May 17th, 2023 11:55am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Tangential Worship read ( words) "1015 is what I see on the clock now. My routine is already finished and I have a fat glass of whiskey to calm everything inside my head. In the previous entry, I mentioned that I don’t want to do this anymore, yet there is still some sort of compulsion. The reason is either familiarity, habit, or the idea that most of the time I simply don’t have anything better to do with my time. Whenever I have a drink or need moments of pause during the day, this is where I end up. I suppose the process here will be perpetual. Make no mistake, despite the calm of my daily words, there are bad things at work inside me. The situation has become so dire that I am almost constantly considering reckless and damaging behavior to find what I’ve been seeking; the most likely outcome of which will undoubtedly be my life completely ruined. Fuck... I wish I could afford to drink something with better flavor. Whatever. The effects are the same. Soon I will probably move to the garage and straighten the work area in order to begin assembling the motorcycle. I have the frame and a plan for getting started, both safely and with the integrity of the new powder coat in mind. The process will be slow and steady. I am intelligent enough to bring the bike to a stable point in which it can be again fastened to the lift without risk. As I said, this will be slow. I will be assembling a motor vehicle and must keep safety in mind. Other than the motorcycle, there is little I care to do today. My head takes priority regardless of any distractions from my current condition. And believe me... Shit is fucking dire right now. The imperative inside my head has to be avoided until that bike is ready to roll out of the garage. Nathalie is so fucking adorable sometimes that the need to demonstrate my deep level of appreciation is ever-expanding. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Ugh... There was yet another keyword uttered during this program. I suppose it’s nothing terrible, but society’s view of that term and others that relate can be problematic. Very little that takes place during some media is not problematic, actually. I just have to deal with it, yet the fact that I am nearly always alone does help. I need not answer to anyone. Clambake. Friday is here sans fanfare for the common webmaster. No fanfare whatsoever, actually. I expect nothing. The bike work went fine yesterday, as did the bit of housework I performed. Very little of that will be happening today. I don’t feel like doing much because my brain is sideways. There exists little in this world with the ability to make me smile. Finishing the work is close, though. Sort of close, anyway. I need more, but... Where is what I need? Somewhere in the world? At least the house is quiet for several hours. Better than nothing. I can think a bit. I need to think much more than a bit, actually, yet the answers still elude. And I am still typing regardless of the futility of this endeavor. Why? Another question without an answer. Saturday morning, 0957. My coffee has been consumed. The laundry is rolling along and will be finished within the hour. I may or may not continue assembling the rear of the bike today. Right now I don’t know how I feel about that project, though. The engine has become a problem and will require much more time to repair prior to installation; a repair I attempted but could not finish due to a lack of tools and equipment. It’s more complicated than a simple drill and thread process. The head needs to be welded and then I can fabricate a way to mount the exhaust flange. I have no idea how long this is going to take, so if I do work out there today the focus will be whatever can be installed without interfering with the engine. Little things, I guess. The more I can attach, the less there is taking up space in my garage. The engine may be last. Here I sit at 1113 with nearly zero drive. I finished my daily routine and cleaned the bottom shelf (yikes) of the refrigerator. I also took care of the laundry. Now my day is wide open, yet I have no idea of how to proceed with anything. My head has been flip-flopping from work around the house and bike to all of the trouble outlined here throughout the past few months. At some point I will probably don my boots and install more parts on the motorcycle, I suppose. I don’t really have anything pressing right now. I need to find a way of squashing the difficulties in order to arrive at the close of business hours feeling somewhat accomplished. For the time being I am going to sit here and backtalk the video media while sipping my morning glass of depressant. The information swirling inside my head must be calmed before I can be of any use otherwise. This is a bad time. I have lost too much for anything in life to come easy. Maybe I should cook a pizza and relax on the sofa for a little while. I can still derive enjoyment from a few practices, and lunch in front of some agreeable media is one of them. Moreover, such comfort helps to slow the slideshow of lost memories inside my brain. For a little while, anyway. Nothing has the power to cease this pain. Nothing. Oh, there were snippets of respite here and there, but now, on this latest of days, even they have abandoned me. No one is listening, nor will they be in the future. I have to find ways of coping and holding myself up without assistance. That is a tall order, to say the least. I don’t know how to effectively deal with this shit anymore. Call me what you must. Sometimes I think Jaime should have lopped of Cersei’s fucking pretty head at the outset of season number seven. I realize we need reprehensible, deluded, evil characters to offset the good, but fucking hell... And please! The world is rolling by outside my window and I am scarcely a part of it anymore. I was thinking earlier this morning that all my nice, button-down shirts are all but useless these days. I wear one whenever we have occasion to visit her family – like in a week or two for a birthday – but otherwise they just hang in the closet collecting dust on the shoulders. I used to go out all the time, be it lunch or some other trip, but the pandemic ruined everything. Even though public concern has eased (perhaps not rightly so, too), the fact is that nothing is the same as it was four years ago. Tons of restaurants have gone away, my resources have been chopped to bits, and the feeling of sitting at a bar dressed to the nines for a nice, cozy lunch has been burned away. I can still go out from time to time (alone, of course), yet the actual ‘feeling’ is nowhere near the same. I suppose the best way to express my sadness over the changes is to state that I have lost all trust in what I formerly embraced. There were things I wanted to do and they are all gone. No longer possible. Not the same as in the past, anyway. I suppose I should try to remember being in wondrous, beautiful places with all of the comfort available because the future holds none of the same. Like the imagery in my head regarding ‘understanding’, I am finding that more and more of the good has gone away forever. I can go through the motions, however. Anytime I feel the pull of the past. I really can. But? What will I feel afterward? Satisfaction? Nope. That is another word that can no longer be applied to anything. The only satisfaction since last year is the aforementioned agreeable meal here at home combined with whatever media has the ability to stir my imagination without destroying my feelings. I am still looking out the window and wondering if anyone else out there feels this as deeply as I. There were things I wanted to do. They all seemed within reach. I had thought the beginning of the end was back in seventeen. Nope. The beginning was last year. I have never felt this disillusioned before. A few days ago was plenty bad, but now? A little further with each passing day. The outlook continues to darken as I go about my business. The thoughts in my head darken, as well. I can barely scratch the surface whenever I see some kind of form. And the other one? I can’t even begin to speak about her. Oh, and the other one, too. Words would not be good right now. The way I feel... Well, let’s just say my mood has an upper limit these days and it is not very far from angry. All those things I wanted to do are fading as the seconds hand ticks along. From all the way back in high school when we rode our bikes to the top of Parkmeadow drive, I have had a few clear images inside my head. Yes, forty-plus years’ worth. Those images are now burned. 1151. I am going to have a light snack and then see what I can attach to the bike with some nice music in the background. My drink is finished for the time being. If I continue with the booze, it will be the lowly beer from the refrigerator in the garage. Maybe I won’t have a snack. I just don’t care right now. Well, a while later and I feel fairly accomplished. Not work inside the house, though, just the garage. I have assembled more of the bike and straightened everything a second time. The rest of this day will be mellow. Sunday is here. My business today will take less time than usual due to a simplistic dinner last night. I can’t get the difficult imagery to stop causing pain this morning. Some of it rolls back and forth past my eyes and forces me to realize that I will never be in those places again, a thought with enough power to push away the troubling loss of everything I wanted to do in life. I don’t understand why things must be this way. The memories, experiences and other periods of life which seemed to bring comfort now seem so far away that I am beginning to believe none of them were real. Maybe I fell asleep in eighty-nine and did not awaken until this very year. Or? Last year. I will admit that part of me has been hurt by an issue in the program I’ve been trying to follow here and there. It was a problem that is directly related to the manner in which my life has unfolded. At the time (yesterday afternoon, perhaps), I did not think much about it. As the next few hours passed, the situation sank in more and more. I am not going to detail all that shit here, however, because nothing will be served by ‘complaining’ further than I already have. All I am saying is that since nothing ever fully leaves my memory, each tiny speck of trouble attaches itself to the increasing mass of shit in my head and shoves me further into the ground. As I work through my Sunday, I’ll have to maintain perspective with regard to societal norms and the overly unrealistic nature of the way people seem to think about life itself. That’s a fucking mouthful. Moreover, the dinner group went to the City for outing number two last night and the discussion via group chat (on the phone; a group of which I am still a part) showed off the enjoyment of everyone involved, as well as what looked like a unique meal. Am I disappointed? No. I don’t talk to anyone these days, nor do I have any desire whatsoever to be near some of those people. Each individual is related in one way or another to the next individual, eventually leading me to see society in a very bad light, and meaning I can’t be around certain people without seeing them as a part of the problem rather than just another person. Throughout the evening, I recalled our first dinner last summer and all those big events of the past with my family. I also thought about the last few trips to the mountains – which came to a harsh end more than two years ago – and feel sadness over losing a wonderful, stirring way of life within which I was raised. All this shit adds up to nothing more than a mass of loss; a gigantic hole in the world. My world, honestly. Everything ends up somehow related to everything else these days. I don’t see going to dinner or anywhere else leaving me feeling good in some way, so I’ll stay right here where I’ve been since December. I have to look out for myself – good or bad as the idea may be – and live the only way that seems right for me. I don’t know what else to do anymore. I miss everything, but mostly I miss not knowing what the future held and feeling as if there were possibilities and promise. Knowing the reverse is very painful. The dinner group will only remind me that I am the only person who thinks in such a manner. Not good. I wish I had at least a few answers beyond the information that exists for me daily. The more I think, the more I realize anything further is most likely impossible; as much so as the understanding that I’ve so badly needed. This is all so fucking bad that I am currently going back and forth between continuing to type by finding different ways to say what I feel, and giving up completely because no one is listening. The keyboard is inanimate. The difficulty within the program last night swung very quickly from one side of the world to the other, and several times. I saw things better left out of this content, most notably a very dark, slender woman with insane eyes standing over five-eight with lines all over the fucking place. The issues of the earlier story faded for a short time while I gazed lovingly at her form and wondered if anything of the like would ever cross my living vision again. Very soon, however, one type of pain was traded for another and I went back to the toughest root causes of my entire life. The show’s writers must be very proud. They have a knack for stirring the pot. This morning I’ve been recalling the way she appeared on the screen. Doing so does not help me, but the hole inside my being often takes over before I find the ability to squash it and send my focus elsewhere. Last night I was all over the place prior to seeking sleep. As a result of so much turmoil, I have faint memories of dreams involving beauty and desire, yet nothing is clear at all. There are only fragments now. No faces. I believe one of my dreams from a few years ago attached itself to these unrealistic, exaggerated images and caused me to recall a feeling from the early part of the pandemic era. I can’t really talk about it, though. Just know that I may have changed too much in the past three years to properly function as a real grownup type of person. I don’t believe there can be doubt of such a fact any longer. Very bad. Don’t even get me started on the damaging dreams. Those are an entirely different level of trouble. Anyway, the woman on the show last night reminded me of the depth of my obsession with the female form and the mass of physical desire it can give birth to in a matter of seconds. As such, the issue drives my head back to the difficulty I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph. Visions lead to desire; desire leads to pain. Very simple. 0905. The last cup of coffee is next to me. The Red Woman is freakishly scary sometimes. ‘Paw, I can’t move those damn pigs.’ ‘You watch your cussin’ now.’ I will leave this behind soon and begin my Sunday business. The green can is nearly empty, so perhaps thanks to the sunshine I can move to the backyard and trim a few things. There is always plenty of room for organic waste and I should attend to the yards more often now that the weather has improved over the first few months of the year. None of that work takes very much time anyway. Half an hour, at best. I may also further assemble the motorcycle in the interest of organizing my garage. The routine will be very short today thanks to another simple dinner. All too often the only way to forget the huge void inside my heart is to engage in housework. One would think this place could be a palace after all this time. Unfortunately, too often I end up knocked on my ass prior to finding enough drive to improve anything. Maybe today I can go a little bit further with the efforts. The time is such that I’ll begin my stuff very soon, if for no other reason than to feel a tad better about myself today. Perhaps all this shit really is unfair. I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I reach because I am desperate for understanding and wrought with pain. And no one is listening. This fucking interface seems preoccupied with contractions and often corrects my practice of splitting them in half. Well, fuck you too. I will probably never have the chance to demonstrate my appreciation to those who (in my mind) deserve it. Another loss in life, just like all the rest. There seemed to be plenty of time, and yes, I realize how that must sound. I’m sure plenty of other people have expressed the same depressive sentiment. Sometimes you can lump me in with all the rest, I suppose. I am still just a person, maybe. Or maybe I am the machine. All this worship has gotten me exactly nowhere. I am worse off right now than at any time in the past because back then when I began to worship something, it was directly in front of me. Now? I worship things that are either unreal – as in fantasy – or impossible, such as all those fucking visions floating around in society as they defy any sense of reality, yet are actually real. I am still in the same fucking bowl of soup no matter the case. At least Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I guess I’ll have to grade all my shit aside and go through the motions. Maybe I’ll return here in a little while and further lament a situation and life as forged by irrational worship. Here I sit at 1130 with some of my business out of the way. This is good. What is not good is the inside of my fucking head. Each day finds me less able to cope with the current situation in general, and a complete lack of fulfillment in particular. Such a thought always brings me to state that I do not understand. Well, there is no other way to put a finer point on this shit anymore. I honestly do not fucking understand why I’ve been made to be squished. I don’t want to have to upend my entire life in order to demonstrate my vast knowledge of the potential damage caused by excessive RF power. I may be nothing more than a tiny soul floating within a very depressive soup, but I still have a ton of experience and expertise in slamming those around me with very uncomfortable, unwelcome circumstances. I am not referring to the minuscule amount of energy that is transmitted from a mobile device, nor am I speaking of music. Trust me, I know how to force others to back away. I have the next several hours to myself. Business first. I need to think about this shit. One idea is to pare down my entire existence and focus my efforts on a massive demonstration which will ensure no one wishes to approach me about anything. Hmm. I still have power. I have an easy day ahead. The trash work is simple, I’ll have something agreeable and quick for lunch, there is no laundry to speak of, and most of the hours ahead are subject to my mood and whims. I rarely have anything daunting ahead. To the contrary, the more straightforward my days, the more time there is for considering just how unhappy I have become. Every positive is accompanied by an unequal negative. This is a very bad situation, the likes of which will kill me in time. Easy day or not, I will come out the other side no different. Nothing improves. Only distractions persist. Jesus fucking holy hell shit do I ever need her. ‘Her’. No, not THAT ‘her’. The other one... The one who invaded my dreams. Never in my life have I needed anything so badly, not even the Passion. That is a ‘want’, not a ‘need’. My desire may lead to destructive behavior. I’ve done it. I might do it again, although circumstances and my age may dictate otherwise. I fucking hate this. There was something, and then there was something else, yet at this late date everything is gone. Fucking gone. I don’t know what to do anymore. The little enjoyments feel more temporary than they have in years. The lines are converging and there is nothing I can do about it. Splendid. Perhaps the RF power should be my focus. I can free myself from everything else in support of such a goal. We shall see how I feel about the RF power in the coming days. 1223. I have some of the garbage business finished and a nice pizza in the oven. I took a short break in the garage for a cigarette and saw that my efforts in assembling the motorcycle are bearing fruit insofar as creating space. As I said, the more I install, the less there is laying around the area. I am hoping to have the garage in decent order by the fourth of July so I can grill hot dogs on the driveway. The real destination is Halloween, though. Many people will stroll up to the open garage and my empire should be in full-swing by then. I hope so, anyway. God damn, the need is overwhelming these days. As I said, there had been something and it is now gone. The other thing was gone prior to it. Everything is gone, hence my fucked up mood today. The thing from last year has been piled atop everything else, too. There are no more ears or even potential ears. I held back. I always held back. But? My head softened to the idea far too late for any possible ‘good’ to come from those ears. Ears rhymes with years, right? Years would be required for another step in the same direction. I don’t have the fucking time, nor do I feel like flaying myself wide-open just for the chance. I may not even be capable anymore. To label me as closed-off is a gross understatement. I am so unhappy that any clear description of my current state is all but impossible. I don’t have the words. ‘Next sound you hear...’ Maybe I’ll sit here all day. Does my time even matter? Do I matter? Shut up. 1515. All my stuff is done for the day. I even went to the back and trimmed the trees a bit. There was a vision for a few seconds that attempted to break me in half. I recovered for the most part. Such occurrences will happen again. I no longer have a choice in the matter. I don’t believe I’ll be doing any more work today, either. My level of caring is very low right now. What I have already accomplished should be plenty, anyway. Stating that I am disillusioned is nowhere near enough today. Aside from dinner and a shower, I’m not going to attempt shit. Monday, May 15th. What does it mean? I have most of the day to myself after caring for the morning business. This is good. I need the peace and quiet to help extricate or understand all of the scenarios that have been playing out inside my head for days. As of yet, I haven’t found a coping method. The imagery, memories and dreams continue to deprive me of any comfort in life. Everything is bad. At least I have coffee and the aforementioned quiet time. The weather is already warm, too. Maybe the heat will be enough to melt the thoughts inside my brain. Another paragraph bereft of reference or detail. I was right there, yet had no idea. I was looking around in a new place. I didn’t know if there was a plan, but very soon I noticed that I had been left out of what was to transpire; mentally, anyway. I was there and I learned of everything. The entire idea nearly took me off my feet. There was lots of water, as well. Lots of water and ideas. The view was next to me. Big windows. I didn’t know just a little while before. Soon I knew everything and turned the plan on one ear. I needed to change the plan. Now there can be no plan; no nothing. I am going to sit right here for the rest of my life and recall all sorts of wondrous aspects of life and then watch it all go by my window. But I was there. You can believe it. Off my feet and close to ‘off my rocker’. Whiskey and windows. Later? Beer, but not my choice. Heavy and thick, like alcoholic syrup, as it were. Heavy. I don’t know how that fucking situation happened. And now here I sit for the rest of my life. The paragraph is bereft of detail, but I am bereft of hope. 0922. I still have some coffee left. There is plenty of day left, too. I wish I knew what to do with it. And now? 1044. I have everything finished for the morning. I also placed an order with the big wine store for pickup tomorrow before lunch. Maybe I’ll swing into one of my favorite lunch spots. Anything to bring a bit of enjoyment. I don’t have anything pressing upon my time today, meaning I will probably descend into a pit of depression very soon. It may have already started thanks to the great reset button of the universe. I am almost constantly at a fucking loss. Yes, I was right there. More than once, actually, yet only a handful of occasions stand out in my tired mind. ‘I think we can take Olaf.’ Indeed. The world is going by outside my window. I am no longer a part of it, though. The only time I leave the house is to go shopping, and even then I try to have an order ready so I need not be in society for too long. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I don’t fucking understand. I’ve never asked much of the world. During those very special moments, I was thankful to be in such places and during wondrous times. All of that is now behind me, unfortunately. There is little ahead. There is not much left. I can only hope that when I was there, I appreciated it enough. Right now I have no idea. Maybe I figured those places would return at some point in the future, but then again... During the glow I calculated there would be plenty of time for everything. Splendid. The glow is looking better and better as the days fly by. Even then, I found the wondrous moments. There is no more wonder. Danaerys’ outfit is absolutely stunning in this episode. The people who created the costumes for this series hit it out of the fucking park. Don’t even get me started on Missandei’s fucking clothing. Her shoulders are a universe all their own. I wish I could have licked them. And more. Shut up. Be happy I am not speaking of the French girl. I had to stop the program that has been running on my right-hand display for several weeks. I simply had to stop it because the ‘plot armor’ did not hold up. I am not saying that I disagree with everything, but one point does stand out head and shoulders above the rest. When we are driven to be emotionally invested in characters and they perish, the results are typically questions and anger. But those are human characters. When the same takes place with the beasts, we are expected to feel it less. Well, I disagree. I will not say much more on this topic, yet I will state that the way the ‘magic’ and ‘history’ were handled by those in charge was completely ridiculous and reprehensible. Do not give us intelligent media for years and then stoop to chopping off the viewer’s path with unrealistic devices designed to do nothing more than shock. Do us all a favor and research your shit prior to spending millions on CG imagery which does not compute. Ugh... I hate this shit. Normally, I do not comment upon issues with fantasy. They all give way to more sensitive topics which reside deep in my heart. I will say one thing in this vein, however. I will say there is no more dominion and the origin of that term should have been destroyed thousands of years ago. I’d head in such a direction, but I have no power. I feel like tossing everything I own into the trash, save for those items I mentioned in the previous entry. I really feel it right now. Maybe further severing my connections to the outside world will suffice for the time being. I don’t know. No power. No nothing. This endeavor is going nowhere, like always. Give me a reason. Here I sit on Tuesday morning with coffee and the fucking show. It is beginning to irritate me a bit. Later this morning I need to pick up the order from the big wine store and then stop at the restaurant again on the way home. The new projection lamp arrived and I’ll be installing it for all of five minutes. I also need to pop into the goddess market for a few items. Upon returning, a fat glass of alcohol will probably be in order for several reasons. Whatever. I’m used to it. And I just spoke with a woman at the wine store because one of the items I ordered is out of stock. That is not a big deal, though. The problem is the inflection of her pronunciation of the letter ‘r’ was adorable and I had a difficult time concentrating upon the actual conversation as opposed to listening to her beautiful voice. I’m all fucked up these days. I think perhaps today will be pretty simple. Once I return from the shopping, the plan is to relax a while and formulate some kind of plan regarding ridding myself of shit and organizing everything. 1244. Everything is finished. I ventured to the wine store and goddess market, returned home to unload the car, and then went back out to the restaurant to help with the television. I arrived home for the second time and took care of what remained of my daily routine. And yes, I changed the frame format of the entire site back to the wide view. Wednesday morning and not all is well. There is a bell from hell. I can tell. My brain rolls along the road of holes. Holy road. Holey road. Right there... All bouncing breasts and flowing hair; the facial trait only cemented my feelings last year. Late last year. And once I saw it? Oh, God help me for the thoughts. Dreams. Imagination gone insane and fully outside the bounds and realm of reality; further and further into a place of solitude due to necessity. All alone in there. All alone and feeling nothing more than pain and loss. I always see a little bit. Something escaping my vision does cause me to hurt, yet I have been able to deal with it thus far (somehow). Many things have escaped my vision, but an equal number have caused me to explode with passion on the inside. Passion. The word itself is nowhere near enough. Right there. I was looking for lines and found some of them were missing. The absent lines were yet another story that I did not consider until early this year. I did not know, but I suspected. Two confirmations of dreams. Two. