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The Well of Sins

alert   Mature content     No. 355    Published February 1st, 2023 11:09am pst       read ( words)     Past entries

"The time is now 1058 on the same day that the previous entry was completed. I went shopping and finished my daily routine, meaning I have free time for a while. There were a few visions in the shopping center but nothing up close, thank goodness. I don’t need more of that shit right now. The main issue was when I turned on to the boulevard and saw a car that drives by my open garage on most days. The driver was so fucking cute that I nearly turned around to see where she was headed, although common sense did take over and pushed me to continue on my trip to the store. I believe she resides in one of the two courts flanking the location of this very house. When I say cute, I mean over the fucking top. From my vantage point in the garage, however, I rarely see detail when someone drives by. The right turn allowed me to see her more closely and I realized her face is fucking amazing, not to mention the fact that she was smiling. Rarely have I seen such a beauty that close to home. Oh, I’ve seen pants aplenty, yet up close things hit me differently and much harder. She was stunning and I cannot wait to see her again. Due to the timing, I poured myself a drink upon returning home and just before beginning my typical morning work. Now that it is finished, I have some time to sit and bitch about how fucked up my brain has become whilst swilling some quality alcohol. The pants and boots in the parking lot did not affect me much due to my head reeling from the girl in the car. Nothing has more power than a face.

Sometime later, possibly after lunch, I’ll be outside helping my neighbor with one of his motorcycles. The plan is to strip it and eventually pull the engine for replacement. I’m sure we will have the music in both garages synchronized for entertainment. I do enjoy the distraction of helping with the bike work. My ingenuity, experience and vast array of hand tools always come in handy for him. And I’ll say straight out that I have never had a better neighbor. Our relationship is important in these trying times, and I am not referring to my mental issues. I’m talking about the fact that crime seems to be perpetually on the rise and we can never be too careful when it comes to the security of our respective property. Ah, I see out the window that he is leaving to go somewhere. Such a fact always helps to turn on my vigilant stance. I shall keep an eye on everything until such time as I need not watch through the window. Plus, once my cocktail is consumed, I will probably transition to the garage for a little while. A trip to the big wine store may be on tap for the afternoon, too. Either that or the local cheap booze source, I guess. We need bar staples.

1505 is what I see on the clock. I did help with the motorcycle for a little while, after which something happened that I cannot describe within this content. Something wondrous, beautiful and stirring, yet debilitating. As usual, I have to leave the subject matter out of this exposition. Suffice to say, my mental state is now further disturbed. I have the next couple of hours to myself and I will be sitting here unless I decide to drive to the store for some booze. Right now I just don’t know if I feel like going anywhere. There are thoughts in my head that must be dealt with before I can do anything productive. Damn. I have never felt this way before. That is no joke, either. Never.

I am still dying to scream everything to someone willing to listen and who can hopefully be understanding rather than judgmental. And who is that person? No idea. None. I doubt I will ever find the right pair of ears. I’ve spoken of difficulties before and regretted entire conversations. Unfortunately, once the information is out there, I have no recourse, nor do I have control over what has been said. This is the same as when I described the music which resides in my heart. If I share it, the information could spider out in other directions without my knowledge, and I simply can’t have it. My paranoid nature will not allow me to relax about anything. I have no way of knowing what type of reaction I will receive, either. As I said, once it is out there, I could be finished for all time. The only way to be safe is to remain closed off, along with all of the bad shit that comes with it. A machine would work, but I’ve already railed on about that crap for years.

For the tenth time, I’ve seen too much. I was floored the first time after that fucking dream, but then later there were more visions, the last of which turned me into a blathering idiot. I could not add two and two for hours afterward. I knew there was something going on in there already, but the confirmation was almost too much to bear. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. And then the pants. Too fucking much. I’ve sat at this machine for two days trying to make a decades-old game sound the way it used to with the original hardware. A little while ago I took a step in the configuration and found that my efforts bore fruit. I still have to strike a balance between the screen size, resolution, hardware acceleration and music, but the bottom line is that the audio is right where it needs to be. The rest is simple and requires nothing more than some trial and error. There are numerous resources on the infernal Internet for making adjustments to the interface. I’ll have it in good shape very soon. This is all wonderful after believing for the last few years that I would be forced to actually build a vintage machine with the actual hardware just to play the game and hear the music as it was in ninety-six. I am overjoyed about persevering and finally hearing the fruits of my labor. Unfortunately, all the while, and right below the surface of my happiness is turmoil that will not let go no matter what I may be doing or thinking. It’s always there because of the dreams, the striking visions, and a few things I cannot mention. Believe me, there is nothing I can do about the situation. I am still writing about it because I have no other recourse. The writing does not help, really. It just gives my fingers some exercise.

I am planning to grill a roast this evening, so I went and prepared everything outside and placed the meat to warm on the counter. I usually have to work backwards, meaning I’ll pick a time to eat and then work in reverse with the clock. An hour to warm, twenty minutes to rest, and then the cooking time. I guess that type of thing is common. Anyway, everything is ready for dinner later. And now I see Charlotte again. This show has been on the back burner for quite some time due to my affinity for the vampires. Charlotte’s image has been here in the last year, I believe. Maybe more than one, but I can’t recall right now. Good God that woman is unique. The sad truth is that this sequence is not good, but at least Charlotte is something to see. Something special, to be honest. She helps reinforce the dreams. The dreams reinforce the sin. The sin is permanent. Dinner will be a distraction for a little while, nothing more. Everything will come back no matter what I do.

The time is nigh for me to move away from this and have a drink. The morning will be nice, too. I have to keep the house quiet, and that means I can don the MDRs and put on my show while considering the nature of my universe. Saturday mornings are always peaceful. Not in my head, mind you, but in the house.

Saturday morning hath arriveth without fanfare for the common webmaster. The morning doth have form, however. Coffee (with the correct cream this time) is next to me, the cats are fed, and I have my show and the headphones. The view out the window this morning is very nice. Soon the sun will come over the hill and force me to close the blinds for a little while, but until then I can see the trees and houses, birds and grass.

There had been trouble brewing early this morning and I calculated that I would not make it to lunch without falling on my face. The coffee does help, though, not to mention having the time and space to think about everything in a calm manner. Yesterday came to mind and brought me visions of impossible situations yet again, one of them being the fact that I ‘knew’ what was going on inside that place. I suspected and then my suspicions were confirmed in the worst way conceivable. Today I have very little to do outside the norm. The vision will likely remain with me during the work, so I’ll be mindful when trying to push the morning into the past and moving forward without letting it get the best of me, like some days ago. I really don’t want to see anything else because the sightings are nothing more than sparks. I already have an open gas line inside my brain. Two plus two...

