coma.interrupted

"Wednesday.

Thought it wasn’t? Think again.

I have completed the daily routine and decided to pop lunch into the oven. The requisite cocktail is here on the table keeping me company, as is my family on the right-hand display. Rain is likely to arrive within the next few hours, and my efforts in battening down the outdoor hatches has been underway. Considering that my largest concerns during past storm seasons have been the patio cover and the huge tree in the front yard, I am sitting more comfortably after both have been dealt with for the time being. The tree was easy, the cover was not, however my work will pay off during high winds and heavy rain. I will state that my head is already more relaxed due to the changes. The storms earlier this year caused me to have dreams that the tree came down. Not good. Thanks to the pruning, the windward side will not be nearly as heavy. Moreover, recent news about climate change affecting the temperature of the ocean – which is a half mile down the street – has informed me that we can expect more powerful storm systems in the future. Curious; right now the sun is shining. I know the rain will arrive at some point this afternoon, yet right now the likelihood seems nil. Ah, shit. Famke is in this episode and just appeared on the screen. Jesus. Five-ten. ‘All sharp elbows and knees, beware.’ What a fucking goddess. Anyway, yesterday I put on the painting music after having been loosened by the foggy blue. Part of my garage door mural is complete and looks even better than I had hoped. There is something therapeutic about applying paint with a brush. I can’t explain it, but the process dates back to the cave period. I may continue painting after lunch when I transition to the garage. When both doors are closed, or nearly so, the temperature is ideal for applying the color. Lucky Jonathan gets to kiss her. Never me. Just... Never fucking me. I was speaking of storms and paint. Ugh. Whatever. Never me.

I need a road trip to the Sea. Badly.

1520. I nearly lost my way a little while ago. This has been taking place with increasing severity lately. Yesterday I painted, whereas today the idea seems ridiculous. There is something very wrong with me, and possibly outside the purview of the two shit situations. I don’t even feel like preparing dinner, historically one of my comfortable periods with the media in the background. If I lose the warm kitchen feelings, everything else is going to be fucked. Years ago I mentioned a slow decline. There can be no doubt any longer.

Thursday.

I have to visit the big store and then the produce market later this morning. The shopping trip has been on my mind for two days because I want it out of the way and wish to avoid any more imperial entanglements. I even had a strange dream involving some errant woman with amazing legs, yet the topic of the scene was not her. I am uncertain of the meaning, but I saw her while discussing other aspects of the location in question.

I see that dipshits have blocked traffic on the Bay Bridge (westbound, although the opposite direction has obviously been affected as well) and the load of vehicles already beyond the toll plaza are stuck there until authorities can clear the mass of stupidity. After decades of different protests for various reasons, I still fail to understand what people believe they can accomplish by disrupting those everyday folks who are trying to get to work in the morning. No matter how much bullshit is caused, the fucking federal government is not going to alter plans or bow to the wishes of those who break the law and cause a massive issue with traffic. Nothing can be served, ever. There is simply no way of changing policy through protest. The only result is a huge problem for the area and a shit ton of regular people who are now unable to make their way to work or other destinations. I just don’t fucking get it. This type of thing has happened on the Bay Bridge and Golden Gate for decades. Nothing changes, least of all the minds of idiots who accomplish only disruptions. This is so stupid, but at least I don’t have to drive near that area today.

The decline of the world and society is a slow burn. I’ve been saying that for two decades on the site, and even longer offline. The early nineties had me completely disillusioned with people and wishing to get the fuck out and into a place where they would not visit, ever. That’s thirty years ago. And yes, I am still here, and the reasons are wide-ranging. There will be nothing cataclysmic, overwhelming, or overly dramatic around the world, only smaller issues that continue to multiply. Decline, plain and simple. While watching one of my shows last night, I commented upon the way crime operated and was investigated just over one hundred years ago. There were many techniques and technologies that had not been invented or developed, meaning investigative practices were very different (much simpler). We now have all sorts of tools at our disposal, crime is infinitely more difficult to get away with, yet despite all of the advantages and methods for squashing criminals, the numbers continue to rise at a rate much higher than that of the population. Crime is a part of the burn. This all moves very slowly, too. The more people yell and scream about making changes to reduce shootings, robberies or the like, the less there is that we can actually affect. There are simply too many people and there is no way to alter the way they think. Slow burn. We are doomed.