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this amount of worship? How in hell am I to deal with the fact that the most important aspects of life have left me on the side of the road? What can I do about the idea of knowing? I know too much because I’ve spent years (mostly just the last one) stretching and contorting myself in order to garner a look at something which may as well not even exist. They are all still inside me, too. Every single one of them. A handful stand out from the rest. I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost, I am lost, and all I see is loss. One way or another, for one reason or another, it’s all gone. Thanks, Mr. Stanton. Wednesday morning and all is confusing. I don’t understand why everything had to go away. I am at fault for a lot of shit in this life, but not everything. There have been other forces at work. Powerful forces. Squishing. Lamenting. Pushing. And there is another word I hesitate to place here for reasons of good form. Sit on it. Keep waiting. That word may yet come to this place. Wednesday morning and all I have left in the world is coffee and a few hours of optional time. Bits and pieces of something enjoyable here and there. The grand wall of shit inside me holds back a flood of feelings. Nothing in the world can alter such a situation. Not even her. The other one could have a chance, though. Unfortunately, there can be no certainty of such a statement. I’ll not know whether those lines are absent for good reason, nor can I learn just how deep they flow. I need to know everything even though I already know too much. The wall will keep prying eyes away from my feelings, meaning I must continue to fight off the desperate need to learn. This is a very dangerous situation, and not just for myself. I want to know. I need to know. I need to see everything in ways that many people may not understand because the knowledge inside me must find the truth of reality, and a lack of the same is killing me. Wednesday morning and she is wrapped around my brain, just like the others. Wednesday may turn to shit. I don’t want that to happen right now. Maybe another time. The three dreams from last year may have fucked me up for all time. Not a day goes by when I do not picture a real situation developing from each set of images, and at the same time I desire her so much that all too often I feel as if I will completely lose my mind once and for all. This morning is just like all the rest, finding me sitting here like always with a head full of everything I want and need, yet knowing nothing good can exist on my horizon. Wednesday morning and nothing is well. Wednesday morning. Each day is the same as the last. My life has been reduced to silent worship in impossible directions. No one knows what is going on inside me. There are no ears, nor will there ever be. I will continue to see; I will continue to dream. None of this shit matters. Wednesday morning and my brain is all the way up her dress. Up there, where life begins. The cup of coffee next to me is the last, meaning afterward the short-term schedule should follow along with the last thousand-plus days. I don’t know if it will, however. The need is beginning to force my hand. The future has been grayed out for a very long time. Each day is simply more of the same, but with an added bonus of less time ahead of me. There used to be lots of time. Perhaps there has never been as much time as I had thought. Too bad. No fanfare; no nothing. All I have left is a massive, overpowering and confusing combination of detriment, loss, and desire. The latter is unfocused. I would state that my life has been decimated by other people, but the term is too often used incorrectly. People do not realize that to decimate means to cut into ten pieces. I’ll just say ‘ruined’. Squished. Stepped upon; this is still happening. I am fucking sick of everything right now. Wednesday morning and all is fucked. Wednesday morning. What does it mean? I saw those things. I saw quite a bit; some close and some more distant. I thought of her when I saw the girl in gray. I also thought of her when I saw the pants being tugged at the goddess market. I always think of her when something crosses my desperate vision. The dreams are the most likely cause of the connections I’ve made since last year. There is nothing I can do about this shit, either. Not a fucking stitch of anything. Nothing. The scathing essay I wrote was nearly six years ago. That was a bad time. Just imagine how I feel all these years later. Where is this heading? The au pair waves at me whenever I am in the garage during her daily walks. I’m quite certain that the appearance of my empire can be rather off-putting to some people, although she is very young and likely a touch more open-minded. The last thing I am going to do is speak to her for any reason, save for some kind of emergency. Do I want to speak with her? Not really. Do I want anything else? Nope. She is a person. I may have to get out of this fucking house for a little while today. Everything I’ve seen has been combining and pressing me into a very small space. Seeing a smidgen of the world from a barstool could provide a measure of relief. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Remaining home is cheaper. I suppose I’ll stay put. I’ll tell you one fucking thing, though... With the right resources, I would be half ghost and half person (if I even am a person these days). Maybe more than half ghost. My entire life is minuscule. Six thousand feet of space, the occasional drive for those items at different stores, and the view out my office window. That’s all I have. I suppose sometimes the grand visions of where I’ve been in the past take over and force me to consider going out to lunch. The odds of me going anywhere beyond the driveway are pretty fucking scarce. That is the truth. I’m not going anywhere. I guess I’ll try to work in the office today. Wednesday morning and my brain is saturated with desire-filled imagery. Much of it never goes away. The only relief is when I am busy, yet even then I can be quickly and easily overpowered by the tiniest image popping into my head unexpectedly. Lately I have been watching the fifth show because it came up in my rotation. Two days ago I realized that Jamie is the only character for whom I feel very little on the physical side of things. Jolene used to share such a feeling. Well, not anymore. I fell off that cliff and hit my head, I suppose, because when I see her now there is massive desire. Massive. Hence, when I am busy, the shit returns to me anyway. I can’t get around it unless I avoid the streaming media. That just ain’t going to happen, so... Once more for posterity, I am fucked. Nothing in the world has the power to remove what I’ve been feeling for ten fucking years. Oh, yes... There have been moments. They are gone forever. Maybe I’ve become so far out of balance that I am just fucking stupid these days. It’s possible, anyway. I don’t know. I am in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Most of what goes on inside my head never makes it to the screen due to fear. There is only so much I can say here. The fact that everything has been crammed into a small container means pressure is building, the result of which could be very bad for me and those who know me. I am not referring to the exit, either. I am speaking of the type of situation in which I let things out in some random direction – or toward whomever is closest at the time – without the slightest bit being held back. Remaining ‘bottled’ as I have for so many years is not only a danger to myself. I have never felt so bad in my life. Eleven was a pile of shit, but looking back now, I see that my time in the apartment with all that confusion, sadness and turmoil was a fucking walk in the park. Believe it. I just can’t go further here, however. The result would be explosive and likely the end of everything. I no longer have the ability to hide. I can see now that the damaging dreams were only a matter of time. I was driven to think in such a manner, and my subconscious followed along like a needy puppy. I dreamed at night and awakened after each a bit further down. Eventually, I realized that such imagery came about due to being fucking squished. If only I had the resources to fully manipulate RF power. Nothing can withstand it. Nothing. Crushing power; right into and through earth, rock and people. Hypersonic hell. The dreams have caused me to reevaluate my position and worth in this life. They have also amplified my rampant desire more than I thought possible. Believe me, there has been desire before. This is completely different. Am I skewed? Oh, fuck yes. I am so fucking heeled over that recovery is most decidedly impossible. There is only one direction now. At some point I have to get away from this keyboard and the program which is boring the shit out of me. My housework awaits. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person, just one affected far too much to handle. And even more so for others to find the ability to handle me. My stuff is finished. I switched from the fifth show back to the dragons here in the office because since I’ve come this far with the story, I may as well allow it to run its entire course. I’ll try to avoid excessive complaining. There is plenty of other media I can run in the background, yet less which does not require my full attention. Anyway, the rest of this day will entail two loads of dry cleaning and very little else. I am considering a nice lunch, too. No, not at a restaurant. That idea came and went like a bullet train. Another day, perhaps. I need to streamline all my shit to ease the difficulty inside my brain. I’ve seen too much to fully relax anymore. My comfort comes in short bursts, none of which can carry me to another day. I have to continue seeking small doses of enjoyment here and there. One must connect to the next, as well. The moments between leave me wishing to flip a permanent switch; one whose time has not yet arrived. Not much about worship here. I just don’t care. I type what I type for whatever reason. Worship is inside me and slowly taking over, yet there is not much I can say about it because change in life is not possible in these late days. Where I am right now is where I shall remain for as long as I draw breath. My life has been over for a long time. I just didn’t realize it until recently. The past is looking better and better, and it is gone. The dreams look and feel better with each passing day, and they are impossible. The visions stir me and cause more desire than ever, and they are equally impossible. I take care of this house, shop when necessary, and every other aspect of my life that I’ve enjoyed for more than fifty years has disappeared. Part of such a change was the pandemic. It ruined any ‘real’ relaxation within society. Another part is simply the passage of time as viewed by an individual who knows the extent of the squishing. The only sharp focus I have anymore is the power of memory. I recall those times when the world did not appear as it does now, and I recall when I felt that the future was bright and full of both possibility and promise. Now I know otherwise. The causes no longer matter. When I sit here and look out the window, I see other people going about their lives – driving to and from work, walking dogs and children, and speaking to each other as they will – and I feel so far detached from all of it that I can’t believe it has come to this. I’ve stated on a few occasions that my entire universe comprises less than six thousand square feet for good reason. I have not the drive to do anything else. The desperation and desire have rendered me useless otherwise. Circumstances have gathered and left me without any reason to advance myself or attempt to create a place which could fit into a society ruled by the opposite of everything I've become. I have faith in nothing. Whatever resides within this little house is all I will ever have. Curious, I always thought the end of all things would be more dramatic somehow. I’ve written those words during better times, actually. I only thought they were bad. Now I know otherwise. Maybe I can secure a trip to the Sea in December or January. That would be nice. For whatever reason, the Sea and those beautiful nearby cities always helped me put everything into perspective. I am dropping now. Time to end this entry. At least I’ve accomplished something. I know... I am already dead." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
May 17th, 2023 11:55am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Tangential Worship read ( words) "1015 is what I see on the clock now. My routine is already finished and I have a fat glass of whiskey to calm everything inside my head. In the previous entry, I mentioned that I don’t want to do this anymore, yet there is still some sort of compulsion. The reason is either familiarity, habit, or the idea that most of the time I simply don’t have anything better to do with my time. Whenever I have a drink or need moments of pause during the day, this is where I end up. I suppose the process here will be perpetual. Make no mistake, despite the calm of my daily words, there are bad things at work inside me. The situation has become so dire that I am almost constantly considering reckless and damaging behavior to find what I’ve been seeking; the most likely outcome of which will undoubtedly be my life completely ruined. Fuck... I wish I could afford to drink something with better flavor. Whatever. The effects are the same. Soon I will probably move to the garage and straighten the work area in order to begin assembling the motorcycle. I have the frame and a plan for getting started, both safely and with the integrity of the new powder coat in mind. The process will be slow and steady. I am intelligent enough to bring the bike to a stable point in which it can be again fastened to the lift without risk. As I said, this will be slow. I will be assembling a motor vehicle and must keep safety in mind. Other than the motorcycle, there is little I care to do today. My head takes priority regardless of any distractions from my current condition. And believe me... Shit is fucking dire right now. The imperative inside my head has to be avoided until that bike is ready to roll out of the garage. Nathalie is so fucking adorable sometimes that the need to demonstrate my deep level of appreciation is ever-expanding. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Ugh... There was yet another keyword uttered during this program. I suppose it’s nothing terrible, but society’s view of that term and others that relate can be problematic. Very little that takes place during some media is not problematic, actually. I just have to deal with it, yet the fact that I am nearly always alone does help. I need not answer to anyone. Clambake. Friday is here sans fanfare for the common webmaster. No fanfare whatsoever, actually. I expect nothing. The bike work went fine yesterday, as did the bit of housework I performed. Very little of that will be happening today. I don’t feel like doing much because my brain is sideways. There exists little in this world with the ability to make me smile. Finishing the work is close, though. Sort of close, anyway. I need more, but... Where is what I need? Somewhere in the world? At least the house is quiet for several hours. Better than nothing. I can think a bit. I need to think much more than a bit, actually, yet the answers still elude. And I am still typing regardless of the futility of this endeavor. Why? Another question without an answer. Saturday morning, 0957. My coffee has been consumed. The laundry is rolling along and will be finished within the hour. I may or may not continue assembling the rear of the bike today. Right now I don’t know how I feel about that project, though. The engine has become a problem and will require much more time to repair prior to installation; a repair I attempted but could not finish due to a lack of tools and equipment. It’s more complicated than a simple drill and thread process. The head needs to be welded and then I can fabricate a way to mount the exhaust flange. I have no idea how long this is going to take, so if I do work out there today the focus will be whatever can be installed without interfering with the engine. Little things, I guess. The more I can attach, the less there is taking up space in my garage. The engine may be last. Here I sit at 1113 with nearly zero drive. I finished my daily routine and cleaned the bottom shelf (yikes) of the refrigerator. I also took care of the laundry. Now my day is wide open, yet I have no idea of how to proceed with anything. My head has been flip-flopping from work around the house and bike to all of the trouble outlined