The girl that Edmure was given turned out to be the most beautiful in the room. Well, aside from Talia, that is. All this shit from the television programs muddies my mind at some point each day, yet I keep watching because of familiarity. Sometimes I feel like an idiot, other times a genius. Thank Christ I rarely have to leave this house for anything. The media is static, whereas society is dynamic. Not good.



01

Concerned? I am


The main problem was the unbelievable combination of a beige sweatshirt with black yoga pants, and then just enough information to make me insane. I actually altered my own situation just to be in the right position for a touch more pain. I knew the pain would be there, so why not see what I could see? Right? Nope. That is why I feel like an idiot at times. I put myself right in the line of fire and forced my attention to be available and in the correct place, and then everything falls apart and I turn inward while muttering questions to myself and looking around the house as if there is a solution to be found. I saw the sweatshirt move slightly and allow for my desperate, disjoined vision to catch sight of a curve. Everything was in there. I knew everything would be in there, yet there was nothing I could do about it. I sit here feeling empty once again, with the sight of her clothing still burning circles in my head. Walking; sitting; whatever. None of it matters because I already have enough information to paint the remaining canvas of this life. There is little I can do to alleviate this shit, even for mere hours. The sweatshirt is inside me for all time, while the pants have been for some months. I have never felt such a desperate desire to know everything; see it all right in front of me. Everything. No clothing. The closest I shall ever get to such a dream has already passed by... I saw Charlotte standing there forcing me to consider that the true brightness of happiness has disappeared from my life. I have to cease this right now.

0815 and I have a second cup of coffee. One of the greatest assholes in the history of fictional television was on the screen. Great acting, though. He is awesome.

I wish I had not been able to confirm those suspicions. Now I can’t go back. All the shit is already inside me and cannot be shut off like a spigot. The information is there. Every time I see something sinful, my mind goes back to each occurrence and I fall all over myself with even more sinful thoughts than I had manufactured prior to that moment. All this shit has been pouring down into a well and slowly filling the space. Eventually it will overflow onto the soil and I’ll be finished. Oh, don’t worry... By the time it overflows I will probably have seen and described many more aspects of that beauty and penned an equal number of veiled, desire-filled entries. Nothing can stop the flow of shit through my tired head. Maybe I should drop myself into the well.

0845. I keep thinking of Charlotte standing there and the relational analysis in my head continues to connect her to the other one. They are quite similar, to be sure, yet to fully know the answers, I really need much more information. I can see Charlotte any time I wish. I can capture images (her face has already been here four times, I think) and edit until the cows come home. I can watch all of her programs over and over for the rest of my life. At every step of any of those processes, though, will be thoughts of the other one all over me. The fucked up bit is the fact that though Charlotte is radically different from the other one, she is still not a person to whom I will ever be close. Eh, it’s always the character, anyway. Not the actor. I know nothing of her aside from whatever the production did to make her appear the way she did. Whatever. This entire paragraph is a waste of words.

Saturday morning means I can keep everything nice and comfortable right here at the control center. That is a good thing and a reminder of the benefits of no longer being employed full-time. My Saturday and Sunday mornings were sacred when I worked each week, and believe me when I say that they still are despite my being home all the time. I just hope nothing changes in the next few years because if I have to work full-time, I’ll lose my fucking mind. That is not a joke. For ten years I needed to be home all the time and now I am. I cannot easily go backwards.

I still see the sweatshirt. I see the breasts moving inside. I see the glimpse of a curve and the resulting pictures that were automatically painted on the canvas of my brain. I see everything, yet never what I need. The information is right fucking there, too. All of the information that I suspect, just like that day when there was confirmation of the most unbelievable details imaginable. And I can imagine quite a bit. This is only the beginning – the titles including the word ‘sin’ – and believe me when I say that I will tell the stories in every possible way until I run out of ideas. Just the beginning. The topic is more compelling than anything in my life, past or present. There are dreams in my head that have been there for decades, yet just since last year I have another which carries more power than all of the others, by far. All I can do is sit here and think about everything, try to analyze and then type the words, and go through the motions each day to find the little comforting situations, like right now. Oh, I am comfortable alright, yet there is turmoil. It never stops. When I saw confirmation that my suspected information was correct, the condition of my head worsened for two parallel reasons. One is that there is more going on inside than I could have dreamed, and two is the realization that no matter how desperate, sad, or suicidal I may become as a result of this condition, nothing can ever come of it. Not a fucking crumb.

The Passion represents a ton of desire. It is an inanimate object, though. The other desire is much stronger. Pause for the cause. I will come back to this at some point.

The time is now 1116 and I finished my daily routine. For a change of pace, I do not have any video media playing, just music. The reason is historical, to be sure. One of the most important albums of my life is in the background with the volume rather low. I don’t need anything loud right now because there are already thoughts screaming inside my head. I am reminded of those years sitting in this office with music and alcohol, all the while with my mind conjuring images of far-off landscapes (and escapes). I used to write with music playing rather than streaming media because the availability was direct and much better than that of the Internet. Most of the nonfiction was assembled from this very position, albeit driven by the difficulty in being in society during weekdays with a head full of visions and other issues. The sights began to remind me that I’ve been to locations necessary for my survival and basically sunk myself into those places with warm, loving arms around me, some bought and others real. Not a day goes by that I don’t yearn for those times – artificial as they were – and the periods of my life when I had the necessary resources to embed myself in the same. The most amazing example of them was when I met Andrea on the way to Pensacola, soon after having modified my itinerary to include that goddess and Las Vegas. Oh, my... Right now I have the music of my life combined with a fatass cocktail and the memories of that ill-begotten trip are pushing me to do something reckless. Ooh-fa, I don’t need to feel that shit right now. There is nothing in the world more empowering and satisfying than breaking free of everyday life and running away to some wondrous, beautiful and exotic locale, and for me the only destination which is all of those is the goblet. Being there with Andrea was the tip of the iceberg for us, having spent three weeks gallivanting and spending money on comforts that are otherwise unavailable in everyday life. I ran away in zero-two, three, ten and eleven, and believe me when I say that each occasion held its fair share of pitfalls, mostly after the fact. Would I do it again? Oh, fuck yes. Nothing holds more sway over those who are familiar with my lifestyle and desires. Nothing. Today is the type of day in which I would be the hell out of here in a cold minute with the proper resources. There can be no doubting such a fact. I still need it all these years later. At this very moment, in fact.