Some of the Asian dancers in the ads for that big show in the City are fucking gorgeous. Damn.

1114.

My daily routine is out of the way and I finished two loads of dry cleaning. Laundry is currently running and I am not going to the market until all of it is completed. Throughout everything I’ve done this morning, the news has followed along while the saga of the bridge unfolds. All those people who blocked traffic had one goal in mind – one stated on camera that inconveniencing commuters was NOT their goal – and that was to call for a ‘cease fire’ and an end to military aid. Well, how is that going? Did the government suddenly exclaim, ‘Holy shit, they are correct... We need to listen because they walked onto an interstate highway.’ Fat fucking chance, idiots. Nothing is going to change no matter how many roadways you decide to block. Goal or otherwise, they will be remembered as a disruptive mass who accomplished nothing more than taking a typical weekday and fucking it right in the ass. Does anyone hear me? Nope. No one. Do I make sense? The entire process of such a protest, regardless of any goals reached or messages heard, will soon amount to nothing more than a bad day on the freeways. Those who make high-order policies and decisions are not going to bend one iota because a mob tried to screw over traffic. Those people speak about ‘awareness’ as if there is anyone left in the world who is still unaware of a centuries-old conflict within the holy land. Again... Do I make any fucking sense at all? Or am I alone?

YOU make the call. I am nothing more than a tiny person with a keyboard. I don’t matter, nor do my feelings about anything. Should I lay down on a highway?

I was talking about housework, but the truth is I feel strongly about the way people go about voicing themselves to society. Well, my feelings don’t matter, as I’ve already said, but sometimes I just can’t help it. This does not necessarily mean that I agree or disagree with any particular viewpoint. It only means I have feelings, as do many others. I simply express them differently.

You might expect me to be drinking at this time of day. You would be correct. Not only does the alcohol help to calm my nerves about the state of the world, but it also allows me to feel more relaxed when I need to leave the house. Moreover, my emotional state has to be dealt with somehow or I will no longer function as a person on a daily basis, and regardless of how such a statement might label me, I honestly don’t know of another way to deal with all of the shit in my tired head. I am barely able to navigate the days as it is, let alone if something comes along with the power to remove the booze from my routine. And? Call me whatever you wish. I am so far past that shit that nothing makes a lick of difference. There is not a single fucking soul on earth who can alter the way I live my life. Too much has transpired for me to entertain another opinion. There are precisely three aspects of living that I still enjoy. Removing one of them means I will fucking remove myself. There you go. Learn. And good luck.

I wonder if the president committed to altering foreign policy because fifty-plus people decided to fuck up traffic this morning. What do you think? Could it be that he heard their chanting and calculated that they are wiser than a hundred thousand others just because they broke several laws? Stranger things have happened. The whole fucking thing is damned funny, if you ask me. People just keep yelling and making noise, yet nothing ever changes. Is there a clue?

Just saying.

Today marks the fourth in trying to learn the reason for the site being unreachable. This is the fifth occasion of the URL being unreachable when I have not made any configuration changes. The issue always seems to appear within a month or so if the hosting renewal. Interesting. The last three days have had me attempting to contact technical support to resolve any issues, yet here I am again awaiting any information as to why there is an outage. I have things to do and don’t want to sit here while the company tries to reply to my requests. I just gave the ‘virtual assistant’ an ultimatum. Let’s see where this shit leads. The site is not a business, meaning I can tell them to fuck off anytime I wish. As of this very moment, I am close.

Friday.

I did not go shopping yesterday. The feeling was that I needed to remain home and work around the house. I am planning to visit two stores later this morning, and likely after the first half of my routine is out of the way. Shopping should not take too long. Upon returning, I have some preparations to make for dinner tomorrow, much like two months ago. Salad times three. For whatever reason, the ideas of shopping and cooking seemed too much to bear at this point yesterday. I don’t know what happened, but I had a strong sense of not leaving the house for any reason. Today is different and I need to take care of business. I am hoping that arriving back home feels as good (if not better) than usual. I need it. The positive aspect of yesterday is that I completed all of the laundry and dry cleaning and everything is in good order.

