Day Thirteen Mature content No. 415 Published June 23rd, 2024 11:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Nothing much going on here this morning. The usual; coffee, my program, and a nice view out the window. Not bad. I’ve already felt the morning difficulty and there is nothing I can do about it, and all this shit prior to nine on the clock. Splendid. Where is my savior? Or the other one? Or that girl from that one time? Her eyes? Her help? How about that girl who tried to save me from myself and what I had become? No one is there, although Jamie and her unbelievable eyes are on the right-hand display at the moment. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I guess that ‘thing’ which came about some years ago is not in my future. No repeat. No understanding. No nothing. I could slap Carmela’s mother right now. This is day fourteen. Good luck calculating that shit. Anyway, I am very unhappy this morning and will have to push pretty fucking hard to make it through to the afternoon without further issue. I have to go to the market soon. Hopefully, I will not see anything damaging. For some reason, there is an image in my head this morning which I can’t define, nor am I aware of its genesis. Part of me is thinking that it may have to do with the woman I named Jaime four years ago. No, not Jamie, who is over there on the display, but the other one – the fictional woman that I manufactured and subsequently loved. I wish I could learn why that form is in my head today. A couple hours later and I find myself right back here staring at Jamie’s fucking eyes again. Big surprise. I finished the routine and visited the market for a few items. The laundry is running, too. Typical day? For the most part. My watch arrived from the UK and it is everything I remembered. I sold mine some years ago for whatever reason and then decided that was a huge mistake. The cool part is I paid quite a sum for it the first time and did not lose money when it was sold. This one? Two hundred dollars cheaper due to being used, yet it hardly has any marks anywhere; mostly just the clasp, and that is typical for a wristwatch that’s been worn. This is the third watch I’ve purchased this year. That means nothing more until next year. I’m creating a collection again, a little at a time and much more selective. I can’t fucking help it, either. Tuesday is here and I don’t know what it means. One day disappears, the next one arrives, and the only difference I see is the actual name. Adriana is wearing that bra again; the one that seems to have two straps from the top of each cup. The appearance is really cool. Anyway, today will be a lot like yesterday except for the trip to the market. I don’t need to go anywhere. THere are a few things I passed on yesterday, meaning I need to take care of them today, and before lunch would be best. I lost my way again yesterday as predicted. I don’t want to have anything left to do in case it happens again. The morning was very sad and turned into a fucking disaster, and I don’t need any more of that shit, either. I am already plenty upset over a questionable vision of Jaime and then thinking about the passage of time and how my future options have become limited due to the same. The situation yesterday morning is pressing me to withdraw into a fantasy world of just her and the other places, leaving reality for other people. I can alter this office to follow suit. The morning is difficult in one way and easier than the afternoon in other ways, yet I have not been able to truly push my way through those feelings. All I’ve done is forced myself to do work. Not the same. I need to get the early business finished so I can return here and enjoy the quiet as much as possible. We go... And... Done. Now what? Perhaps I should point out that I’ve been accused of saying the same things over and over using different words at times, and to be completely honest, I cannot disagree. Part of the reason is my difficulty in being here without answers to some very important questions, another part being due to having been squished, routed or otherwise left on the side of the fucking road for years. So yes, I am going to continue to analyze and type words regardless of whether or not I am getting anywhere. I own the place, but before degrading into a tirade related to the fact that ‘this is all mine’, I must point out that the alternative is not good and will only create more questions, both for those reading and myself. I am compelled to continue. The same words? Yep... That’s going to occur regardless of my feelings. I only know so many words. The site content has not advanced much in many years. Well, other than some scripts and other doodads I’ve added to make navigation and coding easier, that is. The things I’ve said here are not likely to change anytime soon. Routing; squishing; having been disregarded by just the right people... These are the voyages of the starship ‘go fuck yaself’. And the site, too. Do it. The last of the coffee. I’ve typed those words 36 times throughout the past four years. That is a clear indication that my head is lost in the morning. Coffee? Gone. Routine? Done. Cocktail? Right here on the table, like always. I have ideas for how to proceed with my day, but time will tell if any of them actually come to fruition. I’m planning a lighter lunch than yesterday, so maybe I won’t end up all weighed down by food. I’ll be weighed down by other things, for sure. The only weight over which I have control is what I decide to eat each day. The rest is beyond my abilities thus far. Much of the state is baking in a short heatwave, but here, a half mile from the ocean, there is low-hanging fog blowing over the roofs of the houses. I commented last night that despite some people experiencing difficulties due to the heat, each day when I walk out to the garage I need to put on a sweatshirt. That’s interesting. One range of hills keeps the temperatures separate. Eight minutes up the road the mercury can be in the mid eighties, while right here it sits around the mid sixties. I waited a very long time to live on the coast and it is everything for which I had hoped. I must keep the positives in mind. Ugh... There is Jamie again. What the fuck is wrong with me? Never mind. Anyway, the rest of the day could be good or bad and the whole shitaree is entirely up to me. Wednesday? Yeah... Wednesday. Coffee. Same shit as yesterday. Everything is the same, except I am sitting here roughly half an hour earlier because of the schedule. Tuesday disappeared like all the rest. I finished the canopy over the smaller mural and wired everything, so that is good. The project has been irritating me a little bit. A few more odds and ends will have my garage in decent condition. I didn’t really work in the shed yesterday, though. I need shelf brackets and I have to think about swapping the dresser for the mattresses prior to moving anything. I’d like to keep that space as neat as possible. That should not be a problem for someone like me. The last of the coffee just appeared on my table. Nice. Afterward, I’ll have to take care of a few items that have been sitting idle. The usual stuff will be first on the list, and then some other direction will take up the rest of my morning. I assembled the cable tray but it’s still sitting here on the table awaiting installation. Perhaps that should take priority over the smaller chores. There is plenty of time. And now there is Jamie with a big, bright smile causing my heart to flutter all over the fucking place. The weather is the same as yesterday. My outlook is the same, too. Nothing changes unless I make it happen, and in order to do that I need to care. Right now I barely give a shit about anything except the minimum. I will try to focus upon the necessities and the office today. Try. That’s all I have. My head is half sideways right now. The rest of the morning will be a difficult uphill battle, like many other mornings. I don’t have any options when it comes to fixing such a condition. At least I have a huge bottle of painkillers and plenty of alcohol. Combined, they almost help. Let’s get some housework done, shall we? Better. I have my fatass cocktail and I’ve finished the morning routine. As for the cable tray, I believe it will have to wait until other concerns are addressed. The focus should be the house itself, not the control center or anything trivial. All of my toys and other projects must wait. I ordered a wet saw – the type I used way back when working at the glass plant – in order to finish the trim on the bathroom window and cut the side splash so it can be installed. And yes, the bathroom was supposed to be finished nearly five years ago, but I’m slow. I’ve been trying to do better for two reasons. First, the feeling of accomplishment still helps me get through my days, and second, little tasks keep me from falling off the edge of the world much of the time. Believe me, if anything can keep my head from going sideways, I’ll embrace it. I think the motivation I’m experiencing this morning has been driven primarily from a standpoint of survival. Improving the house is always good, and if I can benefit in other ways at the same time, all the better. I’ll ride the wave for as long as it carries me. The inside of my head has been swamped with feelings of desire for that girl – the damaging dreams are responsible – and I simply MUST do something to distract myself. Sadness is one thing; physical desire is an entirely different problem. I’ve seen too much, I remember too much, and I don’t see anything positive on the horizon. No darkened doorstep; no limousine and briefcase; no otherworldly connections. I want her so bad that sometimes I can’t fucking do anything but sit here and sip my whiskey. The painkillers have accomplished their goal. Unfortunately, they can’t eliminate desire. Not real The title is ‘day fourteen’. Well, today is day sixteen. Do you know what that means? No, you don’t. Keep trying. I have never included anything so cryptic as this series of entries. Good fucking luck. Thursday, post-drive and shopping at the big business store. The drive was a touch tedious due to weekday commute traffic, but nothing serious. The store was a breeze, like most visits. Upon returning, I ordered sandwiches for later. Sometimes it’s nice to go outside the norm a little bit to have something different for a change. Anyway, I am still sipping coffee after ten in the morning and have yet to take care of the typical routine. I’ll get to it soon. Something is very wrong and I can’t seem to understand why. The hour is later and everything is finished. This is good because the inside of my head is not well to say the least. Very bad, this shit. Very fucking bad. I am only alive for about three reasons, and one of them seems to be disappearing. The situation already had me considering the future, and I am referring to perhaps late last year. Now? There is no mold release and the shit has taken a set. If the tumblers are not ideally aligned, the situation will worsen. When they do align, there is a process at work which breaks my heart to pieces. I need help and none is available. Marvelous. At least being alone is now a part of the site and not just life. That’s a plus. Friday. I don’t need to drive today. The next drive will probably be Sunday, and that’s the quickest, smoothest day of the week to be on the freeway or in the City. I am usually back home by eight or so (unless there is a stopover at the market), so upon taking off in the first place, I already know that a bit of patience will help me remain calm during the trip. Very good. As for today, everything has been simplified. I already have part of the routine out of the way and a decent plan for other improvements prior to lunch time. Oh, Jamie... Please come hold me for a little while. She’s right over there on the display, sans makeup and looking more beautiful than one person should be allowed. Even when she wears a shitty expression or sadness all over her face, the woman sends me flying into the clouds every time. Just fucking HOLD ME AND TELL ME EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. PLEASE... FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST. Now that such an idea is out of my system (for the moment), I need to focus upon whatever I can do to remain both comfortable and productive today. We go. The hour is later and I have my usual stuff out of the way, plus I did a bit of reorganization in the shed and moved one of the mattresses out there. The twin box spring will be easier, although the queen mattress is going to require help if I am to protect my back. Once all three are relocated, I can focus upon the spare bedroom. At some point I need to visit the smoke shop up the road, and I may pop into the market on the return trip. Friday can be a toughie in the grocery store, but I have all the time in the world to do whatever the hell I wish. My cocktail is about two-thirds gone and I will not leave the house until the glass is empty. This is going to be a tough one. I can already feel the two shit situations preparing to send me off a cliff this morning, and I really don’t want that right now. Not ever, actually, yet I am fully aware of my powerless state versus such thinking (or memories). I am going to do my best to combat the crap until such time as I need to complete some housework. I’ve already finished half of the routine and the rest will be very quick. Hopefully, rather than falling into a pit of despair and depression, I can rise and continue my efforts in the shed and spare bedroom for the sole purpose of distracting myself from everything that is breaking my fucking heart. I just put on an album which typically kept me company over the wireless MDRs years ago; a Saturday morning ritual of laundry, coffee, and sitting right here at the old control center. I was up at five o’clock, often headed to the market if I needed coffee or cream, and then tossed the first load of clothes into the machine shortly thereafter. I was working full-time, so Saturdays and Sundays were precious. I’ve gone over the Sunday business and how I handled it way back then, but rarely have I mentioned Saturdays. Five o’clock in the morning... The wireless MDRs and housework straight out of the fucking gate. The process was very rewarding and comfortable. Everything is different now and I really don’t like it very much, although the fact that I don’t have to work comes to mind at some point every single day and I appreciate it. All of my days are quite similar regardless of whether or not I end up driving to the City. The