here throughout the past few months. At some point I will probably don my boots and install more parts on the motorcycle, I suppose. I don’t really have anything pressing right now. I need to find a way of squashing the difficulties in order to arrive at the close of business hours feeling somewhat accomplished. For the time being I am going to sit here and backtalk the video media while sipping my morning glass of depressant. The information swirling inside my head must be calmed before I can be of any use otherwise. This is a bad time. I have lost too much for anything in life to come easy. Maybe I should cook a pizza and relax on the sofa for a little while. I can still derive enjoyment from a few practices, and lunch in front of some agreeable media is one of them. Moreover, such comfort helps to slow the slideshow of lost memories inside my brain. For a little while, anyway. Nothing has the power to cease this pain. Nothing. Oh, there were snippets of respite here and there, but now, on this latest of days, even they have abandoned me. No one is listening, nor will they be in the future. I have to find ways of coping and holding myself up without assistance. That is a tall order, to say the least. I don’t know how to effectively deal with this shit anymore. Call me what you must. Sometimes I think Jaime should have lopped of Cersei’s fucking pretty head at the outset of season number seven. I realize we need reprehensible, deluded, evil characters to offset the good, but fucking hell... And please! The world is rolling by outside my window and I am scarcely a part of it anymore. I was thinking earlier this morning that all my nice, button-down shirts are all but useless these days. I wear one whenever we have occasion to visit her family – like in a week or two for a birthday – but otherwise they just hang in the closet collecting dust on the shoulders. I used to go out all the time, be it lunch or some other trip, but the pandemic ruined everything. Even though public concern has eased (perhaps not rightly so, too), the fact is that nothing is the same as it was four years ago. Tons of restaurants have gone away, my resources have been chopped to bits, and the feeling of sitting at a bar dressed to the nines for a nice, cozy lunch has been burned away. I can still go out from time to time (alone, of course), yet the actual ‘feeling’ is nowhere near the same. I suppose the best way to express my sadness over the changes is to state that I have lost all trust in what I formerly embraced. There were things I wanted to do and they are all gone. No longer possible. Not the same as in the past, anyway. I suppose I should try to remember being in wondrous, beautiful places with all of the comfort available because the future holds none of the same. Like the imagery in my head regarding ‘understanding’, I am finding that more and more of the good has gone away forever. I can go through the motions, however. Anytime I feel the pull of the past. I really can. But? What will I feel afterward? Satisfaction? Nope. That is another word that can no longer be applied to anything. The only satisfaction since last year is the aforementioned agreeable meal here at home combined with whatever media has the ability to stir my imagination without destroying my feelings. I am still looking out the window and wondering if anyone else out there feels this as deeply as I. There were things I wanted to do. They all seemed within reach. I had thought the beginning of the end was back in seventeen. Nope. The beginning was last year. I have never felt this disillusioned before. A few days ago was plenty bad, but now? A little further with each passing day. The outlook continues to darken as I go about my business. The thoughts in my head darken, as well. I can barely scratch the surface whenever I see some kind of form. And the other one? I can’t even begin to speak about her. Oh, and the other one, too. Words would not be good right now. The way I feel... Well, let’s just say my mood has an upper limit these days and it is not very far from angry. All those things I wanted to do are fading as the seconds hand ticks along. From all the way back in high school when we rode our bikes to the top of Parkmeadow drive, I have had a few clear images inside my head. Yes, forty-plus years’ worth. Those images are now burned. 1151. I am going to have a light snack and then see what I can attach to the bike with some nice music in the background. My drink is finished for the time being. If I continue with the booze, it will be the lowly beer from the refrigerator in the garage. Maybe I won’t have a snack. I just don’t care right now. Well, a while later and I feel fairly accomplished. Not work inside the house, though, just the garage. I have assembled more of the bike and straightened everything a second time. The rest of this day will be mellow. Sunday is here. My business today will take less time than usual due to a simplistic dinner last night. I can’t get the difficult imagery to stop causing pain this morning. Some of it rolls back and forth past my eyes and forces me to realize that I will never be in those places again, a thought with enough power to push away the troubling loss of everything I wanted to do in life. I don’t understand why things must be this way. The memories, experiences and other periods of life which seemed to bring comfort now seem so far away that I am beginning to believe none of them were real. Maybe I fell asleep in eighty-nine and did not awaken until this very year. Or? Last year. I will admit that part of me has been hurt by an issue in the program I’ve been trying to follow here and there. It was a problem that is directly related to the manner in which my life has unfolded. At the time (yesterday afternoon, perhaps), I did not think much about it. As the next few hours passed, the situation sank in more and more. I am not going to detail all that shit here, however, because nothing will be served by ‘complaining’ further than I already have. All I am saying is that since nothing ever fully leaves my memory, each tiny speck of trouble attaches itself to the increasing mass of shit in my head and shoves me further into the ground. As I work through my Sunday, I’ll have to maintain perspective with regard to societal norms and the overly unrealistic nature of the way people seem to think about life itself. That’s a fucking mouthful. Moreover, the dinner group went to the City for outing number two last night and the discussion via group chat (on the phone; a group of which I am still a part) showed off the enjoyment of everyone involved, as well as what looked like a unique meal. Am I disappointed? No. I don’t talk to anyone these days, nor do I have any desire whatsoever to be near some of those people. Each individual is related in one way or another to the next individual, eventually leading me to see society in a very bad light, and meaning I can’t be around certain people without seeing them as a part of the problem rather than just another person. Throughout the evening, I recalled our first dinner last summer and all those big events of the past with my family. I also thought about the last few trips to the mountains – which came to a harsh end more than two years ago – and feel sadness over losing a wonderful, stirring way of life within which I was raised. All this shit adds up to nothing more than a mass of loss; a gigantic hole in the world. My world, honestly. Everything ends up somehow related to everything else these days. I don’t see going to dinner or anywhere else leaving me feeling good in some way, so I’ll stay right here where I’ve been since December. I have to look out for myself – good or bad as the idea may be – and live the only way that seems right for me. I don’t know what else to do anymore. I miss everything, but mostly I miss not knowing what the future held and feeling as if there were possibilities and promise. Knowing the reverse is very painful. The dinner group will only remind me that I am the only person who thinks in such a manner. Not good. I wish I had at least a few answers beyond the information that exists for me daily. The more I think, the more I realize anything further is most likely impossible; as much so as the understanding that I’ve so badly needed. This is all so fucking bad that I am currently going back and forth between continuing to type by finding different ways to say what I feel, and giving up completely because no one is listening. The keyboard is inanimate. The difficulty within the program last night swung very quickly from one side of the world to the other, and several times. I saw things better left out of this content, most notably a very dark, slender woman with insane eyes standing over five-eight with lines all over the fucking place. The issues of the earlier story faded for a short time while I gazed lovingly at her form and wondered if anything of the like would ever cross my living vision again. Very soon, however, one type of pain was traded for another and I went back to the toughest root causes of my entire life. The show’s writers must be very proud. They have a knack for stirring the pot. This morning I’ve been recalling the way she appeared on the screen. Doing so does not help me, but the hole inside my being often takes over before I find the ability to squash it and send my focus elsewhere. Last night I was all over the place prior to seeking sleep. As a result of so much turmoil, I have faint memories of dreams involving beauty and desire, yet nothing is clear at all. There are only fragments now. No faces. I believe one of my dreams from a few years ago attached itself to these unrealistic, exaggerated images and caused me to recall a feeling from the early part of the pandemic era. I can’t really talk about it, though. Just know that I may have changed too much in the past three years to properly function as a real grownup type of person. I don’t believe there can be doubt of such a fact any longer. Very bad. Don’t even get me started on the damaging dreams. Those are an entirely different level of trouble. Anyway, the woman on the show last night reminded me of the depth of my obsession with the female form and the mass of physical desire it can give birth to in a matter of seconds. As such, the issue drives my head back to the difficulty I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph. Visions lead to desire; desire leads to pain. Very simple. 0905. The last cup of coffee is next to me. The Red Woman is freakishly scary sometimes. ‘Paw, I can’t move those damn pigs.’ ‘You watch your cussin’ now.’ I will leave this behind soon and begin my Sunday business. The green can is nearly empty, so perhaps thanks to the sunshine I can move to the backyard and trim a few things. There is always plenty of room for organic waste and I should attend to the yards more often now that the weather has improved over the first few months of the year. None of that work takes very much time anyway. Half an hour, at best. I may also further assemble the motorcycle in the interest of organizing my garage. The routine will be very short today thanks to another simple dinner. All too often the only way to forget the huge void inside my heart is to engage in housework. One would think this place could be a palace after all this time. Unfortunately, too often I end up knocked on my ass prior to finding enough drive to improve anything. Maybe today I can go a little bit further with the efforts. The time is such that I’ll begin my stuff very soon, if for no other reason than to feel a tad better about myself today. Perhaps all this shit really is unfair. I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I reach because I am desperate for understanding and wrought with pain. And no one is listening. This fucking interface seems preoccupied with contractions and often corrects my practice of splitting them in half. Well, fuck you too. I will probably never have the chance to demonstrate my appreciation to those who (in my mind) deserve it. Another loss in life, just like all the rest. There seemed to be plenty of time, and yes, I realize how that must sound. I’m sure plenty of other people have expressed the same depressive sentiment. Sometimes you can lump me in with all the rest, I suppose. I am still just a person, maybe. Or maybe I am the machine. All this worship has gotten me exactly nowhere. I am worse off right now than at any time in the past because back then when I began to worship something, it was directly in front of me. Now? I worship things that are either unreal – as in fantasy – or impossible, such as all those fucking visions floating around in society as they defy any sense of reality, yet are actually real. I am still in the same fucking bowl of soup no matter the case. At least Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I guess I’ll have to grade all my shit aside and go through the motions. Maybe I’ll return here in a little while and further lament a situation and life as forged by irrational worship. Here I sit at 1130 with some of my business out of the way. This is good. What is not good is the inside of my fucking head. Each day finds me less able to cope with the current situation in general, and a complete lack of fulfillment in particular. Such a thought always brings me to state that I do not understand. Well, there is no other way to put a finer point on this shit anymore. I honestly do not fucking understand why I’ve been made to be squished. I don’t want to have to upend my entire life in order to demonstrate my vast knowledge of the potential damage caused by excessive RF power. I may be nothing more than a tiny soul floating within a very depressive soup, but I still have a ton of experience and expertise in slamming those around me with very uncomfortable, unwelcome circumstances. I am not referring to the minuscule amount of energy that is transmitted from a mobile device, nor am I speaking of music. Trust me, I know how to force others to back away. I have the next several hours to myself. Business first. I need to think about this shit. One idea is to pare down my entire existence and focus my efforts on a massive demonstration which will ensure no one wishes to approach me about anything. Hmm. I still have power. I have an easy day ahead. The trash work is simple, I’ll have something agreeable and quick for lunch, there is no laundry to speak of, and most of the hours ahead are subject to my mood and whims. I rarely have anything daunting ahead. To the contrary, the more straightforward my days, the more time there is for considering just how unhappy I have become. Every positive is accompanied by an unequal negative. This is a very bad situation, the likes of which will kill me in time. Easy day or not, I will come out the other side no different. Nothing improves. Only distractions persist. Jesus fucking holy hell shit do I ever need her. ‘Her’. No, not THAT ‘her’. The other one... The one who invaded my dreams. Never in my life have I needed anything so badly, not even the Passion. That is a ‘want’, not a ‘need’. My desire may lead to destructive behavior. I’ve done it. I might do it again, although circumstances and my age may dictate otherwise. I fucking hate this. There was something, and then there was something else, yet at this late date everything is gone. Fucking gone. I don’t know what to do anymore. The little enjoyments feel more temporary than they have in years. The lines are converging and there is nothing I can do about it. Splendid. Perhaps the RF power should be my focus. I can free myself from everything else in support of such a goal. We shall see how I feel about the RF power in the coming days. 1223. I have some of the garbage business finished and a nice pizza in the oven. I took a short break in the garage for a cigarette and saw that my efforts in assembling the motorcycle are bearing fruit insofar as creating space. As I said, the more I install, the less there is laying around the area. I am hoping to have the garage in decent order by the fourth of July so I can grill hot dogs on the driveway. The real destination is Halloween, though. Many people will stroll up to the open garage and my empire should be in full-swing by then. I hope so, anyway. God damn, the need is overwhelming these days. As I said, there had been something and it is now gone. The other thing was gone prior to it. Everything is gone, hence my fucked up mood today. The thing from last year has been piled atop everything else, too. There are no more ears or even potential ears. I held back. I always held back. But? My head softened to the idea far too late for any possible ‘good’ to come from those ears. Ears rhymes with years, right? Years would be required for another step in the same direction. I don’t have the fucking time, nor do I feel like flaying myself wide-open just for the chance. I may not even be capable anymore. To label me as closed-off is a gross understatement. I am so unhappy that any clear description of my current state is all but impossible. I don’t have the words. ‘Next sound you hear...’ Maybe I’ll sit here all day. Does my time even matter? Do I matter? Shut up. 1515. All my stuff is done for the day. I even went to the back and trimmed the trees a bit. There was a vision for a few seconds that attempted to break me in half. I recovered for the most part. Such occurrences will happen again. I no longer have a choice in the matter. I don’t believe I’ll be doing any more work today, either. My level of caring is very low right now. What I have already accomplished should be plenty, anyway. Stating that I am disillusioned is nowhere near enough today. Aside from dinner and a shower, I’m not going to attempt shit. Monday, May 15th. What does it mean? I have most of the day to myself after caring for the morning business. This is good. I need the peace and quiet to help extricate or understand all of the scenarios that have been playing out inside my head for days. As of yet, I haven’t found a coping method. The imagery, memories and dreams continue to deprive me of any comfort in life. Everything is bad. At least I have coffee and the aforementioned quiet time. The weather is already warm, too. Maybe the heat will be enough to melt the thoughts inside my brain. Another paragraph bereft of reference or detail. I was right there, yet had no idea. I was looking around in a new place. I didn’t know if there was a plan, but very soon I noticed that I had been left out of what was to transpire; mentally, anyway. I was there and I learned of everything. The entire idea nearly took me off my feet. There was lots of water, as well. Lots of water and ideas. The view was next to me. Big windows. I didn’t know just a little while before. Soon I knew everything and turned the plan on one ear. I needed to change the plan. Now there can be no plan; no nothing. I am going to sit right here for the rest of my life and recall all sorts of wondrous aspects of life and then watch it all go by my window. But I was there. You can believe it. Off my feet and close to ‘off my rocker’. Whiskey and windows. Later? Beer, but not my choice. Heavy and thick, like alcoholic syrup, as it were. Heavy. I don’t know how that fucking situation happened. And now here I sit for the rest of my life. The paragraph is bereft of detail, but I am bereft of hope. 0922. I still have some coffee left. There is plenty of day left, too. I wish I knew what to do with it. And now? 1044. I have everything finished for the morning. I also placed an order with the big wine store for pickup tomorrow before lunch. Maybe I’ll swing into one of my favorite lunch spots. Anything to bring a bit of enjoyment. I don’t have anything pressing upon my time today, meaning I will probably descend into a pit of depression very soon. It may have already started thanks to the great reset button of the universe. I am almost constantly at a fucking loss. Yes, I was right there. More than once, actually, yet only a handful of occasions stand out in my tired mind. ‘I think we can take Olaf.’ Indeed. The world is going by outside my window. I am no longer a part of it, though. The only time I leave the house is to go shopping, and even then I try to have an order ready so I need not be in society for too long. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I don’t fucking understand. I’ve never asked much of the world. During those very special moments, I was thankful to be in such places and during wondrous times. All of that is now behind me, unfortunately. There is little ahead. There is not much left. I can only hope that when I was there, I appreciated it enough. Right now I have no idea. Maybe I figured those places would return at some point in the future, but then again... During the glow I calculated there would be plenty of time for everything. Splendid. The glow is looking better and better as the days fly by. Even then, I found the wondrous moments. There is no more wonder. Danaerys’ outfit is absolutely stunning in this episode. The people who created the costumes for this series hit it out of the fucking park. Don’t even get me started on Missandei’s fucking clothing. Her shoulders are a universe all their own. I wish I could have licked them. And more. Shut up. Be happy I am not speaking of the French girl. I had to stop the program that has been running on my right-hand display for several weeks. I simply had to stop it because the ‘plot armor’ did not hold up. I am not saying that I disagree with everything, but one point does stand out head and shoulders above the rest. When we are driven to be emotionally invested in characters and they perish, the results are typically questions and anger. But those are human characters. When the same takes place with the beasts, we are expected to feel it less. Well, I disagree. I will not say much more on this topic, yet I will state that the way the ‘magic’ and ‘history’ were handled by those in charge was completely ridiculous and reprehensible. Do not give us intelligent media for years and then stoop to chopping off the viewer’s path with unrealistic devices designed to do nothing more than shock. Do us all a favor and research your shit prior to spending millions on CG imagery which does not compute. Ugh... I hate this shit. Normally, I do not comment upon issues with fantasy. They all give way to more sensitive topics which reside deep in my heart. I will say one thing in this vein, however. I will say there is no more dominion and the origin of that term should have been destroyed thousands of years ago. I’d head in such a direction, but I have no power. I feel like tossing everything I own into the trash, save for those items I mentioned in the previous entry. I really feel it right now. Maybe further severing my connections to the outside world will suffice for the time being. I don’t know. No power. No nothing. This endeavor is going nowhere, like always. Give me a reason. Here I sit on Tuesday morning with coffee and the fucking show. It is beginning to irritate me a bit. Later this morning I need to pick up the order from the big wine store and then stop at the restaurant again on the way home. The new projection lamp arrived and I’ll be installing it for all of five minutes. I also need to pop into the goddess market for a few items. Upon returning, a fat glass of alcohol will probably be in order for several reasons. Whatever. I’m used to it. And I just spoke with a woman at the wine store because one of the items I ordered is out of stock. That is not a big deal, though. The problem is the inflection of her pronunciation of the letter ‘r’ was adorable and I had a difficult time concentrating upon the actual conversation as opposed to listening to her beautiful voice. I’m all fucked up these days. I think perhaps today will be pretty simple. Once I return from the shopping, the plan is to relax a while and formulate some kind of plan regarding ridding myself of shit and organizing everything. 1244. Everything is finished. I ventured to the wine store and goddess market, returned home to unload the car, and then went back out to the restaurant to help with the television. I arrived home for the second time and took care of what remained of my daily routine. And yes, I changed the frame format of the entire site back to the wide view. Wednesday morning and not all is well. There is a bell from hell. I can tell. My brain rolls along the road of holes. Holy road. Holey road. Right there... All bouncing breasts and flowing hair; the facial trait only cemented my feelings last year. Late last year. And once I saw it? Oh, God help me for the thoughts. Dreams. Imagination gone insane and fully outside the bounds and realm of reality; further and further into a place of solitude due to necessity. All alone in there. All alone and feeling nothing more than pain and loss. I always see a little bit. Something escaping my vision does cause me to hurt, yet I have been able to deal with it thus far (somehow). Many things have escaped my vision, but an equal number have caused me to explode with passion on the inside. Passion. The word itself is nowhere near enough. Right there. I was looking for lines and found some of them were missing. The absent lines were yet another story that I did not consider until early this year. I did not know, but I suspected. Two confirmations of dreams. Two. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this amount of worship? How in hell am I to deal with the fact that the most important aspects of life have left me on the side of the road? What can I do about the idea of knowing? I know too much because I’ve spent years (mostly just the last one) stretching and contorting myself in order to garner a look at something which may as well not even exist. They are all still inside me, too. Every single one of them. A handful stand out from the rest. I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost, I am lost, and all I see is loss. One way or another, for one reason or another, it’s all gone. Thanks, Mr. Stanton. Wednesday morning and all is confusing. I don’t understand why everything had to go away. I am at fault for a lot of shit in this life, but not everything. There have been other forces at work. Powerful forces. Squishing. Lamenting. Pushing. And there is another word I hesitate to place here for reasons of good form. Sit on it. Keep waiting. That word may yet come to this place. Wednesday morning and all I have left in the world is coffee and a few hours of optional time. Bits and pieces of something enjoyable here and there. The grand wall of shit inside me holds back a flood of feelings. Nothing in the world can alter such a situation. Not even her. The other one could have a chance, though. Unfortunately, there can be no certainty of such a statement. I’ll not know whether those lines are absent for good reason, nor can I learn just how deep they flow. I need to know everything even though I already know too much. The wall will keep prying eyes away from my feelings, meaning I must continue to fight off the desperate need to learn. This is a very dangerous situation, and not just for myself. I want to know. I need to know. I need to see everything in ways that many people may not understand because the knowledge inside me must find the truth of reality, and a lack of the same is killing me. Wednesday morning and she is wrapped around my brain, just like the others. Wednesday may turn to shit. I don’t want that to happen right now. Maybe another time. The three dreams from last year may have fucked me up for all time. Not a day goes by when I do not picture a real situation developing from each set of images, and at the same time I desire her so much that all too often I feel as if I will completely lose my mind once and for all. This morning is just like all the rest, finding me sitting here like always with a head full of everything I want and need, yet knowing nothing good can exist on my horizon. Wednesday morning and nothing is well. Wednesday morning. Each day is the same as the last. My life has been reduced to silent worship in impossible directions. No one knows what is going on inside me. There are no ears, nor will there ever be. I will continue to see; I will continue to dream. None of this shit matters. Wednesday morning and my brain is all the way up her dress. Up there, where life begins. The cup of coffee next to me is the last, meaning afterward the short-term schedule should follow along with the last thousand-plus days. I don’t know if it will, however. The need is beginning to force my hand. The future has been grayed out for a very long time. Each day is simply more of the same, but with an added bonus of less time ahead of me. There used to be lots of time. Perhaps there has never been as much time as I had thought. Too bad. No fanfare; no nothing. All I have left is a massive, overpowering and confusing combination of detriment, loss, and desire. The latter is unfocused. I would state that my life has been decimated by other people, but the term is too often used incorrectly. People do not realize that to decimate means to cut into ten pieces. I’ll just say ‘ruined’. Squished. Stepped upon; this is still happening. I am fucking sick of everything right now. Wednesday morning and all is fucked. Wednesday morning. What does it mean? I saw those things. I saw quite a bit; some close and some more distant. I thought of her when I saw the girl in gray. I also thought of her when I saw the pants being tugged at the goddess market. I always think of her when something crosses my desperate vision. The dreams are the most likely cause of the connections I’ve made since last year. There is nothing I can do about this shit, either. Not a fucking stitch of anything. Nothing. The scathing essay I wrote was nearly six years ago. That was a bad time. Just imagine how I feel all these years later. Where is this heading? The au pair waves at me whenever I am in the garage during her daily walks. I’m quite certain that the appearance of my empire can be rather off-putting to some people, although she is very young and likely a touch more open-minded. The last thing I am going to do is speak to her for any reason, save for some kind of emergency. Do I want to speak with her? Not really. Do I want anything else? Nope. She is a person. I may have to get out of this fucking house for a little while today. Everything I’ve seen has been combining and pressing me into a very small space. Seeing a smidgen of the world from a barstool could provide a measure of relief. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Remaining home is cheaper. I suppose I’ll stay put. I’ll tell you one fucking thing, though... With the right resources, I would be half ghost and half person (if I even am a person these days). Maybe more than half ghost. My entire life is minuscule. Six thousand feet of space, the occasional drive for those items at different stores, and the view out my office window. That’s all I have. I suppose sometimes the grand visions of where I’ve been in the past take over and force me to consider going out to lunch. The odds of me going anywhere beyond the driveway are pretty fucking scarce. That is the truth. I’m not going anywhere. I guess I’ll try to work in the office today. Wednesday morning and my brain is saturated with desire-filled imagery. Much of it never goes away. The only relief is when I am busy, yet even then I can be quickly and easily overpowered by the tiniest image popping into my head unexpectedly. Lately I have been watching the fifth show because it came up in my rotation. Two days ago I realized that Jamie is the only character for whom I feel very little on the physical side of things. Jolene used to share such a feeling. Well, not anymore. I fell off that cliff and hit my head, I suppose, because when I see her now there is massive desire. Massive. Hence, when I am busy, the shit returns to me anyway. I can’t get around it unless I avoid the streaming media. That just ain’t going to happen, so... Once more for posterity, I am fucked. Nothing in the world has the power to remove what I’ve been feeling for ten fucking years. Oh, yes... There have been moments. They are gone forever. Maybe I’ve become so far out of balance that I am just fucking stupid these days. It’s possible, anyway. I don’t know. I am in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Most of what goes on inside my head never makes it to the screen due to fear. There is only so much I can say here. The fact that everything has been crammed into a small container means pressure is building, the result of which could be very bad for me and those who know me. I am not referring to the exit, either. I am speaking of the type of situation in which I let things out in some random direction – or toward whomever is closest at the time – without the slightest bit being held back. Remaining ‘bottled’ as I have for so many years is not only a danger to myself. I have never felt so bad in my life. Eleven was a pile of shit, but looking back now, I see that my time in the apartment with all that confusion, sadness and turmoil was a fucking walk in the park. Believe it. I just can’t go further here, however. The result would be explosive and likely the end of everything. I no longer have the ability to hide. I can see now that the damaging dreams were only a matter of time. I was driven to think in such a manner, and my subconscious followed along like a needy puppy. I dreamed at night and awakened after each a bit further down. Eventually, I realized that such imagery came about due to being fucking squished. If only I had the resources to fully manipulate RF power. Nothing can withstand it. Nothing. Crushing power; right into and through earth, rock and people. Hypersonic hell. The dreams have caused me to reevaluate my position and worth in this life. They have also amplified my rampant desire more than I thought possible. Believe me, there has been desire before. This is completely different. Am I skewed? Oh, fuck yes. I am so fucking heeled over that recovery is most decidedly impossible. There is only one direction now. At some point I have to get away from this keyboard and the program which is boring the shit out of me. My housework awaits. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person, just one affected far too much to handle. And even more so for others to find the ability to handle me. My stuff is finished. I switched from the fifth show back to the dragons here in the office because since I’ve come this far with the story, I may as well allow it to run its entire course. I’ll try to avoid excessive complaining. There is plenty of other media I can run in the background, yet less which does not require my full attention. Anyway, the rest of this day will entail two loads of dry cleaning and very little else. I am considering a nice lunch, too. No, not at a restaurant. That idea came and went like a bullet train. Another day, perhaps. I need to streamline all my shit to ease the difficulty inside my brain. I’ve seen too much to fully relax anymore. My comfort comes in short bursts, none of which can carry me to another day. I have to continue seeking small doses of enjoyment here and there. One must connect to the next, as well. The moments between leave me wishing to flip a permanent switch; one whose time has not yet arrived. Not much about worship here. I just don’t care. I type what I type for whatever reason. Worship is inside me and slowly taking over, yet there is not much I can say about it because change in life is not possible in these late days. Where I am right now is where I shall remain for as long as I draw breath. My life has been over for a long time. I just didn’t realize it until recently. The past is looking better and better, and it is gone. The dreams look and feel better with each passing day, and they are impossible. The visions stir me and cause more desire than ever, and they are equally impossible. I take care of this house, shop when necessary, and every other aspect of my life that I’ve enjoyed for more than fifty years has disappeared. Part of such a change was the pandemic. It ruined any ‘real’ relaxation within society. Another part is simply the passage of time as viewed by an individual who knows the extent of the squishing. The only sharp focus I have anymore is the power of memory. I recall those times when the world did not appear as it does now, and I recall when I felt that the future was bright and full of both possibility and promise. Now I know otherwise. The causes no longer matter. When I sit here and look out the window, I see other people going about their lives – driving to and from work, walking dogs and children, and speaking to each other as they will – and I feel so far detached from all of it that I can’t believe it has come to this. I’ve stated on a few occasions that my entire universe comprises less than six thousand square feet for good reason. I have not the drive to do anything else. The desperation and desire have rendered me useless otherwise. Circumstances have gathered and left me without any reason to advance myself or attempt to create a place which could fit into a society ruled by the opposite of everything I've become. I have faith in nothing. Whatever resides within this little house is all I will ever have. Curious, I always thought the end of all things would be more dramatic somehow. I’ve written those words during better times, actually. I only thought they were bad. Now I know otherwise. Maybe I can secure a trip to the Sea in December or January. That would be nice. For whatever reason, the Sea and those beautiful nearby cities always helped me put everything into perspective. I am dropping now. Time to end this entry. At least I’ve accomplished something. I know... I am already dead."
May 17th, 2023 11:55am pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Tangential Worship
read ( words)
"1015 is what I see on the clock now. My routine is already finished and I have a fat glass of whiskey to calm everything inside my head. In the previous entry, I mentioned that I don’t want to do this anymore, yet there is still some sort of compulsion. The reason is either familiarity, habit, or the idea that most of the time I simply don’t have anything better to do with my time. Whenever I have a drink or need moments of pause during the day, this is where I end up. I suppose the process here will be perpetual. Make no mistake, despite the calm of my daily words, there are bad things at work inside me. The situation has become so dire that I am almost constantly considering reckless and damaging behavior to find what I’ve been seeking; the most likely outcome of which will undoubtedly be my life completely ruined. Fuck... I wish I could afford to drink something with better flavor. Whatever. The effects are the same. Soon I will probably move to the garage and straighten the work area in order to begin assembling the motorcycle. I have the frame and a plan for getting started, both safely and with the integrity of the new powder coat in mind. The process will be slow and steady. I am intelligent enough to bring the bike to a stable point in which it can be again fastened to the lift without risk. As I said, this will be slow. I will be assembling a motor vehicle and must keep safety in mind. Other than the motorcycle, there is little I care to do today. My head takes priority regardless of any distractions from my current condition. And believe me... Shit is fucking dire right now. The imperative inside my head has to be avoided until that bike is ready to roll out of the garage. Nathalie is so fucking adorable sometimes that the need to demonstrate my deep level of appreciation is ever-expanding. What I wouldn’t fucking give... Ugh... There was yet another keyword uttered during this program. I suppose it’s nothing terrible, but society’s view of that term and others that relate can be problematic. Very little that takes place during some media is not problematic, actually. I just have to deal with it, yet the fact that I am nearly always alone does help. I need not answer to anyone. Clambake. Friday is here sans fanfare for the common webmaster. No fanfare whatsoever, actually. I expect nothing. The bike work went fine yesterday, as did the bit of housework I performed. Very little of that will be happening today. I don’t feel like doing much because my brain is sideways. There exists little in this world with the ability to make me smile. Finishing the work is close, though. Sort of close, anyway. I need more, but... Where is what I need? Somewhere in the world? At least the house is quiet for several hours. Better than nothing. I can think a bit. I need to think much more than a bit, actually, yet the answers still elude. And I am still typing regardless of the futility of this endeavor. Why? Another question without an answer. Saturday morning, 0957. My coffee has been consumed. The laundry is rolling along and will be finished within the hour. I may or may not continue assembling the rear of the bike today. Right now I don’t know how I feel about that project, though. The engine has become a problem and will require much more time to repair prior to installation; a repair I attempted but could not finish due to a lack of tools and equipment. It’s more complicated than a simple drill and thread process. The head needs to be welded and then I can fabricate a way to mount the exhaust flange. I have no idea how long this is going to take, so if I do work out there today the focus will be whatever can be installed without interfering with the engine. Little things, I guess. The more I can attach, the less there is taking up space in my garage. The engine may be last. Here I sit at 1113 with nearly zero drive. I finished my daily routine and cleaned the bottom shelf (yikes) of the refrigerator. I also took care of the laundry. Now my day is wide open, yet I have no idea of how to proceed with anything. My head has been flip-flopping from work around the house and bike to all of the trouble outlined here throughout the past few months. At some point I will probably don my boots and install more parts on the motorcycle, I suppose. I don’t really have anything pressing right now. I need to find a way of squashing the difficulties in order to arrive at the close of business hours feeling somewhat accomplished. For the time being I am going to sit here and backtalk the video media while sipping my morning glass of depressant. The information swirling inside my head must be calmed before I can be of any use otherwise. This is a bad time. I have lost too much for anything in life to come easy. Maybe I should cook a pizza and relax on the sofa for a little while. I can still derive enjoyment from a few practices, and lunch in front of some agreeable media is one of them. Moreover, such comfort helps to slow the slideshow of lost memories inside my brain. For a little while, anyway. Nothing has the power to cease this pain. Nothing. Oh, there were snippets of respite here and there, but now, on this latest of days, even they have abandoned me. No one is listening, nor will they be in the future. I have to find ways of coping and holding myself up without assistance. That is a tall order, to say the least. I don’t know how to effectively deal with this shit anymore. Call me what you must. Sometimes I think Jaime should have lopped of Cersei’s fucking pretty head at the outset of season number seven. I realize we need reprehensible, deluded, evil characters to offset the good, but fucking hell... And please! The world is rolling by outside my window and I am scarcely a part of it anymore. I was thinking earlier this morning that all my nice, button-down shirts are all but useless these days. I wear one whenever we have occasion to visit her family – like in a week or two for a birthday – but otherwise they just hang in the closet collecting dust on the shoulders. I used to go out all the time, be it lunch or some other trip, but the pandemic ruined everything. Even though public concern has eased (perhaps not rightly so, too), the fact is that nothing is the same as it was four years ago. Tons of restaurants have gone away, my resources have been chopped to bits, and the feeling of sitting at a bar dressed to the nines for a nice, cozy lunch has been burned away. I can still go out from time to time (alone, of course), yet the actual ‘feeling’ is nowhere near the same. I suppose the best way to express my sadness over the changes is to state that I have lost all trust in what I formerly embraced. There were things I wanted to do and they are all gone. No longer possible. Not the same as in the past, anyway. I suppose I should try to remember being in wondrous, beautiful places with all of the comfort available because the future holds none of the same. Like the imagery in my head regarding ‘understanding’, I am finding that more and more of the good has gone away forever. I can go through the motions, however. Anytime I feel the pull of the past. I really can. But? What will I feel afterward? Satisfaction? Nope. That is another word that can no longer be applied to anything. The only satisfaction since last year is the aforementioned agreeable meal here at home combined with whatever media has the ability to stir my imagination without destroying my feelings. I am still looking out the window and wondering if anyone else out there feels this as deeply as I. There were things I wanted to do. They all seemed within reach. I had thought the beginning of the end was back in seventeen. Nope. The beginning was last year. I have never felt this disillusioned before. A few days ago was plenty bad, but now? A little further with each passing day. The outlook continues to darken as I go about my business. The thoughts in my head darken, as well. I can barely scratch the surface whenever I see some kind of form. And the other one? I can’t even begin to speak about her. Oh, and the other one, too. Words would not be good right now. The way I feel... Well, let’s just say my mood has an upper limit these days and it is not very far from angry. All those things I wanted to do are fading as the seconds hand ticks along. From all the way back in high school when we rode our bikes to the top of Parkmeadow drive, I have had a few clear images inside my head. Yes, forty-plus years’ worth. Those images are now burned.