The other good thing is that I finally figured out why the site has been unable to load. The issue came about out of nowhere (like always), and caught me off-guard. Apparently, something changed between the master page and the way it communicates with the server-side operating system, so nothing could be displayed. The loading process just spun, endlessly. I spoke with the technical support and they placed a few ‘disabled’ extensions on the server for testing, after which I discovered errors being produced. The errors led me to redesign part of the master page code and then everything began to work as it should. Moreover, there are no more runtime errors on the local server when I open files within the IDE. Either the server-side code or the interface was updated and caused a change in the way the master page loads when called, both of which are generally beyond my control. So, the site is again live and I learned a little bit in the process. I am still not going to renew the hosting next month, however, because I don’t believe this content fucking matters anymore. I can sit here and write until the cows come home. The only difference is that no one else will see the words. There it is.

0920. When the coffee is gone, I am going to be out the door, hopefully returning shortly thereafter.

1228.

The shopping is done. As is the custom of late, I was overjoyed to arrive home after being out there among the masses. Neither store was crowded and I made it back home sans incident. Very good. Upon arriving, I took care of the daily routine and then began the bean simmering process for tomorrow. I still have to trim and boil beets, boil potatoes, and then get the refrigerator organized so two out of three salads have time to meld overnight. The third must be mixed tomorrow morning. The hour is early and I am pleased about completing my shopping in good order. I guess despite the trials, I am still capable of taking care of business when necessary. Sometimes I have to shove the issues aside in order to support others, and that is what I’ve been doing for the last couple of days. The process will take a pause, however, as soon as we return from dinner tomorrow. I’m sure all this crap being out of the way will feel good. I always say that I don’t mind helping. Most of the time that is all I do.

Format change:

Sunday, November 19th.

Well, the last few days have gone well for the most part. No issues with any of the preparation, no problems related to visiting for dinner, nor anything of note early this morning during the drive. I will say that with the last three days behind me, a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Moreover, today is football day – good or bad as the game may progress – and I have no need to leave the house. The open feeling of the clock is very nice right now. I’ll have the usual housework and then perhaps I can continue with the snowflake light project since the weather is clear. I am pleased with the fruits of my efforts thus far this weekend. Positives are always welcome, yet often elusive.

Monday, November 20th, 0842. Coffee. The usual. Well, there is one difference between today and all of the other days, and that is the fact that I don’t know what the hell to type. Perhaps I can force the issue a little bit. The holiday is Thursday, meaning I need to get many things in order between now and Wednesday.

Here I sit at the old place. I've not been to this restaurant in so long that I can't even venture a guess. Earlier this year? Last year? I have no idea. I was organizing the house this morning to prepare for holiday decorations, and out of the blue I had to get the fuck out of there for a little while. I don't know if the catalyst was my recent need for a road trip, or simply needing something different for lunch. Whatever the case, feeling the escape took mere seconds. Up the page somewhere I stated that all I ever do is help other people. I suppose today I wanted to help myself.

Curious... I walked into the lounge less than seven minutes ago to find three other people. Now there are ten. The fuck? I don't come here to be near others. Whatever. The upside is typing. This reminds me of fifteen when I was the sole liaison between the construction firm and the county regarding a massive irrigation project. Dipshit here spoke up that the installation of a gray water reclamation and treatment system was no problem for me. Within a month of that first meeting, I was hip-deep in more government water and health standards than I could have predicted and far more than I would have preferred. Since my scheduling was entirely up to me, I often stopped here for a lavish meal after attending meetings at the county health authority. No one ever took issue with my time management, either, because I was the sole representative for interpreting all of the vast information. I was the ‘rock star’ of the work, as my boss often mused. In the end, I was able to get the project approved and install what is likely the most complex irrigation system imaginable. I stated that I could do it, and then I did. There was a rub during the many meetings with the county, too, but I will get into the topic later.

That was the Raven period, as well. Nearly nine years ago. I first caught sight of Her in November of fourteen. By the middle of the following year I was ready to die. She was not the rub, either. That was another girl.