morning is the only time for that, meaning every fucking day I have hours and hours to myself. Perhaps if finding motivation was a little easier, this house would be in much better shape right now. I work very slowly. Period. Anyway, the music still brings me back to the wonderful feelings I had during those weekends. The time always flew by, as well. I don’t know what is going to happen later today, but at least I’ll have half a snootful in order to deal with whichever way my head decides to go. My coffee is nearly gone. The album is still playing, but something inside my brain is not allowing me to find the same type of comfort or enjoyment as several years ago. Perhaps I’ve dropped too far for certain aspects of entertainment to lift me as they once did. That is sad, yet completely understandable. The missing pieces continue to drive me into the ground. The feelings are so bad, in fact, that I just went back to the other essay and added a short paragraph. Doing so is indicative of my ability to deal with day-to-day life anymore. This is not good. Despite any difficulty, I have responsibilities, hence the hour and my routine being out of the way. I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey to ease my head for a little while, too. The music of life is once again gracing the speakers in an effort to revisit those moments from years ago when I crafted the most poignant and angry essays imaginable. My little glass saw arrived yesterday. Maybe I can get out there and perform a few sample cuts for practice. I haven’t used a glass saw (the small circular type) for many years. In fact, the last time was during the glowing years when I was a glass fabricator at the plant in Fremont. Wait a minute... I did return to that place of work after moving back from the Midwest. That means somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety-six (the afterglow). Interesting. I’m certain the process will come back to me in good time. That tool will allow me to cut and install the side splash and window trim, finally. I’ve been putting that shit off for nearly five fucking years and am not happy about the passage of time. The bathroom remodel still weighs heavily on my mind even after all this time because I was so scared during the process. I’ve barely completed anything since last year. I am literally responsible for every single fucking mechanical, structural, electrical, or visual aspect of this entire property and sometimes the prospect of something going bad still scares the shit out of me. I have tons of experience, the Internet for help from time to time, yet there is almost always discomfort during any process. Hopefully, finishing the splash and trim will boost me a little bit. I could use some help these days if I am to avoid what seems to be inevitable. Maybe I’ll get drunk and just sit on the couch for the rest of the day. Why the hell not? My self-confidence is at an all-time fucking LOW. Believe it or not, that type of thing relates not only to working around the house, but connections I used to have. The opposite sex is almost NEVER attracted to a lack of confidence. Trust me, I know it all too well. It takes a very rare personality to handle such a condition. That means with each passing day I am less likely to find what I need. Ah, fuck it... Pointing out some aspects of me is pointless anymore. No one is there to hear my words and the likelihood of a person giving half a shit is for naught. Can you see how my topic sentences become lost? I couldn’t hold a straight fucking line to save my life. Marvelous. ‘One step up and two steps back’. Thanks, Bruce, and God bless you. I guess I’ll go stand in the garage and see if motivation or direction can be found. I am sick and tired of this wrestling match. Not much. Not fucking much at all. I tried a little bit but nothing in reality was pulling at my attention. Sunday morning is here – the drive was quick and very smooth – and I can’t for the life of me remember everything I did yesterday. Eh... Very little that is related to me matters in the grand scheme (if there IS a grand scheme), so whatever took place prior to right now is unimportant. That is not to say everything I do is unimportant, only that the little world I inhabit continues to shrink and affect very few individuals. I don’t remember what I did yesterday. Oh, I pruned the tree in the front yard again to keep growth off the lower limbs and trunk. That looks unsightly, plus I have to keep after the growth as the upper limbs develop in order to maintain a good, thin shape. Once the upper sections are thicker and more defined, I can thin them and ensure the windward side of the tree is healthy and not susceptible to pressure from high winds. Other than that, I don’t really remember much. Today may be different because of the Sunday business and my need to have everything organized for the coming work week. I do that not only for the continued operation of this household, but also for my own peace of mind. I have a deep-seated need to maintain order earlier rather than later on Sundays due to all those years of treating the hours as very rare and special. I felt it every weekend, and as I already stated, the feelings during these two days had to be cherished. I still do the same thing, although Monday morning rolling around helps me to realize that if the weekend hours go sideways somehow, I still have the weekdays to recover and plan for the following weekend. I’ll take care of business today, like always, and then relax with a rewarding lunch for a little while. There is nothing specific calling to me this morning. I guess I’ll go with the clock and see how I feel coming out the other side of the morning. I pushed out the door a touch earlier than usual. Arriving back home prior to eight felt very nice, and it means my routine can begin early as well. I always finish everything in good time. Today should be no different. Not real The shit is creeping into my psyche. I recall no dreams, though. This is probably nothing more than the two shit situations rearing their ugly heads like during most mornings. I haven’t seen that girl for several days, and the last few sightings were very quick and did not hurt as much as some of the more elaborate views of her form. This is both good and bad, the former occurring primarily because I miss her sometimes. Thankfully, my heart has not become involved in the situation. Only her physical appearance slams me upside the head. Anyway, I took a break in the garage and saw that my efforts on the garbage front should be minimal today. I reverted to a program I haven’t seen in years for two reasons: First, the stream and playback are flawless due to being on a different site than the gangsters, and second, I already know of the story so I can multitask without missing anything. Whenever I decide to intently watch a series or movie, I usually sit in the living room to maximize the audio and picture quality. There are several issues inherent in this show, not the least of which is Julie Benz and her otherworldly level of cuteness. I can deal with all of it, though, because I’ve been through the series more than once. One huge plus is that I fucking LOVE David Zayas and the brilliant portrayal of his character. Awesome. The last cup of coffee is here on the table; the time for the routine is close. Jesus fuck is Julie ever cute. She is almost as cute as the other one. The, um, problem which was exacerbated by the damaging dreams more than two years ago. I want to see her again, but I also don’t. Whatever the case, the pain will not leave. I’m going to hurt anyway, so I may as well gaze upon her amazing body and enjoy the sight. 1048, and I point that out because there is no reason to avoid the time. Maybe it will help later if I am searching for a situation or feeling I’ve recorded on a specific day. LaGuerta just asked why a person would keep a severed head in the front seat of a car. In response, Dexter mused, ‘Maybe to use the carpool lane’. This show is fucking hilarious at times. Anyway, my routine is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage business. What does this mean? Cocktail time. Very nice. Jennifer Carpenter has got one hell of a pair of chiclets. Damn. Super cute. Monday morning has arrived without fanfare for the common webmaster (read: ‘webastard’). This is going to be a very mellow day after an evening of difficulty. No, not the usual shit related to beauty – although last night I saw a woman in a new show that hit me upside the head pretty fucking hard – but something physical that had me quite concerned for a little while. I’m going to take it easy aside from the very simple daily routine. I took care of plenty yesterday and will be glad to care for myself rather than stuff around the house. I need a bit of time. As for the woman on the screen last night, the sight was unusual for that medium. Most of the time, when others I’ve known comment on the female form or I hear references to the same from any other source, the fact is people do not seem to see the proportions in the same fashion as myself. I don’t understand the attraction to ‘larger’ or far more ‘curvy’ body types, although I need not comprehend someone else’s ‘thing’. Beauty is subjective, and that is the understatement of the universe. When I say she was unusual, I mean her lines were on display, and as such, does not fit into the category which is seemingly widely held. Not for me. I need to see the lines because the very definition of those parts of the female anatomy is unique, as it creates a symmetrical frame that can often defy logic. Convergence; divergence. And then? One more time. And then? The inward, upper curves come to rest in such a way so as to make my head explode. The actors, models, or other famous people on the television who carry ‘larger’ thigh dimensions have nothing on display, nor can they provide the numbers that have defined my entire life for decades. Well, last night on the screen, she stood square to the camera’s perspective and showed off everything over which I have obsessed for longer than I care to admit. I was immediately fascinated, enamored and needed to be close enough to see all those lines as clearly as possible. This is one of the biggest problems in living from day to day. As for this morning, I don’t want to end up feeling like I did yesterday at this time, and in order to come out the other side without creating another fucking disastrous situation, I need to get that girl’s legs and lines the hell out of my brain. The fact that I grabbed a still image from the video is not helping. Eh... This is what I’ve become... A pathetic, desperate ball of unclear thinking and deviant needs. I suppose seeing her and capturing the beauty of her standing there was inevitable. It has happened before and will happen again, sure as hell. And? Speaking of happening again, this morning has been good and horrible, a la disaster. I went to the market – no issues there – and returned to work on the daily routine. Everything has been completed and I put all the stuff away which is good. Prior to the market, however, the woman from last night combined with all the other existing shit in my head got the best of me and I fell on my face. Splendid. Earlier I mentioned that the shit was creeping into my brain. Well, that’s that. I fucking hate this condition, yet I know there is nothing I can do about it. The rest of this day is not going to amount to much. Lunch; the rest of my cocktail; very little else. I just don’t care. Moreover, last night there was some issue with my midsection that had me at sixes and sevens for a little while, and that means today I can take it easy and just think about everything for some hours. Yes, I will probably return to the new show again – likely with a nice lunch – and that will add to the problem by showing me that fucking girl again. Seeing her standing by that fence caused instant fucking physical desire, the likes of which I rarely feel so quickly. Only on a handful of occasions have I been slammed so harshly with that level of need. I don’t like it. All this crap adds up to me needing to relax for the rest of the day. Ugh. I can’t look at the screen until this scene is over. I have a deep-seated fear that will flare and leave me worse off than I already am today. Don’t ask. There have been plenty of examples, too, both in reality and on television. Ah... It’s over. That’s not something I need to see right now and can honestly be worse than the beauty I already pointed out. Trust me, such a statement is saying a lot considering the sheer power over me held by the female form, not to mention the emotional aspects that cripple me all too often. I’m going to rant about the girl on the show for quite some time because she is so slender. That is unusual for such a popular role. Just believe it. I don’t understand why society’s perception has changed so dramatically throughout the past decade or more. I simply don’t get it. And yes, mine has become skewed in the opposite direction. Maybe I see rarities where others do not. Whatever. She is amazing, and if I continue watching the series, my head is going to record much more, none of which will be good for me. Tuesday, 0838. Like yesterday, my time is wide-open and I need not visit the market. I have to get this fucking cable tray installed at long last. Once I get into it, the situation will be akin to when I was working and we had a difficult road ahead in shutting off the domestic water at a job. We planned, moved all of the tools, material and equipment into place, and then simply cut the water line. Once that took place, we had no choice but to finish so the water could be turned on once again. I have to shut this machine down, move the table, and then disconnect a bunch of cabling. The system will be in pieces, meaning I’ll have no choice, just like the water. I have to take that first step. Perhaps later this morning I will get into the project. The daily routine will not take very long. I’ll have lots of time for whatever, so long as I can find the motivation to accomplish anything beyond the norm. That’s tough sometimes. There is just too much weighing on my mind each day. 1030, straight down. I took the initiative and ‘cut the cord’ from this system as soon as I finished the previous paragraph. Rewiring everything was a bit of a chore, but now all is good. The cabling is all neat and orderly, adding or subtracting to it will be much easier, and there is nothing behind the table that reaches the floor. That means cleaning can be a breeze now. I also took care of the daily routine and poured myself a fat cocktail. And for whatever reason, my program has not been cutting out or otherwise glitching this morning. Maybe they fixed something. I figured since I am sixty-eight episodes into the story, I may as well finish it so long as the stream doesn’t get all crazy again. Plus, I get to see sixth season Jamie, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Well, you know. Goo-ga and all that shit. God damn do I ever love her. Anyway, from here forward I have no idea of what I will accomplish. The cable tray was a big deal that I’ve been putting off for a couple of weeks. Now that it’s finished, I can proceed on other fronts if I can find more motivation. The booze is going to make me lazy if I’m not careful, but the truth is most days I just don’t fucking care. My head needs to relax during the morning and nothing else works as well. Whatever that makes me, well... You know. Nurse (impatient): ‘One family member at a time, please.’ Jamie: ‘She’s a ballbuster.’ Normally I don’t like those types of references because too often society will reduce a male’s entire existence down to only that part of their anatomy, much like the way women are often regarded by males in a similar fashion, but that was fucking funny. And now Fiona is on the screen. Her part is tiny – just two minutes or so – yet after years of watching the scene, I’ve grown to greatly appreciate her face and demeanor. She is amazing. For such a short-lived role, the woman exudes a massive amount of caring and concern. Fiona slams my heart every fucking time, much like Felicia (Lisa) during a single episode of the second season. She understood much like Andrea and Ashley. Too bad none of this shit is real. As for the ‘ballbuster’ shot, I just love the way Jamie utters those words with an expression of defiance on her lovely face. I wish I could hug her for a month. Or maybe a calendar year. The desperate need inside me continues to grow. Not real Maybe that limousine will show up and I’ll see Fiona and Felicia step out with the aforementioned briefcase to solve all my problems. Or maybe today is bad enough to force the very damaging ‘second cocktail’ just after lunch. I’ll do my best to avoid it, but sometimes my ability to rise is squashed by the past. Wednesday morning is here and some of the previous crap has been removed from my mind. The feeling of several free hours ahead is helping, plus I drove to the City early this morning and returned without incident. Arriving home is always very nice and today is no different. I had a bit of trouble yesterday afternoon during a scene on the program I’ve been following. That was the second significant occasion, the others being lessened by unreasonable cinematography. She was exiting a pool via the typical ladder, and the framing of the shot displayed more than enough of her lines to send me into a tailspin. I’ll be capturing her unique form very soon. She is quite thin, and reminds me of my words from the 1236 era when I suggested that the obsession was in learning when the numbers could be pushed enough to turn the subject into an enigma or begin to render her unattractive. The girl on the show is the former, for sure. I need to stare. As for today, I’ll be into the usual routine when my coffee is gone, and then work on whatever is appealing. I don’t want to end up in the same shape as yesterday. That was bad. I avoided the second drink, though, because my head was already far enough down without adding fuel to the fire. At least I am intelligent enough to know what will cause too much damage. Better than nothing. 1028. The routine has been completed. The uphill battle shall commence just after lunch. Right now I don’t feel like doing anything, to be honest, so perhaps once I finish eating in a little while I should pop up and head in some productive direction. The more time that passes, the less I understand people’s motivation for self-gain and acceptance by others whom they may not even like. I don’t get it. I’ve done plenty of reading on specific topics and learned that I am not alone in feeling this way, just in the minority. I’ve heard others’ opinions here and there – some of which were completely aligned with my own, believe it or not – yet all remain far away, causing me to believe that there is no one for me anymore. Moreover, my sensitivity has been increasing throughout the last few years. I am now very fearful of the slightest reference, especially given the general public’s reactions to such topics. No one seems to care. If they do, the coverup is amazing. I am completely safe watching whatever video media I choose because I spend so much time alone. Besides, I almost never watch anything having to do with reality because – for the tenth time – I don’t fucking understand other people. I am no longer interested in being a part of some social structure, and that means cutting off as much of the real world and society as I am able. As I said, the passage of time has altered everything, including me. I am not going to sit here and claim that I haven’t changed because it’s bullshit. I can’t state how other people have moved along through time, although I have little doubt they can be in the same boat... Different thanks to external influence and the calendar flipping along. I am vastly different than two decades ago. Worse in many ways; slightly wiser in precious few. The main problem here is that I continue to analyze everything. I can’t help it. The time is now 0847 and I had a visit from my buddy – the contractor – the same one who designed and constructed the concrete pad back in April. I’m looking forward to the next project and his visit because those kinds of things help distract me from all the other shit. Sixth season Jamie is going to drive me into the ground this morning. Damn. I am all over the place today. I need to find a single direction, and soon. God damn... I feel more for her all the time. This is not healthy at all. The playback is beginning to glitch again, so maybe I should save myself and switch to something else. Eh... It’s time to move away from the control system for a little while and take care of some business. 1103. I went to the market for a few items and saw a stunning, slender and very tall beauty near the checkout lanes. Wow. She reminded me of the Jaime that I manufactured by way of digital images. Remember that one? I do. The downside (upside?) was that her coat precluded my ability to see the tops of her things, meaning her lines were only partially on display. That may have allowed me to concentrate upon the shopping rather than daydreaming about everything I can’t have (or see, which is painful). Once I returned from the store, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, fat White Russian, which is delicious. I won’t be doing anything else until the drink is consumed. Doing so will relax my head enough to consider other directions today. The only rub is due to switching programs on the right-hand display. Now I have to see Julie, Jennifer and whomever else might appear during this show. Julie is so cute that I can barely understand how her face could have been created in such a fucked up world. Ugh. Anyway, I don’t know whether the rest of the day will turn to shit or if I’ll find the motivation to be more productive. Whatever the case, the clock will continue to spin out of control and render me worthless at some point, be it sooner or later. Julie’s character is about to demonstrate something of which I’ve been dreaming for many years, God bless her adorable mannerisms. Watching it play out is pushing me to disregard everything today. Splendid. I don’t need any more reminders of the mindset of a certain girl from many years ago, nor do I need to be reminded of the fact that she is most decidedly GONE FOREVER, as is the way she considered certain situations inherent in life. I’m all over the place today. Friday is here regardless of my feelings for Thursday. Ugh. One of the scenes in which Jamie looks nearly as beautiful as she can is on the display right now. I may have to begin capitalizing any pronouns that represent the love of my life. No matter how much I’ve gushed about her, nothing can ever be enough to convey the feelings in my heart and thoughts in my head. Nothing. I’ll keep trying due to being overly compelled, but I already know the words will fail. Marvelous. I love her so much that seeing her big eyes causes acute pain throughout my being. I just... Love her. And yes, I realize how bad this situation has become. I need to go to the big wine store today to pick up an order. That trip may also include a stopover at the little market for a couple of items if I decide to make pasta this evening. I can always use dried herbs and spices and then simply simmer the sauce for a couple of hours if the market doesn’t seem like a good idea. No big deal. A bit of sauteed onion and garlic can make a big difference. Other than the wine store and my usual crap, there is nothing on the schedule. Yesterday turned out to be a huge downer and I’d like to come out at the other end of this day in better shape. Doing so has not been easy lately, however. The inside of my head runs through permutations of the past and I find myself lost all too often. Last night, for example, while watching an episode of the second show as I prepared dinner, my head went back in time and felt the powerful significance of both the era when it first aired and how one of the characters related to a part of my life dating even further back. The latter was during the glow, and if I recall correctly, right in the middle of that wondrous period. There were so many good things happening at that time that I wouldn’t even know where to start. During a weekday when something brings me back to better days, I lose my ability to think clearly and end up doing absolutely nothing. Not good. Some of the questionable behavior I exhibited in later years was nothing more than a set of pathetic, forceful moments as I attempted to recreate past feelings. I spoke of this shit four years ago and not long after I stopped working full-time. At present, being reminded of the glow and certain other periods from the past causes me to lose my way much more quickly than it did years ago. And now there is Benny’s adorable wife with her big, dark eyes, flowing mane and plump, round breasts looking so gorgeous that I can’t understand the power involved in creating that kind of woman. He was having an affair with another woman during the sixth season, and even after twenty years of watching this series, I still can’t understand why. His wife is so fucking beautiful and sweet. Hmm... Maybe he became bored with her over time. Sad, but it happens. I’d volunteer to care for her and make her feel like the stunning, wondrous creature that she is, but she is not real, just like all the others. I have all these feelings and nowhere to express them. What I wouldn’t give... Shit. I lost my way through the previous paragraph. Big fucking surprise. Anyway, the last of the coffee is here next to me, meaning I’ll have to head to the wine store soon and get that shit out of the way today. I have no expectations of understanding or clarity. The keyboard pays no mind. 1122. Everything I usually do this time of day is finished. I picked up the order at the wine store and stopped at the hardware for a couple of items. Ugh... There was a reminder of what Julie did with her adorable smiling face. Damn. I didn’t need to be exposed to that shit again. Anyway, I have my requisite cocktail here on the table and hours ahead to do whatever I want. I see that my neighbor rolled one of his bikes onto the driveway. He’s probably heading over the bridge or to some club event. It’s nice to see people I care about living life to the fullest. I don’t do that at all. I barely live. And another fucking slap to my psyche... I just saw her again and wish I hadn’t. Jesus fucking Christ on a rubber crutch. She was the subject of the damaging dreams, the first being a slow-motion image of manicured fingers gently tugging at a black bra strap. That caused her right breast to bounce slightly, the wonder of which I cannot get out of my head no matter the day or circumstances. Maybe I should head to the backyard and repeatedly slam my head against the concrete. Unbelievable. She is a vision beyond description. As I said... The damaging dreams took their toll two years ago and continue to render me fucking worthless and constantly questioning my entire life. After not seeing her for weeks, I became accustomed to nothing of note passing by my window. Now everything has returned. Marvelous. Just what I fucking needed. ‘Take that off. Now take the other one off and put the first one back on. Bless you.’ Suicide. Plain and simple. Do you see another way out of this condition? Not real 1234 is on the clock at this very moment. The time reminds me of that amazing day many years ago... 12:34:56 pm on 7/8/90. Do you remember that one? All the numbers were lined up in order. The sequence also appeared twelve hours earlier on the same day, although most of the recognition was during daylight. That was really cool, both due to the numbers appearing in a row for one second and because it occurred during the glowing years. 1234567890. Interesting. In the space of typing those words, the moment disappeared. I still see her... Out there looking amazing... My brain melting due to the sight... The knowledge that my life has already run its course. This is very sad, yet not surprising. The longer I live, the more I will drown myself in memories of the past, and the further from reality I will venture. My shows will help as much as they can, the lack of needing to work each day will assist me in dealing with day-to-day life and watching others go about the things that bring them joy, but the underlying truth is I am already aware of the destination at the end of this morbid path. I will continue to do things as I see fit, and then one day I will be dead. And... Here I sit on a Saturday morning after the usual drive to the City. I have coffee and one of the auxiliary programs since the gangsters are again glitching. Well, not them, but the stream. I still don’t understand the cause of that crap, so the solution is to switch to something else for a while. At least I get to see the adorable Julie. Being home after driving is very nice, and the route was very smooth today. I have plans that will hopefully help me to forget yesterday’s massive pit into which I fell just after lunch. I really don’t enjoy feeling that way and must push to avoid a repeat. As I’ve said on many occasions, the little improvements may be on tap today rather than trying to tackle larger concerns. I see that my neighbor is once again heading out on his motorcycle. Good for him... Living life. I am doing the opposite, although such a fact has very little to do with anyone that is still living. I’ve slid downward quite a bit throughout the past four years and really don’t see any other way to live each day. I need the little enjoyments, none of which are good for me. I also need to see certain things; also very unhealthy. After all this time, my days are pretty well set in stone. Something pretty cataclysmic would have to take place in order for me to make any real changes. Today is day twenty-five. Figure it out. Day one was just after the shed was built, yet the number has nothing to do with that project. Good luck, and keep in mind that today is actually another version of ‘day three’. ‘Keyboard not found. Press F1 to continue...’ Heh. That brings me back to the afterglow when my buddy and I struggled to make DOS work properly for games. We had so much trouble much of the time that there were days when I nearly gave up. The last of the coffee, as I always say around this time of each morning. I’ll get to the very simple daily routine very soon. For the time being, I need to keep the house as quiet as possible because I am not alone. Someone is sleeping, along with both cats. I don’t mind the quiet. It’s actually how I prefer the house every day; quiet. My brain requires time and space to operate in any decent fashion. Anyway, yesterday I began reconfiguring the toolbox and removing anything not classified as ‘tools’. That box has a way of filling with errant items whenever I feel like clearing the bench and tabletop, and then later I start to think that some of that crap is not needed at all and I’ve been storing it for years simply due to ‘always doing things the same’. Well, I’ve cut the cord on lots of stuff in recent months, and the toolbox is important to me since my set continues to grow. Having the proper tools for any job or project is very important to me these days. I’ll probably move that process along later today. I’d like to cut the shelves for the shed, too, but I haven’t been very motivated. The brackets are here, so all I need to do is slice some plywood and get them mounted above one of the shelving units. The shelves will hold some lightweight items in order to store heavier crap below. The shed must remain free of clutter and unnecessary shit so everything out there remains accessible. Jennifer has a nice ass. Just a thought. As for the housework and whatnot, my coffee will be gone very soon and I’ll get out of the office. The entire site is still offline because I don’t want anyone reading my words for a while. How long? I don’t know, nor do I care. I even went so far as to disable directory browsing in order to avoid any imperial entanglements. That means I don’t want anyone accessing files, ever. The process was kind of a pain in the ass, honestly, but a few workarounds did the job. The site is mostly secure, and if my concern increases, there is the option of garbling the directories or simply removing files of note. I have lots of options when it comes to writing, the most secure of which is to cease working in the cloud and using the laptop for local work without connecting to the Internet. I really don’t want to go that far, but if pushed, I will push back. That is that. As of this moment, the most likely scenario is to await the end of the hosting plan and allow it to expire without a renewal. I see no reason to allow people to read this shit. Few actually care, and those who do cannot help. 1132. My usual stuff is done and I have a nice fat cocktail here on the table. I also made my famous dip this morning so it can normalize overnight. That’s usually a football snack, but I am unwilling to wait. Overnight is best since the spices are all dried. The dip will be delicious tomorrow and beyond. The house is still quiet, so I won’t be doing much for a little while. As of now, the feeling is to continue moving a few things into the shed and take updated measurements for the shelves. They will meet in one corner and supplement the units already residing in that wonderful space. Once complete, there will be more organization so that I have easy access to consumables. Sunday. Will today be any different than all the rest? I mean, other than my typical Sunday business? No. Today will be no different. The program from last night caused a massive problem that is still swirling in my head and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it. The housework will have to suffice, I guess. And no, the problem was not a ‘form’. Not even close. Quite the reverse, actually, but I am not going to explain anything. There is no longer any point in trying to address such a topic. After all these years, I was finally hit in the face with the sad realization that my words are worthless when it comes to the ears of other people. The last four years have seen enormous, sweeping changes in the perceptions of the past and other historic ‘situations’ as related to certain people, mostly different nationalities. All of them are failing due to one simple fact that circumvents any intention, and that is the fact that no matter what people say or do about anyone different from themselves, there is no way to change the way they think. Oh, they will demonstrate tolerance, acceptance, or whatever, but underneath it all is still the same person. That is why society is going nowhere and never will. Along such lines, I cannot alter another person’s stance regardless of facts or effort. Period. There is just no fucking way around it. I have tried for years and am now fucking sick and tired of the entire affair. I’ve had it. I shall remain alone in my beliefs and permanently shut out everyone else. No darkened doorsteps; no understanding, yet again. I will have to fully embrace anything with the power to distract me from unsolvable problems. I took the drive this morning a bit earlier than usual and was overjoyed to arrive back home. Now the entire day is up to me. I’ll have the routine and some garbage business to care for, and then perhaps I can move a few more items into the shed. I’ve been putting off the shelves because nothing has appeared appealing lately. Only the most straightforward shit has been done in recent days. 1027. What does that mean? Cocktail time. I completed the daily routine despite needing to keep the house quiet. I was not willing to wait because I knew once I finished the usual stuff, the booze could flow like a two-bit whore. Now I can relax for a while and sip. I purchased two more old combination wrenches to further my set – mostly to get it back to the way it was prior to moving to the coast – and am now awaiting a total of seven wrenches to arrive in the mail sometime during the next week or so. I can’t stand a set of wrenches or sockets that sits incomplete. I used to have all sorts of stuff, but left much of it behind (other than the tools which belonged to my dad) after moving because it was the right thing to do. My intention is to gather tools and equipment until the entire box is properly outfitted for any contingencies. I’ve always been a ‘tool person’ and I believe my dad’s early career and involvement in auto racing are the reasons. Well, whatever the case, I like to be prepared for anything. And speaking of being prepared, last night was the switch from the second series to the fifth, meaning the order is correct this time. Ninety-eight episodes later, I’ll change to the first show again. I have recorded the start date and time of each series here in the cloud because I am a basket case. As for today, I’ll probably relax here for a little while and then start the rest of my work. There is a portion of my brain that is very mellow right now, the reason being that I won’t have to drive to the City again until next Sunday. That is fucking nice. I prefer being home, as if that hasn’t been obvious up to this point. Other than some sort of road trip or enticing vacation away from here, I need to remain holed up on this property for the duration. This is my whole world – in reality – and despite such a fact, I have two alternate realities inside my head, one of which comes to mind when I go to bed at night. The procedure is very special and has never been revealed to another human being regardless of the fact that I’ve been doing the same thing on and off for four decades. I may broach the topic in a later entry. This is day twenty-seven and I have little motivation to reveal something so deeply personal and important. I only mentioned it because last night I considered the idea of exploring that little world further, and using the keyboard in addition to my mind. We shall see if the idea comes to light at a later date. Oh, and when I say ‘procedure’, I am referring to a process that takes place in my brain, nothing more. Don’t get your shit in a twist. I am not sure about the rest of the day outside my garbage business and putting away the clean dishes. The situation from last night – that crappy reference from the television series – is weighing upon my head like a pile of lead-shit, and I have to find a way to alleviate the anger and related emotions if I am to be productive in any way. This has happened before, although in the past I simply ignored everything and waited for it to fade into the background of my days. The shit was just last night, too. I will have to find some determination if I am going to rise again and find a way to deal with what has become yet another uncomfortable reminder of shit situation number one. End of line." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Day Thirteen Mature content No. 415 Published June 23rd, 2024 11:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Nothing much going on here this morning. The usual; coffee, my program, and a nice view out the window. Not bad. I’ve already felt the morning difficulty and there is nothing I can do about it, and all this shit prior to nine on the clock. Splendid. Where is my savior? Or the other one? Or that girl from that one time? Her eyes? Her help? How about that girl who tried to save me from myself and what I had become? No one is there, although Jamie and her unbelievable eyes are on the right-hand display at the moment. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I guess that ‘thing’ which came about some years ago is not in my future. No repeat. No understanding. No nothing. I could slap Carmela’s mother right now. This is day fourteen. Good luck calculating that shit. Anyway, I am very unhappy this morning and will have to push pretty fucking hard to make it through to the afternoon without further issue. I have to go to the market soon. Hopefully, I will not see anything damaging. For some reason, there is an image in my head this morning which I can’t define, nor am I aware of its genesis. Part of me is thinking that it may have to do with the woman I named Jaime four years ago. No, not Jamie, who is over there on the display, but the other one – the fictional woman that I manufactured and subsequently loved. I wish I could learn why that form is in my head today. A couple hours later and I find myself right back here staring at Jamie’s fucking eyes again. Big surprise. I finished the routine and visited the market for a few items. The laundry is running, too. Typical day? For the most part. My watch arrived from the UK and it is everything I remembered. I sold mine some years ago for whatever reason and then decided that was a huge mistake. The cool part is I paid quite a sum for it the first time and did not lose money when it was sold. This one? Two hundred dollars cheaper due to being used, yet it hardly has any marks anywhere; mostly just the clasp, and that is typical for a wristwatch that’s been worn. This is the third watch I’ve purchased this year. That means nothing more until next year. I’m creating a collection again, a little at a time and much more selective. I can’t fucking help it, either. Tuesday is here and I don’t know what it means. One day disappears, the next one arrives, and the only difference I see is the actual name. Adriana is wearing that bra again; the one that seems to have two straps from the top of each cup. The appearance is really cool. Anyway, today will be a lot like yesterday except for the trip to the market. I don’t need to go anywhere. THere are a few things I passed on yesterday, meaning I need to take care of them today, and before lunch would be best. I lost my way again yesterday as predicted. I don’t want to have anything left to do in case it happens again. The morning was very sad and turned into a fucking disaster, and I don’t need any more of that shit, either. I am already plenty upset over a questionable vision of Jaime and then thinking about the passage of time and how my future options have become limited due to the same. The situation yesterday morning is pressing me to withdraw into a fantasy world of just her and the other places, leaving reality for other people. I can alter this office to follow suit. The morning is difficult in one way and easier than the afternoon in other ways, yet I have not been able to truly push my way through those feelings. All I’ve done is forced myself to do work. Not the same. I need to get the early business finished so I can return here and enjoy the quiet as much as possible. We go... And... Done. Now what? Perhaps I should point out that I’ve been accused of saying the same things over and over using different words at times, and to be completely honest, I cannot disagree. Part of the reason is my difficulty in being here without answers to some very important questions, another part being due to having been squished, routed or otherwise left on the side of the fucking road for years. So yes, I am going to continue to analyze and type words regardless of whether or not I am getting anywhere. I own the place, but before degrading into a tirade related to the fact that ‘this is all mine’, I must point out that the alternative is not good and will only create more questions, both for those reading and myself. I am compelled to continue. The same words? Yep... That’s going to occur regardless of my feelings. I only know so many words. The site content has not advanced much in many years. Well, other than some scripts and other doodads I’ve added to make navigation and coding easier, that is. The things I’ve said here are not likely to change anytime soon. Routing; squishing; having