1151. I am going to have a light snack and then see what I can attach to the bike with some nice music in the background. My drink is finished for the time being. If I continue with the booze, it will be the lowly beer from the refrigerator in the garage. Maybe I won’t have a snack. I just don’t care right now. Well, a while later and I feel fairly accomplished. Not work inside the house, though, just the garage. I have assembled more of the bike and straightened everything a second time. The rest of this day will be mellow. Sunday is here. My business today will take less time than usual due to a simplistic dinner last night. I can’t get the difficult imagery to stop causing pain this morning. Some of it rolls back and forth past my eyes and forces me to realize that I will never be in those places again, a thought with enough power to push away the troubling loss of everything I wanted to do in life. I don’t understand why things must be this way. The memories, experiences and other periods of life which seemed to bring comfort now seem so far away that I am beginning to believe none of them were real. Maybe I fell asleep in eighty-nine and did not awaken until this very year. Or? Last year. I will admit that part of me has been hurt by an issue in the program I’ve been trying to follow here and there. It was a problem that is directly related to the manner in which my life has unfolded. At the time (yesterday afternoon, perhaps), I did not think much about it. As the next few hours passed, the situation sank in more and more. I am not going to detail all that shit here, however, because nothing will be served by ‘complaining’ further than I already have. All I am saying is that since nothing ever fully leaves my memory, each tiny speck of trouble attaches itself to the increasing mass of shit in my head and shoves me further into the ground. As I work through my Sunday, I’ll have to maintain perspective with regard to societal norms and the overly unrealistic nature of the way people seem to think about life itself. That’s a fucking mouthful. Moreover, the dinner group went to the City for outing number two last night and the discussion via group chat (on the phone; a group of which I am still a part) showed off the enjoyment of everyone involved, as well as what looked like a unique meal. Am I disappointed? No. I don’t talk to anyone these days, nor do I have any desire whatsoever to be near some of those people. Each individual is related in one way or another to the next individual, eventually leading me to see society in a very bad light, and meaning I can’t be around certain people without seeing them as a part of the problem rather than just another person. Throughout the evening, I recalled our first dinner last summer and all those big events of the past with my family. I also thought about the last few trips to the mountains – which came to a harsh end more than two years ago – and feel sadness over losing a wonderful, stirring way of life within which I was raised. All this shit adds up to nothing more than a mass of loss; a gigantic hole in the world. My world, honestly. Everything ends up somehow related to everything else these days. I don’t see going to dinner or anywhere else leaving me feeling good in some way, so I’ll stay right here where I’ve been since December. I have to look out for myself – good or bad as the idea may be – and live the only way that seems right for me. I don’t know what else to do anymore. I miss everything, but mostly I miss not knowing what the future held and feeling as if there were possibilities and promise. Knowing the reverse is very painful. The dinner group will only remind me that I am the only person who thinks in such a manner. Not good. I wish I had at least a few answers beyond the information that exists for me daily. The more I think, the more I realize anything further is most likely impossible; as much so as the understanding that I’ve so badly needed. This is all so fucking bad that I am currently going back and forth between continuing to type by finding different ways to say what I feel, and giving up completely because no one is listening. The keyboard is inanimate. The difficulty within the program last night swung very quickly from one side of the world to the other, and several times. I saw things better left out of this content, most notably a very dark, slender woman with insane eyes standing over five-eight with lines all over the fucking place. The issues of the earlier story faded for a short time while I gazed lovingly at her form and wondered if anything of the like would ever cross my living vision again. Very soon, however, one type of pain was traded for another and I went back to the toughest root causes of my entire life. The show’s writers must be very proud. They have a knack for stirring the pot. This morning I’ve been recalling the way she appeared on the screen. Doing so does not help me, but the hole inside my being often takes over before I find the ability to squash it and send my focus elsewhere. Last night I was all over the place prior to seeking sleep. As a result of so much turmoil, I have faint memories of dreams involving beauty and desire, yet nothing is clear at all. There are only fragments now. No faces. I believe one of my dreams from a few years ago attached itself to these unrealistic, exaggerated images and caused me to recall a feeling from the early part of the pandemic era. I can’t really talk about it, though. Just know that I may have changed too much in the past three years to properly function as a real grownup type of person. I don’t believe there can be doubt of such a fact any longer. Very bad. Don’t even get me started on the damaging dreams. Those are an entirely different level of trouble. Anyway, the woman on the show last night reminded me of the depth of my obsession with the female form and the mass of physical desire it can give birth to in a matter of seconds. As such, the issue drives my head back to the difficulty I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph. Visions lead to desire; desire leads to pain. Very simple. 0905. The last cup of coffee is next to me. The Red Woman is freakishly scary sometimes. ‘Paw, I can’t move those damn pigs.’ ‘You watch your cussin’ now.’ I will leave this behind soon and begin my Sunday business. The green can is nearly empty, so perhaps thanks to the sunshine I can move to the backyard and trim a few things. There is always plenty of room for organic waste and I should attend to the yards more often now that the weather has improved over the first few months of the year. None of that work takes very much time anyway. Half an hour, at best. I may also further assemble the motorcycle in the interest of organizing my garage. The routine will be very short today thanks to another simple dinner. All too often the only way to forget the huge void inside my heart is to engage in housework. One would think this place could be a palace after all this time. Unfortunately, too often I end up knocked on my ass prior to finding enough drive to improve anything. Maybe today I can go a little bit further with the efforts. The time is such that I’ll begin my stuff very soon, if for no other reason than to feel a tad better about myself today. Perhaps all this shit really is unfair. I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I reach because I am desperate for understanding and wrought with pain. And no one is listening. This fucking interface seems preoccupied with contractions and often corrects my practice of splitting them in half. Well, fuck you too. I will probably never have the chance to demonstrate my appreciation to those who (in my mind) deserve it. Another loss in life, just like all the rest. There seemed to be plenty of time, and yes, I realize how that must sound. I’m sure plenty of other people have expressed the same depressive sentiment. Sometimes you can lump me in with all the rest, I suppose. I am still just a person, maybe. Or maybe I am the machine. All this worship has gotten me exactly nowhere. I am worse off right now than at any time in the past because back then when I began to worship something, it was directly in front of me. Now? I worship things that are either unreal – as in fantasy – or impossible, such as all those fucking visions floating around in society as they defy any sense of reality, yet are actually real. I am still in the same fucking bowl of soup no matter the case. At least Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I guess I’ll have to grade all my shit aside and go through the motions. Maybe I’ll return here in a little while and further lament a situation and life as forged by irrational worship.
Here I sit at 1130 with some of my business out of the way. This is good. What is not good is the inside of my fucking head. Each day finds me less able to cope with the current situation in general, and a complete lack of fulfillment in particular. Such a thought always brings me to state that I do not understand. Well, there is no other way to put a finer point on this shit anymore. I honestly do not fucking understand why I’ve been made to be squished. I don’t want to have to upend my entire life in order to demonstrate my vast knowledge of the potential damage caused by excessive RF power. I may be nothing more than a tiny soul floating within a very depressive soup, but I still have a ton of experience and expertise in slamming those around me with very uncomfortable, unwelcome circumstances. I am not referring to the minuscule amount of energy that is transmitted from a mobile device, nor am I speaking of music. Trust me, I know how to force others to back away. I have the next several hours to myself. Business first. I need to think about this shit. One idea is to pare down my entire existence and focus my efforts on a massive demonstration which will ensure no one wishes to approach me about anything. Hmm. I still have power. I have an easy day ahead. The trash work is simple, I’ll have something agreeable and quick for lunch, there is no laundry to speak of, and most of the hours ahead are subject to my mood and whims. I rarely have anything daunting ahead. To the contrary, the more straightforward my days, the more time there is for considering just how unhappy I have become. Every positive is accompanied by an unequal negative. This is a very bad situation, the likes of which will kill me in time. Easy day or not, I will come out the other side no different. Nothing improves. Only distractions persist. Jesus fucking holy hell shit do I ever need her. ‘Her’. No, not THAT ‘her’. The other one... The one who invaded my dreams. Never in my life have I needed anything so badly, not even the Passion. That is a ‘want’, not a ‘need’. My desire may lead to destructive behavior. I’ve done it. I might do it again, although circumstances and my age may dictate otherwise. I fucking hate this. There was something, and then there was something else, yet at this late date everything is gone. Fucking gone. I don’t know what to do anymore. The little enjoyments feel more temporary than they have in years. The lines are converging and there is nothing I can do about it. Splendid. Perhaps the RF power should be my focus. I can free myself from everything else in support of such a goal. We shall see how I feel about the RF power in the coming days. 1223. I have some of the garbage business finished and a nice pizza in the oven. I took a short break in the garage for a cigarette and saw that my efforts in assembling the motorcycle are bearing fruit insofar as creating space. As I said, the more I install, the less there is laying around the area. I am hoping to have the garage in decent order by the fourth of July so I can grill hot dogs on the driveway. The real destination is Halloween, though. Many people will stroll up to the open garage and my empire should be in full-swing by then. I hope so, anyway. God damn, the need is overwhelming these days. As I said, there had been something and it is now gone. The other thing was gone prior to it. Everything is gone, hence my fucked up mood today. The thing from last year has been piled atop everything else, too. There are no more ears or even potential ears. I held back. I always held back. But? My head softened to the idea far too late for any possible ‘good’ to come from those ears. Ears rhymes with years, right? Years would be required for another step in the same direction. I don’t have the fucking time, nor do I feel like flaying myself wide-open just for the chance. I may not even be capable anymore. To label me as closed-off is a gross understatement. I am so unhappy that any clear description of my current state is all but impossible. I don’t have the words. ‘Next sound you hear...’ Maybe I’ll sit here all day. Does my time even matter? Do I matter? Shut up. 1515. All my stuff is done for the day. I even went to the back and trimmed the trees a bit. There was a vision for a few seconds that attempted to break me in half. I recovered for the most part. Such occurrences will happen again. I no longer have a choice in the matter. I don’t believe I’ll be doing any more work today, either. My level of caring is very low right now. What I have already accomplished should be plenty, anyway. Stating that I am disillusioned is nowhere near enough today. Aside from dinner and a shower, I’m not going to attempt shit. Monday, May 15th. What does it mean? I have most of the day to myself after caring for the morning business. This is good. I need the peace and quiet to help extricate or understand all of the scenarios that have been playing out inside my head for days. As of yet, I haven’t found a coping method. The imagery, memories and dreams continue to deprive me of any comfort in life. Everything is bad. At least I have coffee and the aforementioned quiet time. The weather is already warm, too. Maybe the heat will be enough to melt the thoughts inside my brain. Another paragraph bereft of reference or detail. I was right there, yet had no idea. I was looking around in a new place. I didn’t know if there was a plan, but very soon I noticed that I had been left out of what was to transpire; mentally, anyway. I was there and I learned of everything. The entire idea nearly took me off my feet. There was lots of water, as well. Lots of water and ideas. The view was next to me. Big windows. I didn’t know just a little while before. Soon I knew everything and turned the plan on one ear. I needed to change the plan. Now there can be no plan; no nothing. I am going to sit right here for the rest of my life and recall all sorts of wondrous aspects of life and then watch it all go by my window. But I was there. You can believe it. Off my feet and close to ‘off my rocker’. Whiskey and windows. Later? Beer, but not my choice. Heavy and thick, like alcoholic syrup, as it were. Heavy. I don’t know how that fucking situation happened. And now here I sit for the rest of my life. The paragraph is bereft of detail, but I am bereft of hope. 0922. I still have some coffee left. There is plenty of day left, too. I wish I knew what to do with it. And now? 1044. I have everything finished for the morning. I also placed an order with the big wine store for pickup tomorrow before lunch. Maybe I’ll swing into one of my favorite lunch spots. Anything to bring a bit of enjoyment. I don’t have anything pressing upon my time today, meaning I will probably descend into a pit of depression very soon. It may have already started thanks to the great reset button of the universe. I am almost constantly at a fucking loss. Yes, I was right there. More than once, actually, yet only a handful of occasions stand out in my tired mind. ‘I think we can take Olaf.’ Indeed. The world is going by outside my window. I am no longer a part of it, though. The only time I leave the house is to go shopping, and even then I try to have an order ready so I need not be in society for too long. I just don’t understand why things must be as they are. I don’t fucking understand. I’ve never asked much of the world. During those very special moments, I was thankful to be in such places and during wondrous times. All of that is now behind me, unfortunately. There is little ahead. There is not much left. I can only hope that when I was there, I appreciated it enough. Right now I have no idea. Maybe I figured those places would return at some point in the future, but then again... During the glow I calculated there would be plenty of time for everything. Splendid. The glow is looking better and better as the days fly by. Even then, I found the wondrous moments. There is no more wonder. Danaerys’ outfit is absolutely stunning in this episode. The people who created the costumes for this series hit it out of the fucking park. Don’t even get me started on Missandei’s fucking clothing. Her shoulders are a universe all their own. I wish I could have licked them. And more. Shut up. Be happy I am not speaking of the French girl.