I believe the closest I’ve felt to those early periods was five years ago when we took off in a rental car for Palm Desert and over a week of restaurants, the Sea, and a feeling of detachment from this world. I was working full-time back then, too, so getting the hell out of here and feeling such freedom was wonderful. There is a slice of that feeling each day since I am not working, believe it or not. Not enough, of course, but I need to be thankful that I am not mired in the work shit anymore. The problem now is not work, but the idea that if I can break free and bury myself in some errant fantasy, perhaps the recent deviant and sinful dreaming can be pushed aside for a time. I already know nothing can take it all away permanently, so the idea of a temporary reprieve is pretty fucking nice. I am seeing 1143 on the clock and my drink is nearly gone, meaning I need to think of heading to the wine store to pick up the order. Believe me, I could begin to actually blast the music and sit here all fucking day, but I am afraid work must intrude if the quality of life is to be maintained in this little house. I’d rather hop in the car and drive six hundred miles to the destination of the gods, honestly. Eh... I can’t. I have to remain close and go through the motions of this period while avoiding anything insane.



02

Right over there


1352. I took a little trip over the hill to the big wine store and picked up an order, then went back inside for a few add-ons, most notably a huge bottle of orange Goose. Yummy. On the return drive, I slid into the market and grabbed some stuff for tonight’s dinner and lunch during the game tomorrow. Now I have everything in order and a nice stromboli in the oven. After lunch I may cruise out to the garage for a while and consider my next project, which is the backing plate from my broken neon sign. I plan to work out a way to light it from the outside and inside so it can be displayed in the empire. The work is going to take a lot of planning, for sure. It should prove to be nice when finished. Holy God is Nathalie a morsel. Ugh.

I did a lot of daydreaming this morning, mostly regarding those trips of the past. Sometimes I absolutely yearn to get the hell out of here for a while, and other times I don’t really think about it that much because the prospect is so improbable. Such a fact does not diminish the idea, though. I do miss those days. Unfortunately, my place in the world has become so truncated that the very thought of going anywhere feels a million miles distant. The last trip to the high country was in late twenty, more than two years ago. I doubt a repeat is on the horizon. At least going to the hotel and enjoying a change of scenery and some agreeable meals every six months felt like an escape of sorts. Better than nothing, really. The passage of time and vacation ‘dry spell’ is working on my insides in a bad way, hence the recollections of running away. I really want a repeat of the trip from five years ago.

This control center is super comfortable, and not just physically. When I sit here, I remember damaging times with booze in hand and the keyboard awaiting my haphazard thoughts. Between fifteen and sixteen, I didn’t have much to say. Seventeen? That was a bit different as the tragedy faded from my immediate attention, plus that was the year I decided to branch out and write more about the past than I had prior to losing Her. Memories flooded me daily and I took to the keyboard with plenty to say about running away and drowning into illusions. I suppose sitting here now brings back the dreams of being free, even if only temporarily. I can’t do that now for a few different reasons, but at the same time, my needs and desires in such a direction are supported.

Today would have been the only day available to visit the big RV show across the bay. Last week was my birthday shindig and football playoffs dictated the rest of the weekend. I am both happy and sad that we did not drive over there to see that wondrous, stirring show. Happy because the memories of visiting with my dad likely would have dropped my mood several notches, and sad because though I spent much time there dreaming and planning for the future, I still miss seeing all of the different types of vehicles and destinations. We would have been home by now, too. Well, perhaps next year I’ll feel motivated to actually make the drive. And Nathalie is not the only morsel to grace the screen in this episode. Marjorie is there, too; all cheekbones and supple lips apparent. Shit.

1516. I am running out of gas today with this endeavor. There has been an upside, though. The desire faded as I reminisced about the past earlier. Those stories generally help to keep my head from dropping too far on a given day. In each of the places I've lived going all the way back to the Midwest, I've been able to find some comfort in one form or another. This office is no different. Sometimes when I look back at all those places, I end up smiling because I made it this far nearly on my own, and considering how much turmoil has been compounded within my head and heart lately, simply surviving is quite a stretch. I am tired.

0702 on Sunday morning. I am sitting with hot coffee in front of three big, beautiful displays; the left has the image application, one browser window and the IDE, center is this window and the FTP client, and of course over on the right is my show. Outside the window, the world is still dark. My blinds are closed. I am looking forward to opening them and revealing the hills and trees. For now, the cocoon and associated devices are fairly dark. I like it this way. The morning will remain quiet for a couple of hours during which I’ll work here and then hit the first half of the routine. My game is on at noon, so I’m going to try and finish most of the Sunday business prior to kickoff. The second game is at 1530 or thereabouts (the conference championships are always convoluted and full of crap that delays the actual start of the games), and that one will probably run in the background if I have more to accomplish. ‘You’re her blood. Family; honor; all that horseshit.’ Great line, that one. Anyway, I’ll keep myself busy at a relaxing pace with the housework and then look around for whatever else I can do to improve the office or other spaces. There is always something to do. At noon, however, I’ll be on the sofa for the game. This will be a big deal because the winners from today’s two matchups will head to the Bowl in two weeks. That’s going to be as bloated an affair as has ever been. Hopefully, the commercials aren’t actually better than the gameplay. Heh. That does happen sometimes.

I have the blinds open now, forty minutes later. Now the office feels more open. Not that I mind the darkness or being closed into a dim space, of course, but the view is nice. The sky is overcast so perhaps I won’t get the typical direct sunshine through the window this morning.

The splash has been changed from the Mojo logo to that of a beautiful girl. And when I say beautiful, she is special and likely the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen on a model. I am not kidding, either. I would give anything to see her in person. Anything. Oh, and the other one... I’d give anything I have now or in the future to be with her. That last shit with the fucking sweatshirt was too much, honestly. The pants combined with the sweatshirt – and I am speaking of the colors, as well, because I love beige – launched me into desperation mode and I contorted myself so as to see as much as possible during those few seconds. Her gait alone made the whole thing worthwhile. In the past, I’ve had trouble seeing much due to her clothing choices, but the other day she was wearing the ideal pants for study. Had it not been for the sweatshirt draped past her hips, I might have lost my shit permanently. And I don’t give a good God damn what anyone thinks about me going on and on about her. I’ve been struck upside the head by too many dreams and then seeing things in reality that lend support to my feelings. I can’t fucking help it. Look at the model on the index (if you can, or if you are reading this), and think of how shapely her face is, not to mention anything else. That kind of stunning beauty moves me unlike anything else in the world and I become vocal when the frustration overwhelms my senses. I have never wanted anything so badly. That is not a joke, either. This is not good. My situation continues to worsen by the day. Don’t sit there and think that my free time and little routines around the house are helping very much. They are filling the spaces between those incidents with the power to fucking bring me down for good. No one is listening. Do I sound pissed off?

Good morning.

I think another hour in this chair and I’ll have to branch out. The chair is comfortable, but remaining in front of the monitors for extended periods is not good for my health. When the mood strikes, I will return and continue writing about all those impossible situations that enter my head hourly.