been disregarded by just the right people... These are the voyages of the starship ‘go fuck yaself’. And the site, too. Do it. The last of the coffee. I’ve typed those words 36 times throughout the past four years. That is a clear indication that my head is lost in the morning. Coffee? Gone. Routine? Done. Cocktail? Right here on the table, like always. I have ideas for how to proceed with my day, but time will tell if any of them actually come to fruition. I’m planning a lighter lunch than yesterday, so maybe I won’t end up all weighed down by food. I’ll be weighed down by other things, for sure. The only weight over which I have control is what I decide to eat each day. The rest is beyond my abilities thus far. Much of the state is baking in a short heatwave, but here, a half mile from the ocean, there is low-hanging fog blowing over the roofs of the houses. I commented last night that despite some people experiencing difficulties due to the heat, each day when I walk out to the garage I need to put on a sweatshirt. That’s interesting. One range of hills keeps the temperatures separate. Eight minutes up the road the mercury can be in the mid eighties, while right here it sits around the mid sixties. I waited a very long time to live on the coast and it is everything for which I had hoped. I must keep the positives in mind. Ugh... There is Jamie again. What the fuck is wrong with me? Never mind. Anyway, the rest of the day could be good or bad and the whole shitaree is entirely up to me. Wednesday? Yeah... Wednesday. Coffee. Same shit as yesterday. Everything is the same, except I am sitting here roughly half an hour earlier because of the schedule. Tuesday disappeared like all the rest. I finished the canopy over the smaller mural and wired everything, so that is good. The project has been irritating me a little bit. A few more odds and ends will have my garage in decent condition. I didn’t really work in the shed yesterday, though. I need shelf brackets and I have to think about swapping the dresser for the mattresses prior to moving anything. I’d like to keep that space as neat as possible. That should not be a problem for someone like me. The last of the coffee just appeared on my table. Nice. Afterward, I’ll have to take care of a few items that have been sitting idle. The usual stuff will be first on the list, and then some other direction will take up the rest of my morning. I assembled the cable tray but it’s still sitting here on the table awaiting installation. Perhaps that should take priority over the smaller chores. There is plenty of time. And now there is Jamie with a big, bright smile causing my heart to flutter all over the fucking place. The weather is the same as yesterday. My outlook is the same, too. Nothing changes unless I make it happen, and in order to do that I need to care. Right now I barely give a shit about anything except the minimum. I will try to focus upon the necessities and the office today. Try. That’s all I have. My head is half sideways right now. The rest of the morning will be a difficult uphill battle, like many other mornings. I don’t have any options when it comes to fixing such a condition. At least I have a huge bottle of painkillers and plenty of alcohol. Combined, they almost help. Let’s get some housework done, shall we? Better. I have my fatass cocktail and I’ve finished the morning routine. As for the cable tray, I believe it will have to wait until other concerns are addressed. The focus should be the house itself, not the control center or anything trivial. All of my toys and other projects must wait. I ordered a wet saw – the type I used way back when working at the glass plant – in order to finish the trim on the bathroom window and cut the side splash so it can be installed. And yes, the bathroom was supposed to be finished nearly five years ago, but I’m slow. I’ve been trying to do better for two reasons. First, the feeling of accomplishment still helps me get through my days, and second, little tasks keep me from falling off the edge of the world much of the time. Believe me, if anything can keep my head from going sideways, I’ll embrace it. I think the motivation I’m experiencing this morning has been driven primarily from a standpoint of survival. Improving the house is always good, and if I can benefit in other ways at the same time, all the better. I’ll ride the wave for as long as it carries me. The inside of my head has been swamped with feelings of desire for that girl – the damaging dreams are responsible – and I simply MUST do something to distract myself. Sadness is one thing; physical desire is an entirely different problem. I’ve seen too much, I remember too much, and I don’t see anything positive on the horizon. No darkened doorstep; no limousine and briefcase; no otherworldly connections. I want her so bad that sometimes I can’t fucking do anything but sit here and sip my whiskey. The painkillers have accomplished their goal. Unfortunately, they can’t eliminate desire. Not real The title is ‘day fourteen’. Well, today is day sixteen. Do you know what that means? No, you don’t. Keep trying. I have never included anything so cryptic as this series of entries. Good fucking luck. Thursday, post-drive and shopping at the big business store. The drive was a touch tedious due to weekday commute traffic, but nothing serious. The store was a breeze, like most visits. Upon returning, I ordered sandwiches for later. Sometimes it’s nice to go outside the norm a little bit to have something different for a change. Anyway, I am still sipping coffee after ten in the morning and have yet to take care of the typical routine. I’ll get to it soon. Something is very wrong and I can’t seem to understand why. The hour is later and everything is finished. This is good because the inside of my head is not well to say the least. Very bad, this shit. Very fucking bad. I am only alive for about three reasons, and one of them seems to be disappearing. The situation already had me considering the future, and I am referring to perhaps late last year. Now? There is no mold release and the shit has taken a set. If the tumblers are not ideally aligned, the situation will worsen. When they do align, there is a process at work which breaks my heart to pieces. I need help and none is available. Marvelous. At least being alone is now a part of the site and not just life. That’s a plus. Friday. I don’t need to drive today. The next drive will probably be Sunday, and that’s the quickest, smoothest day of the week to be on the freeway or in the City. I am usually back home by eight or so (unless there is a stopover at the market), so upon taking off in the first place, I already know that a bit of patience will help me remain calm during the trip. Very good. As for today, everything has been simplified. I already have part of the routine out of the way and a decent plan for other improvements prior to lunch time. Oh, Jamie... Please come hold me for a little while. She’s right over there on the display, sans makeup and looking more beautiful than one person should be allowed. Even when she wears a shitty expression or sadness all over her face, the woman sends me flying into the clouds every time. Just fucking HOLD ME AND TELL ME EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. PLEASE... FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST. Now that such an idea is out of my system (for the moment), I need to focus upon whatever I can do to remain both comfortable and productive today. We go. The hour is later and I have my usual stuff out of the way, plus I did a bit of reorganization in the shed and moved one of the mattresses out there. The twin box spring will be easier, although the queen mattress is going to require help if I am to protect my back. Once all three are relocated, I can focus upon the spare bedroom. At some point I need to visit the smoke shop up the road, and I may pop into the market on the return trip. Friday can be a toughie in the grocery store, but I have all the time in the world to do whatever the hell I wish. My cocktail is about two-thirds gone and I will not leave the house until the glass is empty. This is going to be a tough one. I can already feel the two shit situations preparing to send me off a cliff this morning, and I really don’t want that right now. Not ever, actually, yet I am fully aware of my powerless state versus such thinking (or memories). I am going to do my best to combat the crap until such time as I need to complete some housework. I’ve already finished half of the routine and the rest will be very quick. Hopefully, rather than falling into a pit of despair and depression, I can rise and continue my efforts in the shed and spare bedroom for the sole purpose of distracting myself from everything that is breaking my fucking heart. I just put on an album which typically kept me company over the wireless MDRs years ago; a Saturday morning ritual of laundry, coffee, and sitting right here at the old control center. I was up at five o’clock, often headed to the market if I needed coffee or cream, and then tossed the first load of clothes into the machine shortly thereafter. I was working full-time, so Saturdays and Sundays were precious. I’ve gone over the Sunday business and how I handled it way back then, but rarely have I mentioned Saturdays. Five o’clock in the morning... The wireless MDRs and housework straight out of the fucking gate. The process was very rewarding and comfortable. Everything is different now and I really don’t like it very much, although the fact that I don’t have to work comes to mind at some point every single day and I appreciate it. All of my days are quite similar regardless of whether or not I end up driving to the City. The morning is the only time for that, meaning every fucking day I have hours and hours to myself. Perhaps if finding motivation was a little easier, this house would be in much better shape right now. I work very slowly. Period. Anyway, the music still brings me back to the wonderful feelings I had during those weekends. The time always flew by, as well. I don’t know what is going to happen later today, but at least I’ll have half a snootful in order to deal with whichever way my head decides to go. My coffee is nearly gone. The album is still playing, but something inside my brain is not allowing me to find the same type of comfort or enjoyment as several years ago. Perhaps I’ve dropped too far for certain aspects of entertainment to lift me as they once did. That is sad, yet completely understandable. The missing pieces continue to drive me into the ground. The feelings are so bad, in fact, that I just went back to the other essay and added a short paragraph. Doing so is indicative of my ability to deal with day-to-day life anymore. This is not good. Despite any difficulty, I have responsibilities, hence the hour and my routine being out of the way. I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey to ease my head for a little while, too. The music of life is once again gracing the speakers in an effort to revisit those moments from years ago when I crafted the most poignant and angry essays imaginable. My little glass saw arrived yesterday. Maybe I can get out there and perform a few sample cuts for practice. I haven’t used a glass saw (the small circular type) for many years. In fact, the last time was during the glowing years when I was a glass fabricator at the plant in Fremont. Wait a minute... I did return to that place of work after moving back from the Midwest. That means somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety-six (the afterglow). Interesting. I’m certain the process will come back to me in good time. That tool will allow me to cut and install the side splash and window trim, finally. I’ve been putting that shit off for nearly five fucking years and am not happy about the passage of time. The bathroom remodel still weighs heavily on my mind even after all this time because I was so scared during the process. I’ve barely completed anything since last year. I am literally responsible for every single fucking mechanical, structural, electrical, or visual aspect of this entire property and sometimes the prospect of something going bad still scares the shit out of me. I have tons of experience, the Internet for help from time to time, yet there is almost always discomfort during any process. Hopefully, finishing the splash and trim will boost me a little bit. I could use some help these days if I am to avoid what seems to be inevitable. Maybe I’ll get drunk and just sit on the couch for the rest of the day. Why the hell not? My self-confidence is at an all-time fucking LOW. Believe it or not, that type of thing relates not only to working around the house, but connections I used to have. The opposite sex is almost NEVER attracted to a lack of confidence. Trust me, I know it all too well. It takes a very rare personality to handle such a condition. That means with each passing day I am less likely to find what I need. Ah, fuck it... Pointing out some aspects of me is pointless anymore. No one is there to hear my words and the likelihood of a person giving half a shit is for naught. Can you see how my topic sentences become lost? I couldn’t hold a straight fucking line to save my life. Marvelous. ‘One step up and two steps back’. Thanks, Bruce, and God bless you. I guess I’ll go stand in the garage and see if motivation or direction can be found. I am sick and tired of this wrestling match. Not much. Not fucking much at all. I tried a little bit but nothing in reality was pulling at my attention. Sunday morning is here – the drive was quick and very smooth – and I can’t for the life of me remember everything I did yesterday. Eh... Very little that is related to me matters in the grand scheme (if there IS a grand scheme), so whatever took place prior to right now is unimportant. That is not to say everything I do is unimportant, only that the little world I inhabit continues to shrink and affect very few individuals. I don’t remember what I did yesterday. Oh, I pruned the tree in the front yard again to keep growth off the lower limbs and trunk. That looks unsightly, plus I have to keep after the growth as the upper limbs develop in order to maintain a good, thin shape. Once the upper sections are thicker and more defined, I can thin them and ensure the windward side of the tree is healthy and not susceptible to pressure from high winds. Other than that, I don’t really remember much. Today may be different because of the Sunday business and my need to have everything