This restaurant dredges up nearly as many memories as the collective fucking goblet. Unbelievable. What I wouldn't give to fly the coop for some days and explore lesser-trod roads. After more than three years of this shit, I really need some free air. None such is the same as the desert, believe me. I planted a seed within the past two weeks, so time will tell if it bears fruit before I am gone. The last trip to the Sea comes to mind every few days and I need to repeat it. Same route; resort; everything. The more I recall that week, the more I need to do all of it over again.

All of a sudden I can’t believe I am sitting here. After so many occasions of wishing to enjoy lunch in such a place – more than a fucking year – sitting here feels very open; liberating, in a manner of speaking. Ah... Lunch has arrived.

1400, straight up. I'll be driving home very soon. Well, not too soon. I enjoy being within the bar/restaurant atmosphere. The feeling is a holdover from my younger years, during those times when I was allowed to glean the gaming culture but never quite old enough to become part of such a lifestyle. Now I can do anything I want, given that I can afford it. One up; one down. Small up; large down. I am what time and circumstance have made me. Nothing more.

Friday, November 24th, 0746.

I don’t know what to think anymore. Sometimes when I interact with those few individuals who are close by, I feel like nothing more than a utility. I suppose last night was one such occasion. Dinner was fine. Lots of work, but just fine. I cleaned periodically during the day so as to leave myself less of a mess this morning. None of it matters, of course, because I always make things happen regardless of my feelings. The downward slide may have begun early yesterday as I recalled the big holiday gatherings of the past. The memories are likely the main reason for making a traditional dinner, as well. I can’t be certain about anything these days, meaning whatever I believe is going on here should not be trusted. I just don’t know what my place is anymore.

Yesterday morning I found myself in a wormhole of photos dating back to my first trip to the Sea nearly thirteen years ago. Something put me in mind of the settlement we avoided visiting at that time. Six years ago, the second trip to the Sea came and went, and still I did not see the communities behind the mountain. Well, I’ve been wishing to return there again, and thinking of East Jesus and West Satan reminded me of the massive, twin water tanks that I meticulously documented the first time I saw them. All of those murals are gone now, the surfaces having been reworked by other artists. The original artwork will be missed and should have been protected somehow, although law in that part of the state is highly open to interpretation. Few even visit those areas. Anyway, the photos reminded me of my love for capturing trains, so another trip will have to be in order very soon. I need to be there. Much of my work through the rest of the holiday season will be toward such an end. Capturing trains is much more enjoyable in the middle of ‘nowhere’, as it were.

Sunday, November 26th, 1148.

There is not much going on with the site anymore. Will this change in the future? I have no idea. What I do know is that nothing has been served by endeavoring to splay my thoughts all over the infernal Internet. I am worse off at this moment than ever before. Believe it. The shit situations removed pieces of me that I can no longer understand, and the passage of time exacerbates every fucking empty space. All I can do anymore is attempt to hold tight to the little enjoyments and live another day. As for placing my thoughts here, well... The hosting will be going away very soon. Hmm... After visiting the registrar, I see that the site will be live for another fifteen days, after which anything I write will be confined to this machine and the local server. That is all. Am I concerned? Not at all. There is no aspect of life with the power to alleviate my decades-long depression, let alone my words no longer being published. Maybe after the site hosting goes away I can REALLY speak my mind.

Today is Sunday, meaning I have the usual business and garbage work. My routine is already out of the way, and the only necessities beyond the garbage are some wiring for the Christmas tree and possibly laundry. All of the audio components are here and the short interconnects will arrive later this week. That means I can perform some experiments very soon.

Monday, November 27th, 0714.

The tree wiring went very well and all of the lighted ornaments are operating. Everything else will be placed on the tree later today. The entire process of decorating the tree and surrounding rooms has been enjoyable, although the lighted ornaments brought me back to the glow, like always, and left me a bit sad. There can be nothing of the like ever again. Anyhow, the holiday is apparent in the living room and beyond. Aside from more decorating and the usual housework, my plan is to further streamline this office and the living room. I’ve been succeeding in reducing the amount of clutter and crap. I need to continue the process later. The dream of owning nothing more than two computers and my camera is quite unrealistic, yet I can still try. I’ve tossed so much stuff into the trash these last several months that to reduce all the way to nothing actually seems feasible, even if I can’t achieve such a goal. I’ll continue in a little while. The only result from my efforts is ‘good’. Alyssa looks amazing with permed hair. Damn.