The last few days have been easier on my head and I don’t know why. I certainly hope nothing has changed in any manner over which I do not hold some semblance of control because I’ve been in a bad enough mood as it is. No more bullshit is required. This morning, for example, I wholly expected to fall off a cliff and daydream of her to the point of driving myself crazy, yet it has not happened. The reminiscing does help, I guess. Maybe that’s why my head is still on straight today. Sometimes the tumblers line up and slam me. Sometimes they don’t. This is a mystery. During the middle of the week, I really could not get her out of my brain, nor could I stop the steamroller of desire inside me that disallowed any common sense. I won't even go into what took place last week when I fucking flew off the handle. Or was that the week before? Eh... The date doesn't matter anyway. The point is I don't understand what controls this type of mood change. The last time I lost my mind was some time ago. Far enough, in fact, that I can't recall the number of days, nor can I remember what drove my head into the ground. Perhaps when I ran across that model by accident she threw a switch for me while the other one remained on the main line. I don’t know. The model caught me off-guard, however. That much is certain. The other one? She is the main object of my desire and above all things in this world (for now, anyway). I can’t stop thinking about her for more than a few minutes at a time. If the model sent me off the main and onto a spur, I’ll have to flesh this out prior to attempting to return.



03

Oh, Amber... You should have killed Sarah


The weather appears cold and windy this morning. My display indicates less than fifty and I can see the trees blowing out there. I may not do much in the garage today if the sun doesn’t make an appearance. I noticed the cold affects me more now than just a few years ago. All I have to do out there is toss the recyclables and cut up some cardboard, so perhaps if I can accomplish everything quickly, I’ll be able to stay inside for most of the day. At noon I should be in good shape. And I just found myself peering out the window to see if the car rolling by was the same one that was driven by that super-cute face the other day. I think she lives in the court that I can see from here. Sometimes I make quite an effort to see a woman more clearly than simply glancing. I know that doing so for years has probably become a deep enough habit to where I’ll look without even realizing the extent of such a maneuver at times. Oh, well. I know I’m all fucked up anyway, so if another person takes issue with my behavior, they will receive an unrelenting load of information that is both harsh and most unwelcomed. Where was I before becoming distracted by a sliver of a chance of seeing a cute face? Ah... The work today. I am at this moment enjoying the last of the coffee, so pretty soon I’ll be getting dressed and moving around to take care of some business. I still need to keep the house quiet, unfortunately, but I can work with pretty much any situation.

Behind every single thought or word is the realization that I am in a very bad situation. I am desperate, weak, and overwhelmed by sinful thoughts that should have never entered my head. The fact that they have taken over is a clear indication of the depth of my desperation. Only so much can be said, however. Just know that no matter what you may see here as far as positives or uplifting words, right on the heels of everything is depression, suicidal thinking, and the most desperate longing every in my life. Nothing goes away, and nothing helps.

Oh, and not one soul on earth is listening.

Capturing images, editing and then including them in these entries is such a breeze that you can expect the same practice for a very long time. Just wait until I go back to watching the gangsters. You thought there was a lot of Jamie on the site? That was nothing. Heh. The love of my life, that woman. Her vast beauty shall be splayed here for all time, mark my words.

0857 and I am beginning to feel as if I need to do something else. My thoughts have been transmitted to the keyboard for nearly two hours. Pause for the cause.

1115 is what I see on the clock. I have the routine nearly finished and a few other things out of the way. The dishes are drip-drying for the time being. My game is in less than an hour, so I have a little time to sit here and think. That last word rhymes with ‘drink’, and there it is by the right-hand display. Whiskey helps me, and if that makes me something, so be it. I will live as I see fit. Anyway, I still need to remove a few science experiments from the refrigerator and toss the trash from the house, but I have plenty of time. I calculated that the ideal time to care for some of it is halfway through the game. I’ll be making something good for lunch, yet I still have not decided whether to cook before the game and have it ready for kickoff or wait until halftime. As of yet, I’ve had some toast and do not feel hungry. Well, I was a bit hungry for what was wrapped in yoga pants and walking past my garage earlier, though. Eh... Nothing I say or do matters anymore, least of all whatever desire I might be feeling at a given time. I may as well focus upon the housework and football. Everything else is representative of the nails sticking part way out of my fucking head. This well is deep, and I am not far from the bottom. Bless the routine and Sunday business. Bless it.

I think that super-cute girl just emerged from the court and drove by. I know absolutely nothing of her, yet I already want to apply my lips to tender parts of her body. What does that say about me? I will answer that for you... The feelings represent a level of desperation brought on and further exacerbated by circumstances born of other people’s treatment of me. I have been affected so much that what you read here is what I’ve become after all these years. Believe it. I am a good person buried within bad thoughts. I am mired and weak; tired and desperate; fearful and bleeding. And there is more, but I cannot reveal what has become the ‘worst of everything’.

1434 on the clock now. The game is three-quarters of the way finished and it’s not good. I don’t even know where to start right now, but the fact that I have the game on my right-hand display should say something. I turned off all of the televisions because I can’t get myself to be positive about this shit. The game will remain over there until such time as I’ve had enough. On the plus side, I have all of the garbage business finished, I cleaned the kitchen for a second time after having lunch, and I cleaned out the fridge a bit. All I have to do now is wait to see what comes from the City before rolling the cans to the curb. My mood is so far down that I only had one football beer. That is rare. Oh, and I just turned off the game in favor of my program. That means two things. One, I don’t have any confidence that we can achieve a win (or even get close), and two, I will not be watching the Bowl in two weeks. Aside from the big game being completely overblown, way too commercialized and including the requisite shitty fucking halftime show, I’m not going to care who wins. Besides, there are bigger fish in my head all year long, let alone during football season. I have to fry what I can, the games be damned. I’m done with that until September.

So, my entire day had been structured around the two championships and now I don’t know what the fuck to do with the time. The other game in a few hours no longer matters. I will not be watching that one, either. What the fuck to do with my time is the question now. No idea. Sitting here is always comfortable, yet most of what I’ve been wanting to say cannot be as such. That means there is not much to type. I am inside a well built of sins; some having been committed by me and others I can only wish to commit. Lots of them. I’d go into detail but knowing where to begin would be impossible. There are too many. There is too much now. The content of this essay has wavered all over the rails because if I was to include only what really matters, there would exist but one paragraph. And that would be the end of the site.

I have this feeling that tomorrow is going to be one of the most important Mondays in memory.

I suppose I’ll just take it easy until dinner time. There is always something to do, but I need to actually feel like it. Right now the only thing I want to accomplish is shining this seat with my ass.