organized for the coming work week. I do that not only for the continued operation of this household, but also for my own peace of mind. I have a deep-seated need to maintain order earlier rather than later on Sundays due to all those years of treating the hours as very rare and special. I felt it every weekend, and as I already stated, the feelings during these two days had to be cherished. I still do the same thing, although Monday morning rolling around helps me to realize that if the weekend hours go sideways somehow, I still have the weekdays to recover and plan for the following weekend. I’ll take care of business today, like always, and then relax with a rewarding lunch for a little while. There is nothing specific calling to me this morning. I guess I’ll go with the clock and see how I feel coming out the other side of the morning. I pushed out the door a touch earlier than usual. Arriving back home prior to eight felt very nice, and it means my routine can begin early as well. I always finish everything in good time. Today should be no different. Not real The shit is creeping into my psyche. I recall no dreams, though. This is probably nothing more than the two shit situations rearing their ugly heads like during most mornings. I haven’t seen that girl for several days, and the last few sightings were very quick and did not hurt as much as some of the more elaborate views of her form. This is both good and bad, the former occurring primarily because I miss her sometimes. Thankfully, my heart has not become involved in the situation. Only her physical appearance slams me upside the head. Anyway, I took a break in the garage and saw that my efforts on the garbage front should be minimal today. I reverted to a program I haven’t seen in years for two reasons: First, the stream and playback are flawless due to being on a different site than the gangsters, and second, I already know of the story so I can multitask without missing anything. Whenever I decide to intently watch a series or movie, I usually sit in the living room to maximize the audio and picture quality. There are several issues inherent in this show, not the least of which is Julie Benz and her otherworldly level of cuteness. I can deal with all of it, though, because I’ve been through the series more than once. One huge plus is that I fucking LOVE David Zayas and the brilliant portrayal of his character. Awesome. The last cup of coffee is here on the table; the time for the routine is close. Jesus fuck is Julie ever cute. She is almost as cute as the other one. The, um, problem which was exacerbated by the damaging dreams more than two years ago. I want to see her again, but I also don’t. Whatever the case, the pain will not leave. I’m going to hurt anyway, so I may as well gaze upon her amazing body and enjoy the sight. 1048, and I point that out because there is no reason to avoid the time. Maybe it will help later if I am searching for a situation or feeling I’ve recorded on a specific day. LaGuerta just asked why a person would keep a severed head in the front seat of a car. In response, Dexter mused, ‘Maybe to use the carpool lane’. This show is fucking hilarious at times. Anyway, my routine is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage business. What does this mean? Cocktail time. Very nice. Jennifer Carpenter has got one hell of a pair of chiclets. Damn. Super cute. Monday morning has arrived without fanfare for the common webmaster (read: ‘webastard’). This is going to be a very mellow day after an evening of difficulty. No, not the usual shit related to beauty – although last night I saw a woman in a new show that hit me upside the head pretty fucking hard – but something physical that had me quite concerned for a little while. I’m going to take it easy aside from the very simple daily routine. I took care of plenty yesterday and will be glad to care for myself rather than stuff around the house. I need a bit of time. As for the woman on the screen last night, the sight was unusual for that medium. Most of the time, when others I’ve known comment on the female form or I hear references to the same from any other source, the fact is people do not seem to see the proportions in the same fashion as myself. I don’t understand the attraction to ‘larger’ or far more ‘curvy’ body types, although I need not comprehend someone else’s ‘thing’. Beauty is subjective, and that is the understatement of the universe. When I say she was unusual, I mean her lines were on display, and as such, does not fit into the category which is seemingly widely held. Not for me. I need to see the lines because the very definition of those parts of the female anatomy is unique, as it creates a symmetrical frame that can often defy logic. Convergence; divergence. And then? One more time. And then? The inward, upper curves come to rest in such a way so as to make my head explode. The actors, models, or other famous people on the television who carry ‘larger’ thigh dimensions have nothing on display, nor can they provide the numbers that have defined my entire life for decades. Well, last night on the screen, she stood square to the camera’s perspective and showed off everything over which I have obsessed for longer than I care to admit. I was immediately fascinated, enamored and needed to be close enough to see all those lines as clearly as possible. This is one of the biggest problems in living from day to day. As for this morning, I don’t want to end up feeling like I did yesterday at this time, and in order to come out the other side without creating another fucking disastrous situation, I need to get that girl’s legs and lines the hell out of my brain. The fact that I grabbed a still image from the video is not helping. Eh... This is what I’ve become... A pathetic, desperate ball of unclear thinking and deviant needs. I suppose seeing her and capturing the beauty of her standing there was inevitable. It has happened before and will happen again, sure as hell. And? Speaking of happening again, this morning has been good and horrible, a la disaster. I went to the market – no issues there – and returned to work on the daily routine. Everything has been completed and I put all the stuff away which is good. Prior to the market, however, the woman from last night combined with all the other existing shit in my head got the best of me and I fell on my face. Splendid. Earlier I mentioned that the shit was creeping into my brain. Well, that’s that. I fucking hate this condition, yet I know there is nothing I can do about it. The rest of this day is not going to amount to much. Lunch; the rest of my cocktail; very little else. I just don’t care. Moreover, last night there was some issue with my midsection that had me at sixes and sevens for a little while, and that means today I can take it easy and just think about everything for some hours. Yes, I will probably return to the new show again – likely with a nice lunch – and that will add to the problem by showing me that fucking girl again. Seeing her standing by that fence caused instant fucking physical desire, the likes of which I rarely feel so quickly. Only on a handful of occasions have I been slammed so harshly with that level of need. I don’t like it. All this crap adds up to me needing to relax for the rest of the day. Ugh. I can’t look at the screen until this scene is over. I have a deep-seated fear that will flare and leave me worse off than I already am today. Don’t ask. There have been plenty of examples, too, both in reality and on television. Ah... It’s over. That’s not something I need to see right now and can honestly be worse than the beauty I already pointed out. Trust me, such a statement is saying a lot considering the sheer power over me held by the female form, not to mention the emotional aspects that cripple me all too often. I’m going to rant about the girl on the show for quite some time because she is so slender. That is unusual for such a popular role. Just believe it. I don’t understand why society’s perception has changed so dramatically throughout the past decade or more. I simply don’t get it. And yes, mine has become skewed in the opposite direction. Maybe I see rarities where others do not. Whatever. She is amazing, and if I continue watching the series, my head is going to record much more, none of which will be good for me. Tuesday, 0838. Like yesterday, my time is wide-open and I need not visit the market. I have to get this fucking cable tray installed at long last. Once I get into it, the situation will be akin to when I was working and we had a difficult road ahead in shutting off the domestic water at a job. We planned, moved all of the tools, material and equipment into place, and then simply cut the water line. Once that took place, we had no choice but to finish so the water could be turned on once again. I have to shut this machine down, move the table, and then disconnect a bunch of cabling. The system will be in pieces, meaning I’ll have no choice, just like the water. I have to take that first step. Perhaps later this morning I will get into the project. The daily routine will not take very long. I’ll have lots of time for whatever, so long as I can find the motivation to accomplish anything beyond the norm. That’s tough sometimes. There is just too much weighing on my mind each day. 1030, straight down. I took the initiative and ‘cut the cord’ from this system as soon as I finished the previous paragraph. Rewiring everything was a bit of a chore, but now all is good. The cabling is all neat and orderly, adding or subtracting to it will be much easier, and there is nothing behind the table that reaches the floor. That means cleaning can be a breeze now. I also took care of the daily routine and poured myself a fat cocktail. And for whatever reason, my program has not been cutting out or otherwise glitching this morning. Maybe they fixed something. I figured since I am sixty-eight episodes into the story, I may as well finish it so long as the stream doesn’t get all crazy again. Plus, I get to see sixth season Jamie, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Well, you know. Goo-ga and all that shit. God damn do I ever love her. Anyway, from here forward I have no idea of what I will accomplish. The cable tray was a big deal that I’ve been putting off for a couple of weeks. Now that it’s finished, I can proceed on other fronts if I can find more motivation. The booze is going to make me lazy if I’m not careful, but the truth is most days I just don’t fucking care. My head needs to relax during the morning and nothing else works as well. Whatever that makes me, well... You know. Nurse (impatient): ‘One family member at a time, please.’ Jamie: ‘She’s a ballbuster.’ Normally I don’t like those types of references because too often society will reduce a male’s entire existence down to only that part of their anatomy, much like the way women are often regarded by males in a similar fashion, but that was fucking funny. And now Fiona is on the screen. Her part is tiny – just two minutes or so – yet after years of watching the scene, I’ve grown to greatly appreciate her face and demeanor. She is amazing. For such a short-lived role, the woman exudes a massive amount of caring and concern. Fiona slams my heart every fucking time, much like Felicia (Lisa) during a single episode of the second season. She understood much like Andrea and Ashley. Too bad none of this shit is real. As for the ‘ballbuster’ shot, I just love the way Jamie utters those words with an expression of defiance on her lovely face. I wish I could hug her for a month. Or maybe a calendar year. The desperate need inside me continues to grow. Not real Maybe that limousine will show up and I’ll see Fiona and Felicia step out with the aforementioned briefcase to solve all my problems. Or maybe today is bad enough to force the very damaging ‘second cocktail’ just after lunch. I’ll do my best to avoid it, but sometimes my ability to rise is squashed by the past. Wednesday morning is here and some of the previous crap has been removed from my mind. The feeling of several free hours ahead is helping, plus I drove to the City early this morning and returned without incident. Arriving home is always very nice and today is no different. I had a bit of trouble yesterday afternoon during a scene on the program I’ve been following. That was the second significant occasion, the others being lessened by unreasonable cinematography. She was exiting a pool via the typical ladder, and the framing of the shot displayed more than enough of her lines to send me into a tailspin. I’ll be capturing her unique form very soon. She is quite thin, and reminds me of my words from the 1236 era when I suggested that the obsession was in learning when the numbers could be pushed enough to turn the subject into an enigma or begin to render her unattractive. The girl on the show is the former, for sure. I need to stare. As for today, I’ll be into the usual routine when my coffee is gone, and then work on whatever is appealing. I don’t want to end up in the same shape as yesterday. That was bad. I avoided the second drink, though, because my head was already far enough down without adding fuel to the fire. At least I am intelligent enough to know what will cause too much damage. Better than nothing. 