Yesterday did not go well for my head. A disastrous situation developed – mostly due to my weakened condition, an inability to cope with what I see every day, and a measure of boredom – and then I moved away from the computer to work on other concerns. Inside, however, there was little recovery to be found. I tried; I failed (for the most part). My only paths from there are to try distracting myself from the powerful thoughts and/or attempt to rise. I made it through the day and accomplished quite a bit, so perhaps my efforts have not been completely fruitless. I don’t feel as sideways right now as I did yesterday. Maybe I can make it to the other end of the spectrum without falling on my face. Alyssa is not helping. I keep trying to picture her tenderness. Not good. I have to get away from this topic for a while. Maybe Krista there on the right-hand display will pop out of the past and the medium to arrive right here on my lap for a big, fat hug.

Maybe not. There is no good on my horizon, near or far. None of this shit matters, much like my feelings. I am a utility and a punchline. Nothing else.

Does she understand? Does anyone? Does she exist? Or do I have to continue dreaming of something that cannot be real? Look where that shit has gotten me.

0821. I have the entire day before me. Ah, shit... There is Krista again. She was always typecast for pretty good reasons, but never liked it much. Her face was so beautiful back then, though. Sometimes I look at her and can’t believe what I am seeing. Ugh. Anyway, I have the last cup of coffee and will probably begin working on some office organization when it is gone. Everything else will have to wait until later. The cables for audio experimentation don’t arrive until later this week. That project will have to wait for a little while as I do more research. The audio business brings a smile to my face sometimes because it reminds me of the car audio period and the post-glow when I worked at the calibration lab. All this stuff is very simple to me, though no one else seems to follow along when I speak of why I’ve been trying to make such changes to the sound system in the living room. Encoding/decoding; digital to analog; processing... All that stuff is alien to many people, yet it is a discipline in which I have been caught up for four decades. I can’t cease the experiments because unlike the past when I was seeking accuracy and volume, now the issue is frequency; something far more important to my ability for enjoying video media than the processes of the past. Oh, I will still build some insanity into the living room and garage, yet the main focus must be normalization of the audio signals. Everything else is frosting.

As an aside, I’ve been thinking about the race girl for the last few days, mostly due to having some images of the enigma (four of which are here), yet inside I am still pretty well goo-ga over the rollercoaster girl from so many years ago. Remember... Nothing ever goes away. The information is filed neatly and then stored for all time. I recall all of them. The race girl with her cat eyes faded for quite some time and only returned to me due to the enigma and the striking resemblance between the two faces. I will refrain from going on about the rest. I stood in front of one of them; the other... Impossible. Well, both are impossible, really, because I know nothing of the race girl. The enigma is a real person living on the other side of the country, yet she may as well be on fucking Jupiter. This is all so fucking stupid anymore. I hate it.

After my routine and a long pause, the time is now 1158 and all is not well. I had to drive to the small market for a few items and that same woman was behind the register; the one I’ve seen several times who never seems to smile. Well, my previous visit held the decision to request that she smile, and the resulting expression was a half-assed effort. Something must have been going on inside her head to display that type of smirk. This time, she actually smiled and then asked my name. The fuck? I told her, and she replied with her first name... JAMIE. What are the fucking odds? I proceeded to inform her that the most beautiful female names all begin with the letter ‘J’, and that hers stood head and shoulders above the rest. She had no idea of my point, but suffice to say that I left there flabbergasted and confused. Again... What are the fucking odds? I am back home and comfortable with my whiskey and keyboard. The rest of the day is up in the air. Considering the temperature is fairly warm, I have several options. I have no idea of what to do besides sitting here with my thoughts, however. I always feel too much loss to find clarity. This is very sad. Jamie. Unbelievable. Her name is at the top of the fucking list.

The hosting is scheduled to be canceled in fifteen days according to an email I received this morning. Splendid. Maybe I need a ‘donate’ button for potential revenue. Jesus holy God in fucking heaven above does Alyssa look amazing right now. I may need to switch to something else, lest I lose it further.

Curious, regardless of what the future holds and living through a contained, predetermined amount of time, I will be sitting at this table for the rest of my life. Splendid.

Tuesday, November 28th, 0709.