The well of sins, indeed. Ninety percent of what has been going through my mind these last few months cannot be said. Everyday thoughts, honestly. They have the power to derail anything I may be doing or thinking. I don’t want to remember what I have already seen, nor do I wish to continue using my imagination to create the most stirring ideas in existence. I have no choice due to the aforementioned bad situation. There is nothing in the world pulling me as much as the dreams. Well, the girl from the dreams. My desire for her has only increased in recent days and I have to push forward no matter the size of the well nor the difficulties inherent in finding direction. I believe the one difference between the last vision and my ability to go through the motions is the very machine upon which I am now working. Everything else is minimal. The interface and cloud have always been at my disposal, but the comfort and deep feelings this office provides are proving to be sufficient in keeping my head up. I suppose working elsewhere in the house became worn out, leading me to this new control center in front of the window. I should add that the free time I enjoy and having sway over the atmosphere in the house also help. I am still deep in this well no matter the positives that come along, however. She has a grip upon my soul. And despite my wishes to cease seeing and dreaming, I cannot control such things. The girl has all the power and represents many of the issues about which I have spouted for years.



04

Power unlike any other


Monday morning, 0652. I have my nice coffee sitting here on the table. The cats are fed and I have a little time before the early business. After the game went bad yesterday, I was still fairly productive. Nothing really slowed the Sunday progress. The only difficulty was inside my head, much like most days. I hear garbage trucks outside. Very good. I did my best to be as efficient as possible. Today? I really don’t know. The facts of the case are pointing in the direction of remaining holed up in this office for the duration. I don’t know what may transpire in my head later, so I may as well try to prepare. As for the housework, there will be very little unless I decide to break out of the norm like I did last week. Unless there is some unexpected windfall of cash or an angel comes to the door offering to help, I don’t see anything different on the horizon. And I no longer consider any semblance of a far future. The time has come to care for a little business.

0756 and here I am for the duration. There is not much to do today. Maybe I’ll take a ride to the big hardware store down the peninsula if I can actually assemble a list of items. And I’ve been spelling Margaery’s name in the common form due to having not paid much attention to the text rather than the actual programming. I could refer to her as Natalie because that is the actor’s name. Has there been an overage of Natalie here? I mean, aside from the one girl I knew? I don’t think so. Well, there was the one from the fiction, although that story never made it past the outline stage, and as such does not count here at all. Not one word of it has been on the site. Whatever I decide to call her, sometimes I go nuts over her hair. Damn, so beautiful. Where was I? Ah... I need to go to the market for two items but I don’t know if I will feel like traveling all the way south to the big hardware store. If I had the items on a list and was certain of the need, perhaps the time would be worth it. Right now, I just don’t know. This chair is pretty damned comfortable and my head is a blender. I shall remain here until such time as something else calls me away.

There is little chance of anything negative taking away my thoughts today. The only possible pit in the day would be if I sit here and allow the dreams to get the best of me. The effort will be minimal if the morning continues the way it has thus far. I believe I actually learned something last week while sitting here writing about how tough some days can be. Unfortunately, I can’t spell it out, but rest assured there has been a lesson that I may have taken to heart. That is a stretch, believe me.

Curious, I’ve only heard one garbage truck so far this morning, and it was the green can being emptied. For the last few years, the gray is typically first in line, and very early. Very strange. Maybe I should take a break for a few minutes and take a look around.

Sometimes I want to mash Petyr’s face into an immovable object, but at the same time, I have no love for Sansa by this point. The situation will worsen, as well. Ooh-fa, but I chose to (sort of) watch this series again. Whatever. It’s fiction, unlike the well in which I am drowning. Moreover, the Sand sisters will be appearing soon, one of which has been pictured on the site. Holy shit, what a beauty.

I keep seeing her sweet smile inside my head. You know, the one from the dream which had us sitting together with fingers intertwined and the feeling in my heart that she was the one with the power to save me. I believe that dream is most of the reason for my continuing difficulty in dealing with all of the visions. The first thing that pops into my head when I picture her is not that last occasion and my need to peel off her top. It is my desperate desire to be free of all this turmoil while wrapped around that level of beauty. Sinful, to be sure. Lots of sin. The realm and the well. This is not good because my mindset and the fact that I am so isolated these days have combined to grossly distort my view of society. And worse? I don’t fucking care. Those that I have known for years could be out there thinking about me, or not, and either one is fine. I never expected to make a ‘mark’ upon my associations in life, anyway. I just wanted to be content. What a fucking joke. So, the dreams keep me thinking and wondering if something real has the same type of power. You know, that which can ‘save’ me. Contentment? Not yet. I am physically comfortable in this house and have all the devices to keep me as such, but there are too many holes inside for me to feel anything further. Every single hour each day finds me considering her beauty and how I need it up close. Every fucking hour, without fail. Confirmation of my suspicions didn’t help, either. Of all the shit I’ve seen in this world, she carries something so overpowering that there is literally nothing I can do to effectively deal with it. I am far too weak and broken to flex a fucking finger. But... My imagination is still plenty strong. Just trust me; in my mind I’ve already seen and done everything. Every fucking sinful, deviant situation has been explored. This is just another reason why I can’t stop seeing her.

‘Lop their fuckin’ heads off. And don’t forget the kids. The stupid children will doubtless grow up to be just like their parents. Remove all the problems, not just a portion’.

0932 and I feel stuck in this chair. There is not much to the routine today, nor is there much of anything else unless I decide to go to the store. My mind is awash with all manner of deviant thoughts. Let us see where this leads...

The time is now 1119 and I have everything finished. I also had a snack. At each step of my routine, there were seconds of desperate thinking interspersed within my brain’s processes. Those seconds are still repeating inside my head even now. I don’t like this very much, to be honest. As a person, I can deal with quite a bit, and have learned much through my first five-plus decades of living on this spinning globe. That is not to say ‘everything’, though, as there are still daily reminders of just how fucked up and distorted I have become. In fact, just last night was another, and something very unexpected considering the cozy nature of the evening. It was not a slight, mind you, but a touch of conversation which demonstrated to me just what I represent to other people. I don’t have the inclination to deal with that shit right now, however. The occurrence shall remain on the back burner until such time as I can deal with it. The television program was involved after I made a remark about the fucking whack-job of a ‘priest’ within the story. The actor is fantastic, always, yet the character should have been torched by one of the dragons. I am not kidding, either. He’s a fanatic, much like many individuals that are living around the world at this very moment. The issue last night related to him but I am not at liberty to describe what transpired. And it isn’t the end of the world. I have so much going on that relates to the girl and the dreams that I don’t even have the fucking time to deal with something closer to home. And? I really don’t give a shit. This is the most pleasant I am to be for the remainder of my days. Speaking of me ‘dealing’ with things, the truth is other people will have a much more difficult time dealing with me than what is required for the reverse. Believe it. I am worsening by the day.