1028. The routine has been completed. The uphill battle shall commence just after lunch. Right now I don’t feel like doing anything, to be honest, so perhaps once I finish eating in a little while I should pop up and head in some productive direction. The more time that passes, the less I understand people’s motivation for self-gain and acceptance by others whom they may not even like. I don’t get it. I’ve done plenty of reading on specific topics and learned that I am not alone in feeling this way, just in the minority. I’ve heard others’ opinions here and there – some of which were completely aligned with my own, believe it or not – yet all remain far away, causing me to believe that there is no one for me anymore. Moreover, my sensitivity has been increasing throughout the last few years. I am now very fearful of the slightest reference, especially given the general public’s reactions to such topics. No one seems to care. If they do, the coverup is amazing. I am completely safe watching whatever video media I choose because I spend so much time alone. Besides, I almost never watch anything having to do with reality because – for the tenth time – I don’t fucking understand other people. I am no longer interested in being a part of some social structure, and that means cutting off as much of the real world and society as I am able. As I said, the passage of time has altered everything, including me. I am not going to sit here and claim that I haven’t changed because it’s bullshit. I can’t state how other people have moved along through time, although I have little doubt they can be in the same boat... Different thanks to external influence and the calendar flipping along. I am vastly different than two decades ago. Worse in many ways; slightly wiser in precious few. The main problem here is that I continue to analyze everything. I can’t help it. The time is now 0847 and I had a visit from my buddy – the contractor – the same one who designed and constructed the concrete pad back in April. I’m looking forward to the next project and his visit because those kinds of things help distract me from all the other shit. Sixth season Jamie is going to drive me into the ground this morning. Damn. I am all over the place today. I need to find a single direction, and soon. God damn... I feel more for her all the time. This is not healthy at all. The playback is beginning to glitch again, so maybe I should save myself and switch to something else. Eh... It’s time to move away from the control system for a little while and take care of some business. 1103. I went to the market for a few items and saw a stunning, slender and very tall beauty near the checkout lanes. Wow. She reminded me of the Jaime that I manufactured by way of digital images. Remember that one? I do. The downside (upside?) was that her coat precluded my ability to see the tops of her things, meaning her lines were only partially on display. That may have allowed me to concentrate upon the shopping rather than daydreaming about everything I can’t have (or see, which is painful). Once I returned from the store, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, fat White Russian, which is delicious. I won’t be doing anything else until the drink is consumed. Doing so will relax my head enough to consider other directions today. The only rub is due to switching programs on the right-hand display. Now I have to see Julie, Jennifer and whomever else might appear during this show. Julie is so cute that I can barely understand how her face could have been created in such a fucked up world. Ugh. Anyway, I don’t know whether the rest of the day will turn to shit or if I’ll find the motivation to be more productive. Whatever the case, the clock will continue to spin out of control and render me worthless at some point, be it sooner or later. Julie’s character is about to demonstrate something of which I’ve been dreaming for many years, God bless her adorable mannerisms. Watching it play out is pushing me to disregard everything today. Splendid. I don’t need any more reminders of the mindset of a certain girl from many years ago, nor do I need to be reminded of the fact that she is most decidedly GONE FOREVER, as is the way she considered certain situations inherent in life. I’m all over the place today. Friday is here regardless of my feelings for Thursday. Ugh. One of the scenes in which Jamie looks nearly as beautiful as she can is on the display right now. I may have to begin capitalizing any pronouns that represent the love of my life. No matter how much I’ve gushed about her, nothing can ever be enough to convey the feelings in my heart and thoughts in my head. Nothing. I’ll keep trying due to being overly compelled, but I already know the words will fail. Marvelous. I love her so much that seeing her big eyes causes acute pain throughout my being. I just... Love her. And yes, I realize how bad this situation has become. I need to go to the big wine store today to pick up an order. That trip may also include a stopover at the little market for a couple of items if I decide to make pasta this evening. I can always use dried herbs and spices and then simply simmer the sauce for a couple of hours if the market doesn’t seem like a good idea. No big deal. A bit of sauteed onion and garlic can make a big difference. Other than the wine store and my usual crap, there is nothing on the schedule. Yesterday turned out to be a huge downer and I’d like to come out at the other end of this day in better shape. Doing so has not been easy lately, however. The inside of my head runs through permutations of the past and I find myself lost all too often. Last night, for example, while watching an episode of the second show as I prepared dinner, my head went back in time and felt the powerful significance of both the era when it first aired and how one of the characters related to a part of my life dating even further back. The latter was during the glow, and if I recall correctly, right in the middle of that wondrous period. There were so many good things happening at that time that I wouldn’t even know where to start. During a weekday when something brings me back to better days, I lose my ability to think clearly and end up doing absolutely nothing. Not good. Some of the questionable behavior I exhibited in later years was nothing more than a set of pathetic, forceful moments as I attempted to recreate past feelings. I spoke of this shit four years ago and not long after I stopped working full-time. At present, being reminded of the glow and certain other periods from the past causes me to lose my way much more quickly than it did years ago. And now there is Benny’s adorable wife with her big, dark eyes, flowing mane and plump, round breasts looking so gorgeous that I can’t understand the power involved in creating that kind of woman. He was having an affair with another woman during the sixth season, and even after twenty years of watching this series, I still can’t understand why. His wife is so fucking beautiful and sweet. Hmm... Maybe he became bored with her over time. Sad, but it happens. I’d volunteer to care for her and make her feel like the stunning, wondrous creature that she is, but she is not real, just like all the others. I have all these feelings and nowhere to express them. What I wouldn’t give... Shit. I lost my way through the previous paragraph. Big fucking surprise. Anyway, the last of the coffee is here next to me, meaning I’ll have to head to the wine store soon and get that shit out of the way today. I have no expectations of understanding or clarity. The keyboard pays no mind. 1122. Everything I usually do this time of day is finished. I picked up the order at the wine store and stopped at the hardware for a couple of items. Ugh... There was a reminder of what Julie did with her adorable smiling face. Damn. I didn’t need to be exposed to that shit again. Anyway, I have my requisite cocktail here on the table and hours ahead to do whatever I want. I see that my neighbor rolled one of his bikes onto the driveway. He’s probably heading over the bridge or to some club event. It’s nice to see people I care about living life to the fullest. I don’t do that at all. I barely live. And another fucking slap to my psyche... I just saw her again and wish I hadn’t. Jesus fucking Christ on a rubber crutch. She was the subject of the damaging dreams, the first being a slow-motion image of manicured fingers gently tugging at a black bra strap. That caused her right breast to bounce slightly, the wonder of which I cannot get out of my head no matter the day or circumstances. Maybe I should head to the backyard and repeatedly slam my head against the concrete. Unbelievable. She is a vision beyond description. As I said... The damaging dreams took their toll two years ago and continue to render me fucking worthless and constantly questioning my entire life. After not seeing her for weeks, I became accustomed to nothing of note passing by my window. Now everything has returned. Marvelous. Just what I fucking needed. ‘Take that off. Now take the other one off and put the first one back on. Bless you.’ Suicide. Plain and simple. Do you see another way out of this condition? Not real 1234 is on the clock at this very moment. The time reminds me of that amazing day many years ago... 12:34:56 pm on 7/8/90. Do you remember that one? All the numbers were lined up in order. The sequence also appeared twelve hours earlier on the same day, although most of the recognition was during daylight. That was really cool, both due to the numbers appearing in a row for one second and because it occurred during the glowing years. 1234567890. Interesting. In the space of typing those words, the moment disappeared. I still see her... Out there looking amazing... My brain melting due to the sight... The knowledge that my life has already run its course. This is very sad, yet not surprising. The longer I live, the more I will drown myself in memories of the past, and the further from reality I will venture. My shows will help as much as they can, the lack of needing to work each day will assist me in dealing with day-to-day life and watching others go about the things that bring them joy, but the underlying truth is I am already aware of the destination at the end of this morbid path. I will continue to do things as I see fit, and then one day I will be dead. And... Here I sit on a Saturday morning after the usual drive to the City. I have coffee and one of the auxiliary programs since the gangsters are again glitching. Well, not them, but the stream. I still don’t understand the cause of that crap, so the solution is to switch to something else for a while. At least I get to see the adorable Julie. Being home after driving is very nice, and the route was very smooth today. I have plans that will hopefully help me to forget yesterday’s massive pit into which I fell just after lunch. I really don’t enjoy feeling that way and must push to avoid a repeat. As I’ve said on many occasions, the little improvements may be on tap today rather than trying to tackle larger concerns. I see that my neighbor is once again heading out on his motorcycle. Good for him... Living life. I am doing the opposite, although such a fact has very little to do with anyone that is still living. I’ve slid downward quite a bit throughout the past four years and really don’t see any other way to live each day. I need the little enjoyments, none of which are good for me. I also need to see certain things; also very unhealthy. After all this time, my days are pretty well set in stone. Something pretty cataclysmic would have to take place in order for me to make any real changes. Today is day twenty-five. Figure it out. Day one was just after the shed was built, yet the number has nothing to do with that project. Good luck, and keep in mind that today is actually another version of ‘day three’. ‘Keyboard not found. Press F1 to continue...’ Heh. That brings me back to the afterglow when my buddy and I struggled to make DOS work properly for games. We had so much trouble much of the time that there were days when I nearly gave up. The last of the coffee, as I always say around this time of each morning. I’ll get to the very simple daily routine very soon. For the time being, I need to keep the house as quiet as possible because I am not alone. Someone is sleeping, along with both cats. I don’t mind the quiet. It’s actually how I prefer the house every day; quiet. My brain requires time and space to operate in any decent fashion. Anyway, yesterday I began reconfiguring the toolbox and removing anything not classified as ‘tools’. That box has a way of filling with errant items whenever I feel like clearing the bench and tabletop, and then later I start to think that some of that crap is not needed at all and I’ve been storing it for years simply due to ‘always doing things the same’. Well, I’ve cut the cord on lots of stuff in recent months, and the toolbox is important to me since my set continues to grow. Having the proper tools for any job or project is very important to me these days. I’ll probably move that process along later today. I’d like to cut the shelves for the shed, too, but I haven’t been very motivated. The brackets are here, so all I need to do is slice some plywood and get them mounted above one of the shelving units. The shelves will hold some lightweight items in order to store heavier crap below. The shed must remain free of clutter and unnecessary shit so everything out there remains accessible. Jennifer has a nice ass. Just a thought. As for the housework and whatnot, my coffee will be gone very soon and I’ll get out of the office. The entire site is still offline because I don’t want anyone reading my words for a while. How long? I don’t know, nor do I care. I even went so far as to disable directory browsing in order to avoid any imperial entanglements. That means I don’t want anyone accessing files, ever. The process was kind of a pain in the ass, honestly, but a few workarounds did the job. The site is mostly secure, and if my concern increases, there is the option of garbling the directories or simply removing files of note. I have lots of options when it comes to writing, the most secure of which is to cease working in the cloud and using the laptop for local work without connecting to the Internet. I really don’t want to go that far, but if pushed, I will push back. That is that. As of this moment, the most likely scenario is to await the end of the hosting plan and allow it to expire without a renewal. I see no reason to allow people to read this shit. Few actually care, and those who do cannot help. 1132. My usual stuff is done and I have a nice fat cocktail here on the table. I also made my famous dip this morning so it can normalize overnight. That’s usually a football snack, but I am unwilling to wait. Overnight is best since the spices are all dried. The dip will be delicious tomorrow and beyond. The house is still quiet, so I won’t be doing much for a little while. As of now, the feeling is to continue moving a few things into the shed and take updated measurements for the shelves. They will meet in one corner and supplement the units already residing in that wonderful space. Once complete, there will be more organization so that I have easy access to consumables. Sunday. Will today be any different than all the rest? I mean, other than my typical Sunday business? No. Today will be no different. The program from last night caused a massive problem that is still swirling in my head and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it. The housework will have to suffice, I guess. And no, the problem was not a ‘form’. Not even close. Quite the reverse, actually, but I am not going to explain anything. There is no longer any point in trying to