The Christmas movies are beginning to affect me, much like every year. I had the channel on yesterday while decorating the tree and living room, the resulting issues that have grown for years flaring instantly as I saw more than I should have. This will continue to happen because I need to see as much as possible due to the knowledge that I am forever detached from anything else. Anything further, as it were. There is a finite amount of time left and this paragraph is the reason. I’ll keep running those movies in the background as the season progresses due to the fact that I am a fucking basket case created through the words and actions of other people. Too bad I can’t hold anyone accountable. That could be very enjoyable. The faces and forms of the past were all over the screen last night. They drove me insane (inwardly, of course) and will again very soon. I have to see. If there is any fucking chance that some of the most important lines in the world will be on display even for a split second, I have to be watching. There is plenty to be missed, of course. I already know that. The critical feelings stem from seeing lines in motion rather than in an image. Um... Seeing them in three dimensions and reality? I end up losing my mind for a little while because there is too much torment over being near but so fucking far away. I need to see everything so badly that I end up hitting a wall and become unable to calculate even the simplest operations in life. There is a fall followed by a very depressive period before I can rise even a bit and live part way like a normal person (whatever that is). Three-dimensional lines are the best and the worst, such as that girl I’ve mentioned that has appeared on my street a few times and caused the inside of my head to catch fire with the most powerful desire I have felt in a very long time. Despite all of the pitfalls and other bullshit torture, I am going to continue to see whatever I can, short of behaving badly or calling undue attention to myself. I just need it so bad that words don’t begin the scratch the fucking surface.

Sometimes Rose has a facial expression which mimics a few features shared by a woman I’ve known for some years. She is difficult to describe. Suffice to say that she frightens me, or has in the past (I’ve not seen her or her husband for a few years). The underlying beauty is so fucking dark and amazing that I still can’t believe what I’ve seen. She stands five-nine, as well, only adding to the allure. Too bad she is the precise type of personality from which people should run at high speed in order to save themselves. Beauty on such a high level comes at a steep cost. Trust me. At least I can sit here and stare at Rose’s face without the consequences. As for the other one? I may not see her at all in the future due to my need for graphic solitude. There is a slim chance, of course, because I cannot predict, yet if I don’t see her beautiful face again that is just fine. I’ll stare at Rose and stay safe. I wish I didn’t feel this way. And holy shit is her waist narrow. Wow. I’d not seen it prior to this episode. What I wouldn’t give to wrap a seamstress’ tape around that wondrous area. Ugh. Never me. Just... Never me. I may as well wrap the tape around a fucking fence post. ‘There was a chance, but no more.’ I was so close that I could smell her skin. The lines were right fucking there, too. All of them. Well, no more of that. Everything is too different now, I am too much older, and have a difficult enough time living simply from one day to the next without adding all sorts of beauty and desire to the mix. I’d probably fall over and die on the spot. There is nothing left for me related to such facets of living. Not a fucking thing.

0747. I just went through twenty minutes of horseshit in order to capture a mystery girl in this episode. The images I was producing were black on one end, meaning something had been blocking the streaming media from being copied in any way. Well, by turning off the hardware acceleration, the black pane was removed and I grabbed a decent shot of her. There is no name in the credits, so she was probably nothing more than an extra at the time. Whatever. At least I know that I can save images as before without issue. I can look at them until the feelings become too difficult, or I can avoid them and attempt to keep my head out of the darkness. Which is best? Neither.

I rather lost my way yesterday during the afternoon and slowed the forward progress on the house. I’ll have to pick up where I left off and accomplish more today. There are always improvements to be made or stuff to be organized. I just have to get to it at some point because these items are beginning to irritate me. That is not good. Enough is on fire inside me already. When the coffee is gone, I’ll get to work.

I haven’t spoken of the forest in months. I suppose becoming overly discouraged in life has pushed some of the more important aspects of my past personality to the rear, not to mention the increasing power of my obsession having distorted the appearance of beauty and causing torture and torment on a daily basis. Those feelings were not this bad during the mid-aughts when dreams of the forest took over my life so often. Part of the lost drive could also be realizing that I might not survive inside such a place. I have become weakened and overly sensitive about nearly anything related to societal issues and ‘norms’, and the longer I remain inside this little house, the less I see myself able to enter the forest of dreams. I am simply not strong enough anymore. Beauty and loss have nearly ruined me for all time and I don’t know if there is a way out of this shit. I suppose the forest will have to wait until such time as I believe I can survive the rest.