And who in the fuck just dropped into that car by the court? Holy shit... Gray yoga pants wrapped around something special. God damn it all, anyway. Five seconds and I already want to apply my lips and tongue to what is inside those pants. Isn’t that just fucking precious? Ugh. I hate everything right now. I fucking hate everything.

My ‘middle class tax refund’ card arrived today. I guess that’s a good thing, but I still don’t know about the joystick idea. I may end up spending a bit of money on a system that cannot communicate with the emulator. Wasting cash these days is not good. Maybe I will draw cash off the card and return it to the monthly operating budget that already keeps me about as comfortable as I can be in life. There is Nathalie again. Oh, God... She is so lovely and exotic. Talk about a woman I’d love to...

Never mind. You already know a bit about the condition of my fucking head.



05

Who the hell is that girl with the fucking lips?


Where was I? Ah... The refund. Maybe I’ll get a new wristwatch. There have been several that blew my skirt up recently. Two, in fact, although my instinct is to send the money straight into expenses rather than luxuries. That old feeling kicks in and I begin to browse, and then an item comes along which I previously did not know I couldn’t live without. Heh. I’ve done that for years, so perhaps it is time to just ignore the card and let it flow into the bank as if it never arrived.

1312. I went to the store and picked up what was needed. Nothing going on over there. Well, nothing of note, anyway. The middle of a weekday is the best time to shop. Easy in; easy out. I am now back for whatever the afternoon has in store. I poured myself a small orange Russian because my mood is decaying, although I don’t believe it will get out of control today. I just need something nice next to me as I sit here and contemplate the nature of my world. The booze helps to calm the cyclone of dreamy situations that develop inside my head throughout the days. I don’t know what else to do anymore, and the cocktail pays no mind.

The first dream involved the bra strap and manicured fingers. That morning when I awakened, the entire world went aslant because I had not thought in such terms before. I needed lots of time to think about what I saw, but as you may well know, time is always on my side. The second dream was different, yet near the same location. The subject was a different person and someone I had not seen before. At least, not that I’ve been able to recall. Oh, but the third dream fucked me up for good. The same individual as the first, yet involved in a much more complex turn of events which left little doubt in my head as to the fact that she wanted me physically. The third dream caused the most damage of all of them to that point in time. The next was more emotional and not terribly physical, yet the underlying idea was she had come to save me. A kiss, and then another. I knew she had become my doxy, my lover, and a person of which I had dreamed for more than two years. All those drives up and down the coast involved lots of searching and visions of beauty, each one entering my head not as physical desire, but emotional support. The girl in the dreams took over the visions and the entire search, for all intents and purposes. She really did. I can see her hands, fingers and smile to this very second. I can hear her voice, as well. She has been the subject of more daydreaming and manufactured situations than the girl at the pool more than three years ago. That is saying much, if you have not been paying attention. The girl in my dreams is also the genesis of the sin. She is now a part of a very special group of beauties ranging from the CD changer girl from ninety-three, the rollercoaster girl from the mid-zeros and none other than the race girl. Yep, the one whom I still dream almost daily. My own Winter, if you will. God fucking damn did I ever want to grab her and run for the fucking hills. Think about all of this. Go back in time and then fast-forward to this very moment. Look at the words. As an aside, the girl on the right-hand display right now is in the same group. She is amazing and I want her, but I will not reveal why. Getting back to the main subject of this latest mess, the damaging dreams shifted my thinking from one side of the compass to the other, and have distorted my view of the universe. The word ‘desire’ is just not enough anymore.

1340. I am tired of thinking. Maybe when my drink is gone, I’ll head to the garage and begin calculating the best way to display the remains of my neon sign. I think it’s a good idea, to be honest, and if anyone can make it beautiful, I am the person. I think my best plan is to have a snack and then get away from this chair for a while. I could use a sizable distraction right about now. Pause for the anger.

Well, I laundered some clothes and pondered the old neon sign backing for a little while. Not really a swing of the hammer, but there was loud music involved. The last couple of hours have had me considering my circumstances and the world around me. Sometimes the prospect of heading into the garage and blasting agreeable music helps me think. The only downside is when I drink too much and continue to increase the volume until people begin to look across the street at my open garage and appear concerned. That did not happen today... Yet. I am trying to avoid such a situation in favor of enjoying a nice, quiet evening without feeling so jaded that I can’t function. The last time I blew up the garage with doom metal caused a lousy evening and I don’t want that right now. I need the peaceful nature of the norm over anger. The true sum of all this shit is the idea that underneath everything is anger. I don’t believe it will go away, ever. This is not a situation in which I have degraded into an idiot who only thinks of himself. The scope is much larger. I’ve been affected by others, either their actions or inactions. Take your choice. The situation is such that every now and again the anger comes to the surface and I must exercise the only sway I hold in this world, and that is the atmosphere in my garage. It has happened. It will happen again. There is no removing the anger buried deep inside me. The dreams show me possibility, yet reality does not. At least I finished the laundry and scoped the project for a while.

The previous paragraph, as combined with my shit attitude back in November, has demonstrated to me that the audio system inside my garage is not nearly powerful enough to fully express my mood at times. I’ll have to do something about it when the funds are available. Powerful, quality audio reproduction is not cheap. Not by a damned sight, believe me. I’ll get there, however. It is just a matter of time. Societal standards be damned to hell. I don’t care.

I need help, unless that has not already been fairly obvious.

I want her so badly that I can barely think straight and there is nothing I can do about it, nor can I speak to another human being on the subject. Eventually something will change, although said change will not be pleasant. My body is rotting away.

Right now I am pondering dinner and a comfortable evening, nothing more. I need to think this way because there is no other comfort available in my life these days. In the next two hours, I’ll have the third show on two televisions and a cocktail as I curl up on the loveseat and relax. Those aspects of weekday evenings are always nice. The air outside is very cool and dry. I may light the fireplace tonight for warmth. Dinner will be a simple affair, too. All I need to do is reheat leftovers in the oven and relax. Evenings are peaceful. Mornings are peaceful, although sometimes fraught with difficulties that are tough to overcome if I am to be productive. I don’t know what the hell has been happening lately, but some of those troubles have been nearly completely absent. I don’t understand. If there has been a change in the way I operate as a person, I fail to grasp the reason. At least I can still type on this wonderful keyboard. In the grand scheme of my life, this office and the new computer are massive positives. I really needed this atmosphere.

I am going to cancel the ticket reservation for the race in July. This will be the first occasion of me missing the event in almost ten years. The last two have not been very enjoyable because like many other aspects of motorsports it has changed much from those of the past. There is no more being close to the race teams and the truncated nature of viewing areas has left the experience lacking in any sort of connection to the sport. Last year I had the idea of altering our typical schedule by not bringing lunch to the grandstand, instead opting to remain in the pit area with our cameras rather than following the brackets. After realizing that I captured only three images in as many hours, my mind soured to the idea of being there at all. I will call tomorrow about the ticket invoice and request a refund. The racing teams are just too detached from fans, and the track is far too distant from the stands as compared to many years ago.

