces in my head since yesterday, one of which visited me in the middle of the night and kept me awake for over an hour when I should have otherwise been sleeping. I only rose from bed to use the bathroom, but upon returning? Bad. I could not calm my head for quite a while. This morning is a little better, though. I just needed to get that smile out of my brain for some hours so I could rest. There are times when she will not leave me alone. This is a very bad situation. I don’t know what I can do other than just live with it, but if you know me at all, such an idea goes more against the grain than any other. Not good. I still see her smiling at me.
Oh, Nora. Please hold me
MS’s little backup system really fucked up my shit this morning. I don’t want anything happening on this machine automatically, damn it. They push this crap and then files begin to backup while the computer is in use, and then a little while later things begin to disappear from the explorer window. I can’t have that. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to straighten everything and remove the backup software. I can’t fucking stand anything that comes already installed on the computer. I’d rather pick the applications myself. Assholes. They want to control the universe and make everyone use their shit, yet the process is very off-putting. I, for one, do not appreciate such moves. And I don’t want this brand new system all clogged with shit that some company thinks I should be using. Everyone can fuck all the way off. Well, mostly just one software company. Believe me, the operating system is fantastic. I just don’t want it all fucked up. 0916 and I am still sitting here with my last cup of coffee. Today is Sunday, so I’ll be taking care of the usual stuff and the garbage, too. I’ll get started in the next half hour or so. I wasted so much time trying to undo all the backup bullshit that I basically ceased typing here for nearly an hour and lost my train of thought. If the muse returns, that’s fine. If not, I’ll come back later and describe the very exciting housework with a cocktail. Heh. The Goddamned software... This shit goes all the way back to the nineties when Netscape tried to sue AOL. Or was it the other way around? I can’t remember. I worked right down the street from both of those companies and loved to see their logos on the buildings. Now? I am detached. Anyway, soon I’ll move out of the office and think about my day. I need to keep in mind that the game is this afternoon, too. I’d like to have everything in order prior to kickoff. Aside from shopping trips, I am literally completely cut off from society. I barely communicate on the phone anymore (and some snubbed me on my birthday) and do not go to any social gatherings no matter the occasion. In this office I am the controller, writer, site administrator and thinker. Out there? I am no one. I prefer it this way. Oh, I almost forgot. I am also a victim. All the guys will be at the bar for the games today. Of that there can be no doubt, yet I will not attend. I can’t take that kind of risk these days, nor do I wish to be around people who are reckless with their behavior while the world is still suffering from a pandemic. I will remain here, nice and comfortable, and surrounded by those devices I need so much. The energy at the bar during the playoffs is amazing, too. Last season, I was there until the end (even the Super Bowl despite my team not achieving it) and enjoyed myself for the most part. I must admit that this office is a good portion of my desire to stay home all the time. I feel more connected to the Internet on this machine than I did with the laptop. I don’t know why, but perhaps my office is a reminder of years ago when I sat here and contemplated everything. I could always count on some comfort in this chair even when my head was all fucked up. Arliss is about to run aslant of Bill, and that is unwise. Oh, well. I am going to keep the house nice and quiet for the time being. My housework will not take long, meaning I can pour my typical drink in a little while and work at my desired pace. Ugh... Nora is not well, nor is she long for this world. That makes me sad, although this program is fictional. Anyway, I have to mend the pants today so I can toss them in the dryer to clean, and then maybe I can put together a load of wash so Monday is free for other endeavors. I will probably run the first playoff game in the background as I move around the house and garage. Sundays are very nice. ‘Well done, baby vampire’. Eric is awesome. There is some dialog coming soon which I have to quote here, albeit without body language or sound. It’s one of my favorite moments of the entire series and I can relate, believe it or not. Again... He is awesome. 1006. Almost cocktail time. Sarah is a whack-job, but also an awesome character. Monday morning, 0758. Here we go gathering nuts in January. Yesterday came and went. I finished everything intended and watched both games. Very exciting. Today already feels rewarding because I have the hours to myself and a peaceful atmosphere. Time is under my control. Out the window I have seen people driving to work after likely enjoying the weekend. I don’t have to do that and think about such a fact every weekday morning without fail. I need to work in the office for a while once my routine is finished because the third display should be arriving sometime later today. Months ago I calculated that once the control center was complete, I would work to streamline the other two main hobbies in order to shore up my belongings. The fact is I will be focusing upon this machine most of the time and do not need to throw money at it, unlike the truck or other interests. This is to be the main focus of my time, so everything else can be organized or stored without worry. I have the show to my right and some coffee left. This will be the norm for the next hour or so. I used to loathe Monday mornings because of going to work (although I was accustomed to it as the ‘norm’) and tried to appreciate Sundays to the fullest for the same reason. Now? Monday is my first quiet period of the week. I cannot stress that enough. Nora is in bad shape and it breaks my heart. I love her. There are lines within the opening sequence of this program. Splendid. I’ve been seeing them for years, yet still my head goes slightly sideways at the sight. I recall those moments of the past when the lines were right in front of my face. A few occasions had me there... Precisely where I needed to be. None of that exists anymore, unfortunately, but I keep dreaming nonetheless. This is not good because the more time that passes, the further out of balance I become. It is daily, to be honest. And though this morning does not feel very troubling, I am certain everything will come back like a storm and fuck up my brain. It is only a matter of time, or possibly the sight of something. Um... Like the girl. I have to leave that subject alone for a while or I will completely derail the clock today. I really don't want that to happen because the most likely outcome is anger. Very bad. 0903. I’ll be starting my routine very soon. If I decide to head across town for the smog test, I’ll probably take care of half my work prior to leaving, much like when I shop at the market during the morning. Returning home is always very nice after accomplishing something. I can have my cocktail and media while cleaning the kitchen. The very thought of being home after a trip out helps to keep my head up for a while. My head is often full of her. Not so much this morning (so far), though. I went on a little tangent about her chest and that was more than I would normally have said here. Sometimes the desire gets the best of me and my words are guided by those past situations of which I dream daily. This whole thing began with Ashley, and thanks to the passage of so many years, I was eventually able to minimize the amount of time spent dwelling on how much I missed being near her. That doll returned to my head when I nearly lost my shit seeing the one at the pool. Not the older sister (I believe), but the younger. She may have been right around Ashley’s age, too. But the sight, the lines right fucking there with zero clothing covering them is what drove me up the wall. That was the only occasion of such a form with nearly no fabric whatsoever, and a person close enough to my eyes for me to see actual detail. Recently I went on about the girl and the fact that I know the lines are inside her pants, most of that desperate yearning having stemmed from the fucking pool. Now? I’ll probably never see anything like that thong on display, and a repeat is about as likely as seeing the real lines on the other girl. This is all so fucking convoluted that I still can’t believe the condition of my mind. An hour at that pool fucked me up for all time. 0930. My coffee is almost gone. I’ll have to take care of some business very soon so my morning doesn’t go downhill like yesterday. End of line."
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