Everything is so completely fucked up these days that I am surprised to still be drawing breath.

This is a short entry because the doors took a heavy toll on my psyche. I think about them every day.

After roughly fifty fucking emails from LinkedIn throughout the past few months, I decided to update the ‘about me’ section of the profile with a combination of both good and harsh, cutting words. There is now an explanation of why I am no longer involved in the space program, as well as reasoning for my not having worked for the last three-plus years. The shift during the early part of year twelve took the wind out of my sails, and on the heels of such a loss, I was tossed aside by the other opportunity due to the consequences of the first situation. The whole thing is just SHIT and I don’t feel like explaining myself very often. Updating the profile will either garner interest or put people off. Whichever happens will be just fine. I don’t care. Of all the shit I’ve caused and the mass of mistakes and bad decisions I’ve made, losing my career was most decidedly NOT my doing. I was treated unfairly and very near to leveraging a suit against the company for some compensation. The only rub was my attorney informing me that the mental health records included information about me consuming alcohol, and if you think about that shit for a second you’ll realize that nearly every variation of such wording can very easily remove any verisimilitude regardless of the circumstances. Once the word ‘alcohol’ enters the equation, everything can go to shit very quickly. Trust melts away. In the end, nothing happened other than an amazing opportunity being lost; one that would have carried me very comfortably into retirement. Anyway, my LinkedIn ‘about’ section has more information for all the good it may do. The funny part is of those four doors, not one is related to my past career or the one that never materialized. Very interesting. And yes, some of that crap was my fault because I ran like a fucking idiot toward beauty. Look at the images on this page. Do you think I am getting better?

There is no fucking way I’ll ever be allowed into the forest. That may have been a pipe dream from the beginning. The idea of female physical attractiveness has become so fucking skewed, distorted and overly technical to the point of driving me completely insane, and has rendered me weaker than I have ever felt in my life; hence me very likely having been disallowed entrance into the realm of the strong and merciless. But... What the hell can I do about it? Go back in time to the 1236 period when the pull was at its peak? I was ready to grade the masses aside and force my way toward a way of life that few can even know. Now? I can barely get through the housework each day without something tripping up my diminishing work ethic, most notably what has become the most uncomfortable word in the universe: beauty. Shit situation one has reduced me to a tiny person forever in need of a very specific type of understanding; two has left me unable to rise above any impediment and be strong. The keywords come to mind when I discuss the forest because each must be mastered prior to one foot entering such a realm. Have I mastered any of them, or will I be forever outside? This is a bad spur. The mainline is now obscured. I don’t know what to do.

1127. The alcohol has been flowing like a two-bit whore this morning. As a result, I decided to put on some holiday music. For some reason, the album of choice has disappeared from my library. I can fix that whenever I feel like it, however the search for media led me to an acquaintance from many years ago who shared his own very personal music with me and I still have it. Three complete albums’ worth, to be honest. Seeing the files again pushed me to find his profile on the big art website. I indeed located his space, but there hasn't been anything placed there or updated for many years. I sent a note to say hello. I have no idea of whether or not I will receive a response because if I recall correctly, he had been severely depressed for a very long time and spoke of suicide quite often. He needed the escape. A lack of response will leave me with a mystery, the type of which I have considered for decades as a legacy. I sincerely hope the only reason for his absence is a shift in interest. We shared lots of conversations back then. At least I still have the music. I’ll keep it forever (read: as long as I am here). Maybe one day I will even listen to those compositions.

Wednesday, November 29th, 0741.

I have the house to myself for the next several hours. I fully intend to take advantage of all this time by reconfiguring the office and storage space, and then I will be working on some audio experiments related to rebuilding the home theatre system. I also need to do some cleaning and my daily stuff. The typical schedule is going to be set on its ear today because I simply can’t have any more of what’s become the ‘norm’. I don’t like it anymore and the process has never been good enough to provide me with measurable peace of mind. Oh, there have been days in which I state that I feel the evenings were deserved, but the truth is I’ve been doing that just to make myself feel better. It’s not entirely bullshit, yet very close. No more of that. I have to force some changes – big or small as they may be – or I’ll lose my fucking mind. I’ve been home for more than three and a half years now. Shit must bend.