There is another fracture on the right-hand display. Like the race, I don’t fucking care anymore. All my strength will be required if I am to leave everything behind and be pleasant this evening. Quite a stretch, that shit. I can do it. I (almost) always do.



06

Oona, second only to the Raven


0652 on a dark Tuesday morning. This may be the day that I fall all the way through the floor. After the dream I had earlier, I just don’t know if I can move along today and accomplish what I need without my head leaving this house and doing its own thing. I only have so much control despite all of the tools I’ve gained in dealing with depression for years.

I can’t describe the dream here, though. The situation was such that I became irritated after a loving conversation and understanding. I was upset because of being disregarded more than once and very disappointed in the lack of recourse. Very upset, for sure, but no matter what I said or did, the resolution was avoided and I ended up near a bunch of people, most of whom asked why I had become so irritated at a social gathering in my honor. I wanted to get out of there but could not find any of my things, so I went back and tried again only to find myself in the wrong room and realizing the entire affair was going to go bad. I am going to be thinking about that dream for a while, trust me. If the morning goes sideways, the cause will be clear. And I know this entire paragraph is lacking a clear topic, but you’ll just have to live with it. I can only say so much, and this time I actually know what everything means. The story is playing out inside my head like a projector that need not be rewound.

0817 and the remainder of the day is mine. So far this morning, my head has not gone as far sideways as I had predicted. Not bad. I have my second cup of coffee and the show over to the right. Earlier, I was able to gain access to the online account for this tax refund and set it up to transfer money to the bank. I’d rather not deal with the card the state sent to most people. And there is Charlotte again. I want to lick her skin. Anyway, the money came out of nowhere and is heading straight into the general household needs. The Winter has been quite cold for this area, meaning the furnace runs a lot, and as a result the gas bill goes through the roof. I’m happy to help maintain our comfort and way of life here. This computer and associated hardware has been a big boost to my daily life, so any other money that comes my way will be used in support of whatever may be needed at the time. The refund is just another little boost.

I am going to remain at this table for some time today. Holy Jesus fuck is Myrcella ever a dish. Another blonde, too. Very interesting. As I was saying, I’ll be here for a while today because I need to relax and consider everything. I do my best thinking while in this office. And for the tenth time, my days are pretty much my own. I’ll have a bit of work like most days. Minimal, but some. Whatever happens between now and close of business today, the most important issue is to keep my head out of the din. There was another clue as to my condition on the screen a while ago. Once I saw it, I knew the road today was going to be uphill. Last cup of coffee.

The well just keeps welling. Filling? I don’t know, but I am far enough below the surface to realize that there is not likely a way out of here. The wall around me – a circular, brick-laden structure – is covered with things I have typed on the site and imagery from my brain. Yes, even THAT imagery; the stuff from last year and those more recent sightings that both confirmed my suspicions and flattened my fucking life. I have never seen such words splayed across the surface before me, nor have I been able to come to terms with any of them. My thinking has become far too sinful, not to mention dangerous. I must remain quiet despite the dire circumstances and level of desperation.

The dream this morning did not help a fucking thing.

The clock now displays 0905 and I am still planning to sit here for a while this morning. The show is not blowing my skirt up as much as in recent days. I may switch to something else soon. My head has not gone too sideways, so perhaps this day will turn out better than I had thought earlier. I don’t want to see anything, if you get my meaning. No reminders of the visions, either. I don’t need that kind of shit right now. The temperature outside is very cool so I won’t be doing anything in the garage. I can straighten and further streamline the office, take care of my daily routine, and perhaps move in some other direction. One idea I had some months ago was to sell off a watch or two in the interest of financially supporting the household. That is very important considering the weather having driven up the heating bill during the last couple of months. I have to take steps to maintain quality of life in this little home. Gaining this machine and having my office in good working order means my other hobbies must take a pause in favor of everyday necessities. The office is a huge boost to my comfort. Perhaps when my routine is finished, I’ll break out the camera and capture my most valuable wristwatch to list for sale. I honestly won’t miss it like some of those that were sold in the past. I really don’t mind.

Charlotte probably looks wonderful on all fours. Just saying. Oh, and Roose will be in big trouble very soon. I feel for him, but to be honest, he has little knowledge of his son’s disturbed nature. Some, but not much. Ramsey is a piece of shit, but Iwan is amazing in the role. Writing aside, if you hate the character, the actor is great. I still don’t like Sansa, though.

I am overjoyed to be home all the time and having devices available for comfort. There can be nothing else so rewarding as this period. Yes, I am deep in the well of sins and think of them every minute of every day, but at least I am not out there in savage places and near people I’d rather avoid (pretty much everyone). Remaining here each day also minimizes the number of occasions that find me falling all over myself because of beauty. There have been visions, dreams and other problems, of course. I’ve seen plenty, and there will be more. The choice of traveling here and there and seeing far too much or staying in the house and dealing with the occasional issues is an easy one. Combining what I used to see with the turn of events that began last year would probably break me in half for good. I’d likely be pushed into choosing a pair of ears and gushing everything out of sheer desperation, and then my head would go far enough south that I would not survive.

1138 is what I see on the little clock down at the right corner of the taskbar. 1138, and everything related to the routine is finished, plus my lunch is cooling on the left side of this big table. I am here in the office for the duration. I haven’t even opened the garage door, and that is something that represents the beginning of my day nearly all of the time. The mood dictates my connection with the outside world. Today there is no connection whatsoever. And I realized the only thing upsetting about Cersei being fucked over by the high sparrow was the loss of her beautiful hair. I fucking hated that character (as did many others), but the beautiful hair is another matter entirely.

The morning was not good by any stretch of the word. I suspected something changed roughly a year ago, too. Now I have all but confirmed such. I don’t know what to do. I can’t speak with anyone. I can’t solve the problem. Those I would blame are mostly dead. As for the rest? Well, perhaps I am too nice a person. What a pity. My imagination will always move in directions that cannot be matched in reality. Always. Maybe I should nap before close of business hours today. I feel weak and affected, meaning the only two paths before me are both very negative. I can only hope that I do not become so weakened that I reach or lash out. They are reactions, not solutions. If something happens, I will come out the other side no better. That much is certain. And I need to lick Nathalie’s labia.