I had to stop the program that has been running on my right-hand display for several weeks. I simply had to stop it because the ‘plot armor’ did not hold up. I am not saying that I disagree with everything, but one point does stand out head and shoulders above the rest. When we are driven to be emotionally invested in characters and they perish, the results are typically questions and anger. But those are human characters. When the same takes place with the beasts, we are expected to feel it less. Well, I disagree. I will not say much more on this topic, yet I will state that the way the ‘magic’ and ‘history’ were handled by those in charge was completely ridiculous and reprehensible. Do not give us intelligent media for years and then stoop to chopping off the viewer’s path with unrealistic devices designed to do nothing more than shock. Do us all a favor and research your shit prior to spending millions on CG imagery which does not compute. Ugh... I hate this shit. Normally, I do not comment upon issues with fantasy. They all give way to more sensitive topics which reside deep in my heart. I will say one thing in this vein, however. I will say there is no more dominion and the origin of that term should have been destroyed thousands of years ago. I’d head in such a direction, but I have no power. I feel like tossing everything I own into the trash, save for those items I mentioned in the previous entry. I really feel it right now. Maybe further severing my connections to the outside world will suffice for the time being. I don’t know. No power. No nothing. This endeavor is going nowhere, like always. Give me a reason. Here I sit on Tuesday morning with coffee and the fucking show. It is beginning to irritate me a bit. Later this morning I need to pick up the order from the big wine store and then stop at the restaurant again on the way home. The new projection lamp arrived and I’ll be installing it for all of five minutes. I also need to pop into the goddess market for a few items. Upon returning, a fat glass of alcohol will probably be in order for several reasons. Whatever. I’m used to it. And I just spoke with a woman at the wine store because one of the items I ordered is out of stock. That is not a big deal, though. The problem is the inflection of her pronunciation of the letter ‘r’ was adorable and I had a difficult time concentrating upon the actual conversation as opposed to listening to her beautiful voice. I’m all fucked up these days. I think perhaps today will be pretty simple. Once I return from the shopping, the plan is to relax a while and formulate some kind of plan regarding ridding myself of shit and organizing everything. 1244. Everything is finished. I ventured to the wine store and goddess market, returned home to unload the car, and then went back out to the restaurant to help with the television. I arrived home for the second time and took care of what remained of my daily routine. And yes, I changed the frame format of the entire site back to the wide view. Wednesday morning and not all is well. There is a bell from hell. I can tell. My brain rolls along the road of holes. Holy road. Holey road. Right there... All bouncing breasts and flowing hair; the facial trait only cemented my feelings last year. Late last year. And once I saw it? Oh, God help me for the thoughts. Dreams. Imagination gone insane and fully outside the bounds and realm of reality; further and further into a place of solitude due to necessity. All alone in there. All alone and feeling nothing more than pain and loss. I always see a little bit. Something escaping my vision does cause me to hurt, yet I have been able to deal with it thus far (somehow). Many things have escaped my vision, but an equal number have caused me to explode with passion on the inside. Passion. The word itself is nowhere near enough. Right there. I was looking for lines and found some of them were missing. The absent lines were yet another story that I did not consider until early this year. I did not know, but I suspected. Two confirmations of dreams. Two. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this amount of worship? How in hell am I to deal with the fact that the most important aspects of life have left me on the side of the road? What can I do about the idea of knowing? I know too much because I’ve spent years (mostly just the last one) stretching and contorting myself in order to garner a look at something which may as well not even exist. They are all still inside me, too. Every single one of them. A handful stand out from the rest. I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost, I am lost, and all I see is loss. One way or another, for one reason or another, it’s all gone. Thanks, Mr. Stanton. Wednesday morning and all is confusing. I don’t understand why everything had to go away. I am at fault for a lot of shit in this life, but not everything. There have been other forces at work. Powerful forces. Squishing. Lamenting. Pushing. And there is another word I hesitate to place here for reasons of good form. Sit on it. Keep waiting. That word may yet come to this place. Wednesday morning and all I have left in the world is coffee and a few hours of optional time. Bits and pieces of something enjoyable here and there. The grand wall of shit inside me holds back a flood of feelings. Nothing in the world can alter such a situation. Not even her. The other one could have a chance, though. Unfortunately, there can be no certainty of such a statement. I’ll not know whether those lines are absent for good reason, nor can I learn just how deep they flow. I need to know everything even though I already know too much. The wall will keep prying eyes away from my feelings, meaning I must continue to fight off the desperate need to learn. This is a very dangerous situation, and not just for myself. I want to know. I need to know. I need to see everything in ways that many people may not understand because the knowledge inside me must find the truth of reality, and a lack of the same is killing me. Wednesday morning and she is wrapped around my brain, just like the others. Wednesday may turn to shit. I don’t want that to happen right now. Maybe another time. The three dreams from last year may have fucked me up for all time. Not a day goes by when I do not picture a real situation developing from each set of images, and at the same time I desire her so much that all too often I feel as if I will completely lose my mind once and for all. This morning is just like all the rest, finding me sitting here like always with a head full of everything I want and need, yet knowing nothing good can exist on my horizon. Wednesday morning and nothing is well. Wednesday morning. Each day is the same as the last. My life has been reduced to silent worship in impossible directions. No one knows what is going on inside me. There are no ears, nor will there ever be. I will continue to see; I will continue to dream. None of this shit matters. Wednesday morning and my brain is all the way up her dress. Up there, where life begins. The cup of coffee next to me is the last, meaning afterward the short-term schedule should follow along with the last thousand-plus days. I don’t know if it will, however. The need is beginning to force my hand. The future has been grayed out for a very long time. Each day is simply more of the same, but with an added bonus of less time ahead of me. There used to be lots of time. Perhaps there has never been as much time as I had thought. Too bad. No fanfare; no nothing. All I have left is a massive, overpowering and confusing combination of detriment, loss, and desire. The latter is unfocused. I would state that my life has been decimated by other people, but the term is too often used incorrectly. People do not realize that to decimate means to cut into ten pieces. I’ll just say ‘ruined’. Squished. Stepped upon; this is still happening. I am fucking sick of everything right now. Wednesday morning and all is fucked. Wednesday morning. What does it mean? I saw those things. I saw quite a bit; some close and some more distant. I thought of her when I saw the girl in gray. I also thought of her when I saw the pants being tugged at the goddess market. I always think of her when something crosses my desperate vision. The dreams are the most likely cause of the connections I’ve made since last year. There is nothing I can do about this shit, either. Not a fucking stitch of anything. Nothing. The scathing essay I wrote was nearly six years ago. That was a bad time. Just imagine how I feel all these years later.
Where is this heading? The au pair waves at me whenever I am in the garage during her daily walks. I’m quite certain that the appearance of my empire can be rather off-putting to some people, although she is very young and likely a touch more open-minded. The last thing I am going to do is speak to her for any reason, save for some kind of emergency. Do I want to speak with her? Not really. Do I want anything else? Nope. She is a person. I may have to get out of this fucking house for a little while today. Everything I’ve seen has been combining and pressing me into a very small space. Seeing a smidgen of the world from a barstool could provide a measure of relief. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Remaining home is cheaper. I suppose I’ll stay put. I’ll tell you one fucking thing, though... With the right resources, I would be half ghost and half person (if I even am a person these days). Maybe more than half ghost. My entire life is minuscule. Six thousand feet of space, the occasional drive for those items at different stores, and the view out my office window. That’s all I have. I suppose sometimes the grand visions of where I’ve been in the past take over and force me to consider going out to lunch. The odds of me going anywhere beyond the driveway are pretty fucking scarce. That is the truth. I’m not going anywhere. I guess I’ll try to work in the office today. Wednesday morning and my brain is saturated with desire-filled imagery. Much of it never goes away. The only relief is when I am busy, yet even then I can be quickly and easily overpowered by the tiniest image popping into my head unexpectedly. Lately I have been watching the fifth show because it came up in my rotation. Two days ago I realized that Jamie is the only character for whom I feel very little on the physical side of things. Jolene used to share such a feeling. Well, not anymore. I fell off that cliff and hit my head, I suppose, because when I see her now there is massive desire. Massive. Hence, when I am busy, the shit returns to me anyway. I can’t get around it unless I avoid the streaming media. That just ain’t going to happen, so... Once more for posterity, I am fucked. Nothing in the world has the power to remove what I’ve been feeling for ten fucking years. Oh, yes... There have been moments. They are gone forever. Maybe I’ve become so far out of balance that I am just fucking stupid these days. It’s possible, anyway. I don’t know. I am in a bad fuckin’ spot here. Most of what goes on inside my head never makes it to the screen due to fear. There is only so much I can say here. The fact that everything has been crammed into a small container means pressure is building, the result of which could be very bad for me and those who know me. I am not referring to the exit, either. I am speaking of the type of situation in which I let things out in some random direction – or toward whomever is closest at the time – without the slightest bit being held back. Remaining ‘bottled’ as I have for so many years is not only a danger to myself. I have never felt so bad in my life. Eleven was a pile of shit, but looking back now, I see that my time in the apartment with all that confusion, sadness and turmoil was a fucking walk in the park. Believe it. I just can’t go further here, however. The result would be explosive and likely the end of everything. I no longer have the ability to hide. I can see now that the damaging dreams were only a matter of time. I was driven to think in such a manner, and my subconscious followed along like a needy puppy. I dreamed at night and awakened after each a bit further down. Eventually, I realized that such imagery came about due to being fucking squished. If only I had the resources to fully manipulate RF power. Nothing can withstand it. Nothing. Crushing power; right into and through earth, rock and people. Hypersonic hell. The dreams have caused me to reevaluate my position and worth in this life. They have also amplified my rampant desire more than I thought possible. Believe me, there has been desire before. This is completely different. Am I skewed? Oh, fuck yes. I am so fucking heeled over that recovery is most decidedly impossible. There is only one direction now. At some point I have to get away from this keyboard and the program which is boring the shit out of me. My housework awaits. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person, just one affected far too much to handle. And even more so for others to find the ability to handle me. My stuff is finished. I switched from the fifth show back to the dragons here in the office because since I’ve come this far with the story, I may as well allow it to run its entire course. I’ll try to avoid excessive complaining. There is plenty of other media I can run in the background, yet less which does not require my full attention. Anyway, the rest of this day will entail two loads of dry cleaning and very little else. I am considering a nice lunch, too. No, not at a restaurant. That idea came and went like a bullet train. Another day, perhaps. I need to streamline all my shit to ease the difficulty inside my brain. I’ve seen too much to fully relax anymore. My comfort comes in short bursts, none of which can carry me to another day. I have to continue seeking small doses of enjoyment here and there. One must connect to the next, as well. The moments between leave me wishing to flip a permanent switch; one whose time has not yet arrived. Not much about worship here. I just don’t care. I type what I type for whatever reason. Worship is inside me and slowly taking over, yet there is not much I can say about it because change in life is not possible in these late days. Where I am right now is where I shall remain for as long as I draw breath. My life has been over for a long time. I just didn’t realize it until recently. The past is looking better and better, and it is gone. The dreams look and feel better with each passing day, and they are impossible. The visions stir me and cause more desire than ever, and they are equally impossible. I take care of this house, shop when necessary, and every other aspect of my life that I’ve enjoyed for more than fifty years has disappeared. Part of such a change was the pandemic. It ruined any ‘real’ relaxation within society. Another part is simply the passage of time as viewed by an individual who knows the extent of the squishing. The only sharp focus I have anymore is the power of memory. I recall those times when the world did not appear as it does now, and I recall when I felt that the future was bright and full of both possibility and promise. Now I know otherwise. The causes no longer matter. When I sit here and look out the window, I see other people going about their lives – driving to and from work, walking dogs and children, and speaking to each other as they will – and I feel so far detached from all of it that I can’t believe it has come to this. I’ve stated on a few occasions that my entire universe comprises less than six thousand square feet for good reason. I have not the drive to do anything else. The desperation and desire have rendered me useless otherwise. Circumstances have gathered and left me without any reason to advance myself or attempt to create a place which could fit into a society ruled by the opposite of everything I've become. I have faith in nothing. Whatever resides within this little house is all I will ever have. Curious, I always thought the end of all things would be more dramatic somehow. I’ve written those words during better times, actually. I only thought they were bad. Now I know otherwise. Maybe I can secure a trip to the Sea in December or January. That would be nice. For whatever reason, the Sea and those beautiful nearby cities always helped me put everything into perspective. I am dropping now. Time to end this entry. At least I’ve accomplished something. I know... I am already dead."
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