Thursday, November 30th.

I never made it to the audio stuff yesterday. Working in the office took quite a bit of time, after which I decided to do some cleaning prior to anything else. This is all so fucking exciting that I think I’m going to go nuts. Life. This is it. Keeping busy is not something I do because I want lots of things accomplished. I work through a day like yesterday to keep my mind off loss and emptiness. My head goes sideways at some point every fucking day no matter what may be taking place. Every. Fucking. Day. As of yet, I have not found a way around the bad feelings (or the others that I would prefer not to mention), so nothing ever changes. This morning is no different because regardless of housework or media or anything else, there is a giant hole inside me that will most likely never be filled by anyone or anything. I am stuck in a bad spot and only those little distractions help sometimes. Right now, for example, I am fighting my fucking ass off to avoid falling into a pit so early in the day. Not good. And I should not have to go through this every Goddamned week, either. There should be some relaxation mixed in somewhere. ‘Should’. I don’t like that word. It goes right along with the word ‘deserve’, which barely applies to positives in this world despite so much discussion to the contrary. I really don’t know who deserves what, nor can I identify what I may or may not deserve in this life. The certainty is that I feel horrible and need help, and since the correct type of help and/or understanding may not even exist, I must remain right here at the keyboard performing what has become a perpetual and possibly ill-advised analysis. I just don’t know what else to do. And since the hosting is going away in less than twelve days, I will once again be completely alone in this situation (unless I already am; there is no way to know for sure despite the analytics). This is all nothing more than a real nice fucking clambake.

The time is now 0806. I am pleased that all of the holiday decorations are already up and secure. Well, the reindeer’s antler had an issue that required a bit of repair (it’s rather a cheap decoration), but other than that I’ve taken care of everything so we can enjoy the lighting for the rest of the season. There is one more item that requires some attention that I may repair today, although it’s a wall hanging and looks pretty nice even without being lit at night.

The more I see the face of the newest character on this show, the more she resembles the other one of whom I’ve been fairly frightened for several years. The fact is, their faces and mannerisms match better and better as time passes. At least I can stare at the display without worry of being hurt. Her sheer level of unique beauty cannot be denied no matter how scary that woman is. Even after years of her being absent from the usual spots, I still find myself daydreaming about worshiping such an enigma. No, not THAT one... The other one. Eh... Never mind. I can already feel my brain heading toward a dark place. I don’t want to lose my shit this morning. I really don’t. This could prove to be a good day if I can muster enough strength to avoid the darkness. Thinking of that woman I used to know is not helping, nor is her near-match on the fucking program I’m watching. I am so full of desperate desire that I can’t believe I’ve lived this long.

'Why do you fear me?
I am your friend.
I but guide trav'lers
Rounding the bend -
Lead them to freedom
From time and age,
Help them start writing
On a new page...

Seek for me never,
Keep your course true -
When I am needed
I'll come to you.
Then I will show you
Roads without end -
Why do you fear me?
I am your friend.'

-- Clarence E. Flynn

I don’t know what the rest of this day may entail. I can force the issue like yesterday and complete a bunch of items, or I can sit right here and slide down that familiar grade into a pit of realization. Which is the better choice? YOU make the call because I really don’t care anymore. I may have to do something demonstrative in order to display my mood. I have know idea what that may be, however. Every time I decide to flare a bit, nothing really comes of it. I don’t think people take me seriously anymore (maybe they never did and have created an entire galaxy of placations). I recall such an issue during the glow, believe it or not, and my solution was to attempt to alter myself and adapt to the idea that people thought of me as a punchline. ‘They once trembled at the sound of our rockets; now they can marvel at the sound of our silence.’ Unfortunately, I never gathered enough strength of character to really do anything about that situation, so as the years passed, the only result was me becoming increasingly angry whenever others did not listen to whatever I was trying to say. The entire shitaree goes back to the fact that everyone continues to point out my intelligence and whatnot, yet when I speak, I end up squished more often than not. All I have is evidence.

I don’t matter."