Yesterday I ventured to the garage to ponder and plan a way to light the plastic backing left over from my neon sign. The air was very cool despite the sun shining on the garage roof all day. I was a bit uncomfortable, for sure. The music was nice. I calculated a few different options for lighting the visible portions of the sign, too, yet did not do any real work on the project. The weather was just too cold. While out there, I ran a load of laundry and had it finished within an hour. I really don’t feel like going out there today even though I am angry about these circumstances. Nothing will be served, nor will any work or music make any difference whatsoever. Again, I will come out the other side no better than I am right now.



07

Charlotte has the lower face thingy


I know part of the reason for this specific situation, and I am somewhat at fault. I can’t go into detail, however. There was a period in the past during which I pondered if my happiness at the time was going to be the last in this life. That was more than ten years ago. I can see details of that time. Nothing is on the horizon any longer. The time has come to get the hell away from this subject of which no one but me is aware.

The afternoon is moving along and I still have not opened the garage. Some aspects of the world are never to be understood, I suppose. Here I sit in this chair and here I shall sit until close of business, breaks aside. I simply have no reason to do anything else today. Maybe I will make pancakes for quick, early breakfasts during the coming days. Pancakes. Very exciting.

1528. I’ve been in the office all day long. The garage is still closed because it’s cold out there and I don’t feel like making myself available to anyone. I’ve been working on the idea of connecting two sets of headphones to my home theatre receiver for the purpose of having individual volume controls. My hearing is such that the most important audio from some of the television programs (dialog) is rather muffled and I need it clearer. Typical headphone outputs (like those on the front panel) will doubtless run into impedance issues if a person simply splits the connection. I am going to incorporate an active headphone amplifier with individual volume controls for each channel. There is presently no way for me to manually equalize the audio output – much like I have in the garage – so I’m going to try the amplifier and see how well it works. I’d rather avoid throwing money at the situation, yet there is no flexibility for me to make modifications to the home theatre receiver. I guess the world is running out of tape loops. Heh. Not funny. Audio in general has become both digitized and generic, with reproduction equipment following close behind. The main issue is the dynamic range of broadcast audio, not just my hearing. I can’t do anything about the source, however. I’ll do what I can.

Today is the last day of January and I’ve already written more than six thousand lines of code this calendar year. That should say something about the comfort in this office as well as the state of my mind. One is fantastic; the other is not good. Clouds, wind and rain in there; snow is coming.

The evening is upon me. I’ll be here in the office for a bit longer to watch the show, though. Transitioning to the living room is nice after close of business.

0804 on the first day of February. To me, the changing of the month is all but meaningless. I don’t have a fucking schedule of which to keep track, nor are there any events on the horizon. Nothing until March, I believe. Each day will continue where the last left off, much like this morning. I have my last cup of coffee and hours ahead to do as I please or be productive. I’ll take care of my typical work, run some dry cleaning and then cruise to the market for some cream. At some point I need to pull the LEDs from under the cabinets and replace them with improved units. That shouldn’t require more than an hour or so. I can have one of my shows in the background during the process, too. That type of thing is always comfortable. I’ll spend much time sitting right here working inside myself or on whatever seems best, and then head to the store for a bit. Once the coffee is gone, my mood generally switches to production. Today will probably be spent almost entirely inside the house again because the weather is still quite cold (for this area). I have three projects pending out there, too. I’ll just have to wait until warmer temperatures. They will come. In the meantime, I will work on the cabinet lights and maybe try to make some progress in the latent bathroom. That one has been idle a long time and it’s beginning to irritate me. One step at a time. A repeat of yesterday’s turmoil is not on my schedule. So far this morning I am in much better shape, thank the maker.

The well of sins is on hold right now despite its power. I have to push it back as far as possible if I am to work through my days with any semblance of dignity. Yesterday was nearly ruined due to the dreams and I simply can’t have that shit again. Not today. Everything rather came to a head, for lack of a better phrase, and I fell from on high. This day began on a positive note and I fully intend to maintain such a line. I need to feel good by closing of business or I fear tomorrow will find me wrecked. I still see everything in my mind’s eye, however. This is an uphill battle and will continue to be as such, meaning vigilance is key right now. Key.

0917. I am still relaxing at the control center despite the coffee being gone. The show is to my right. I’ll have to rise and do some work very soon.

I need to solve the equalizer question. There is no way to connect an external unit to the AVR that I already have, and I do not wish to replace that piece of equipment. Doing so would be very expensive. There is a way to add a digital graphic equalizer, actually, and I found the information just a few minutes ago. Such a method would require an investment of over five hundred dollars, but doing so would add more benefits than only sound shaping. I may opt for a digital unit because using headphones would isolate two listeners from conversation. I don’t like that very much. If it takes money to solve this problem (permanently, too), so be it. I’ll have to experiment with the receiver and make certain I can switch the audio signal to optical before moving further. The addition of a couple of pieces of audiovisual equipment may be the ideal opportunity for me to rebuild and neaten the entire system. I’ve been flirting with the idea of rewiring everything for more than a year now, and the need to advance the audio to assist my fucked-up hearing is the perfect reason for me to streamline all of the components and routing. I would love to pull everything apart and start from scratch.

The time is now 1041 and I have the routine finished save for drying the dishes. I’ve been leaving them to air dry for a while before using a towel in the interest of saving water. I still have the dry cleaning awaiting my attention, plus I need to visit the small market later for a few staples.

Back to the well. No one cares about digital equalization.

‘In my experience, girls like her don’t live very long.’
‘I don’t think you know many girls like her.’

There can be no resolution to the well, nor will I ever get out. The reasons are few, yet one stands out as the main. For the umpteenth time, I can’t state that reason, and the others should be clear by now. If not, well... I suppose they aren’t. I must protect myself above all things. Anyway, seeing that nothing can be done about this situation, my only choice is to continue working through the days as I have, and as I see fit for my own survival. The pitfalls (like yesterday) will doubtless come along from time to time and leave me wishing for the grave. Again, I just have to deal with them as best I can. There is no other way right now. Believe me when I say that the well is deep, fraught with despair and negative realizations, and cannot be emptied of the water which is born of too many visions and dreams in this life.

Maybe I will drive to Taco Bell after I visit the market. I haven’t had anything from that place in a couple of years. Good stuff. Healthy? I don’t care. Sometimes I need to enjoy the food in a way that is not possible if I remain at home. Heh. I have known very few individuals that do not like the way that restaurant creates their food. And? Another ‘heh’.

I would give almost anything to apply my mouth to Nathalie’s labia, and believe me... She is not the only one, just the current interest due to my having followed this program for a few weeks. The subject of the damaging dreams is at the top of the list right now and has been for many months. Those dreams created the well of sins and the mass of sinful thoughts in my head that have not left for a second. The days roll by and my desire for her increases.

The only ‘good’ in my life right now is the morning cocktail combined with free time.

Those 'two' shall pass.

The water is rising."



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