address such a topic. After all these years, I was finally hit in the face with the sad realization that my words are worthless when it comes to the ears of other people. The last four years have seen enormous, sweeping changes in the perceptions of the past and other historic ‘situations’ as related to certain people, mostly different nationalities. All of them are failing due to one simple fact that circumvents any intention, and that is the fact that no matter what people say or do about anyone different from themselves, there is no way to change the way they think. Oh, they will demonstrate tolerance, acceptance, or whatever, but underneath it all is still the same person. That is why society is going nowhere and never will. Along such lines, I cannot alter another person’s stance regardless of facts or effort. Period. There is just no fucking way around it. I have tried for years and am now fucking sick and tired of the entire affair. I’ve had it. I shall remain alone in my beliefs and permanently shut out everyone else. No darkened doorsteps; no understanding, yet again. I will have to fully embrace anything with the power to distract me from unsolvable problems. I took the drive this morning a bit earlier than usual and was overjoyed to arrive back home. Now the entire day is up to me. I’ll have the routine and some garbage business to care for, and then perhaps I can move a few more items into the shed. I’ve been putting off the shelves because nothing has appeared appealing lately. Only the most straightforward shit has been done in recent days. 1027. What does that mean? Cocktail time. I completed the daily routine despite needing to keep the house quiet. I was not willing to wait because I knew once I finished the usual stuff, the booze could flow like a two-bit whore. Now I can relax for a while and sip. I purchased two more old combination wrenches to further my set – mostly to get it back to the way it was prior to moving to the coast – and am now awaiting a total of seven wrenches to arrive in the mail sometime during the next week or so. I can’t stand a set of wrenches or sockets that sits incomplete. I used to have all sorts of stuff, but left much of it behind (other than the tools which belonged to my dad) after moving because it was the right thing to do. My intention is to gather tools and equipment until the entire box is properly outfitted for any contingencies. I’ve always been a ‘tool person’ and I believe my dad’s early career and involvement in auto racing are the reasons. Well, whatever the case, I like to be prepared for anything. And speaking of being prepared, last night was the switch from the second series to the fifth, meaning the order is correct this time. Ninety-eight episodes later, I’ll change to the first show again. I have recorded the start date and time of each series here in the cloud because I am a basket case. As for today, I’ll probably relax here for a little while and then start the rest of my work. There is a portion of my brain that is very mellow right now, the reason being that I won’t have to drive to the City again until next Sunday. That is fucking nice. I prefer being home, as if that hasn’t been obvious up to this point. Other than some sort of road trip or enticing vacation away from here, I need to remain holed up on this property for the duration. This is my whole world – in reality – and despite such a fact, I have two alternate realities inside my head, one of which comes to mind when I go to bed at night. The procedure is very special and has never been revealed to another human being regardless of the fact that I’ve been doing the same thing on and off for four decades. I may broach the topic in a later entry. This is day twenty-seven and I have little motivation to reveal something so deeply personal and important. I only mentioned it because last night I considered the idea of exploring that little world further, and using the keyboard in addition to my mind. We shall see if the idea comes to light at a later date. Oh, and when I say ‘procedure’, I am referring to a process that takes place in my brain, nothing more. Don’t get your shit in a twist. I am not sure about the rest of the day outside my garbage business and putting away the clean dishes. The situation from last night – that crappy reference from the television series – is weighing upon my head like a pile of lead-shit, and I have to find a way to alleviate the anger and related emotions if I am to be productive in any way. This has happened before, although in the past I simply ignored everything and waited for it to fade into the background of my days. The shit was just last night, too. I will have to find some determination if I am going to rise again and find a way to deal with what has become yet another uncomfortable reminder of shit situation number one. End of line."
Day Thirteen
Mature content No. 415 Published June 23rd, 2024 11:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Nothing much going on here this morning. The usual; coffee, my program, and a nice view out the window. Not bad. I’ve already felt the morning difficulty and there is nothing I can do about it, and all this shit prior to nine on the clock. Splendid. Where is my savior? Or the other one? Or that girl from that one time? Her eyes? Her help? How about that girl who tried to save me from myself and what I had become? No one is there, although Jamie and her unbelievable eyes are on the right-hand display at the moment. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I guess that ‘thing’ which came about some years ago is not in my future. No repeat. No understanding. No nothing. I could slap Carmela’s mother right now. This is day fourteen. Good luck calculating that shit. Anyway, I am very unhappy this morning and will have to push pretty fucking hard to make it through to the afternoon without further issue. I have to go to the market soon. Hopefully, I will not see anything damaging. For some reason, there is an image in my head this morning which I can’t define, nor am I aware of its genesis. Part of me is thinking that it may have to do with the woman I named Jaime four years ago. No, not Jamie, who is over there on the display, but the other one – the fictional woman that I manufactured and subsequently loved. I wish I could learn why that form is in my head today. A couple hours later and I find myself right back here staring at Jamie’s fucking eyes again. Big surprise. I finished the routine and visited the market for a few items. The laundry is running, too. Typical day? For the most part. My watch arrived from the UK and it is everything I remembered. I sold mine some years ago for whatever reason and then decided that was a huge mistake. The cool part is I paid quite a sum for it the first time and did not lose money when it was sold. This one? Two hundred dollars cheaper due to being used, yet it hardly has any marks anywhere; mostly just the clasp, and that is typical for a wristwatch that’s been worn. This is the third watch I’ve purchased this year. That means nothing more until next year. I’m creating a collection again, a little at a time and much more selective. I can’t fucking help it, either. Tuesday is here and I don’t know what it means. One day disappears, the next one arrives, and the only difference I see is the actual name. Adriana is wearing that bra again; the one that seems to have two straps from the top of each cup. The appearance is really cool. Anyway, today will be a lot like yesterday except for the trip to the market. I don’t need to go anywhere. THere are a few things I passed on yesterday, meaning I need to take care of them today, and before lunch would be best. I lost my way again yesterday as predicted. I don’t want to have anything left to do in case it happens again. The morning was very sad and turned into a fucking disaster, and I don’t need any more of that shit, either. I am already plenty upset over a questionable vision of Jaime and then thinking about the passage of time and how my future options have become limited due to the same. The situation yesterday morning is pressing me to withdraw into a fantasy world of just her and the other places, leaving reality for other people. I can alter this office to follow suit. The morning is difficult in one way and easier than the afternoon in other ways, yet I have not been able to truly push my way through those feelings. All I’ve done is forced myself to do work. Not the same. I need to get the early business finished so I can return here and enjoy the quiet as much as possible. We go... And... Done. Now what? Perhaps I should point out that I’ve been accused of saying the same things over and over using different words at times, and to be completely honest, I cannot disagree. Part of the reason is my difficulty in being here without answers to some very important questions, another part being due to having been squished, routed or otherwise left on the side of the fucking road for years. So yes, I am going to continue to analyze and type words regardless of whether or not I am getting anywhere. I own the place, but before degrading into a tirade related to the fact that ‘this is all mine’, I must point out that the alternative is not good and will only create more questions, both for those reading and myself. I am compelled to continue. The same words? Yep... That’s going to occur regardless of my feelings. I only know so many words. The site content has not advanced much in many years. Well, other than some scripts and other doodads I’ve added to make navigation and coding easier, that is. The things I’ve said here are not likely to change anytime soon. Routing; squishing; having been disregarded by just the right people... These are the voyages of the starship ‘go fuck yaself’. And the site, too. Do it. The last of the coffee. I’ve typed those words 36 times throughout the past four years. That is a clear indication that my head is lost in the morning. Coffee? Gone. Routine? Done. Cocktail? Right here on the table, like always. I have ideas for how to proceed with my day, but time will tell if any of them actually come to fruition. I’m planning a lighter lunch than yesterday, so maybe I won’t end up all weighed down by food. I’ll be weighed down by other things, for sure. The only weight over which I have control is what I decide to eat each day. The rest is beyond my abilities thus far. Much of the state is baking in a short heatwave, but here, a half mile from the ocean, there is low-hanging fog blowing over the roofs of the houses. I commented last night that despite some people experiencing difficulties due to the heat, each day when I walk out to the garage I need to put on a sweatshirt. That’s interesting. One range of hills keeps the temperatures separate. Eight minutes up the road the mercury can be in the mid eighties, while right here it sits around the mid sixties. I waited a very long time to live on the coast and it is everything for which I had hoped. I must keep the positives in mind. Ugh... There is Jamie again. What the fuck is wrong with me? Never mind. Anyway, the rest of the day could be good or bad and the whole shitaree is entirely up to me. Wednesday? Yeah... Wednesday. Coffee. Same shit as yesterday. Everything is the same, except I am sitting here roughly half an hour earlier because of the schedule. Tuesday disappeared like all the rest. I finished the canopy over the smaller mural and wired everything, so that is good. The project has been irritating me a little bit. A few more odds and ends will have my garage in decent condition. I didn’t really work in the shed yesterday, though. I need shelf brackets and I have to think about swapping the dresser for the mattresses prior to moving anything. I’d like to keep that space as neat as possible. That should not be a problem for someone like me. The last of the coffee just appeared on my table. Nice. Afterward, I’ll have to take care of a few items that have been sitting idle. The usual stuff will be first on the list, and then some other direction will take up the rest of my morning. I assembled the cable tray but it’s still sitting here on the table awaiting installation. Perhaps that should take priority over the smaller chores. There is plenty of time. And now there is Jamie with a big, bright smile causing my heart to flutter all over the fucking place. The weather is the same as yesterday. My outlook is the same, too. Nothing changes unless I make it happen, and in order to do that I need to care. Right now I barely give a shit about anything except the minimum. I will try to focus upon the necessities and the office today. Try. That’s all I have. My head is half sideways right now. The rest of the morning will be a difficult uphill battle, like many other mornings. I don’t have any options when it comes to fixing such a condition. At least I have a huge bottle of painkillers and plenty of alcohol. Combined, they almost help. Let’s get some housework done, shall we? Better. I have my fatass cocktail and I’ve finished the morning routine. As for the cable tray, I believe it will have to wait until other concerns are addressed. The focus should be the house itself, not the control center or anything trivial. All of my toys and other projects must wait. I ordered a wet saw – the type I used way back when working at the glass plant – in order to finish the trim on the bathroom window and cut the side splash so it can be installed. And yes, the bathroom was supposed to be finished nearly five years ago, but I’m slow. I’ve been trying to do better for two reasons. First, the feeling of accomplishment still helps me get through my days, and second, little tasks keep me from falling off the edge of the world much of the time. Believe me, if anything can keep my head from going sideways, I’ll embrace it. I think the motivation I’m experiencing this morning has been driven primarily from a standpoint of survival. Improving the house is always good, and if I can benefit in other ways at the same time, all the better. I’ll ride the wave for as long as it carries me. The inside of my head has been swamped with feelings of desire for that girl – the damaging dreams are responsible – and I simply MUST do something to distract myself. Sadness is one thing; physical desire is an entirely different problem. I’ve seen too much, I remember too much, and I don’t see anything positive on the horizon. No darkened doorstep; no limousine and briefcase; no otherworldly connections. I want her so bad that sometimes I can’t fucking do anything but sit here and sip my whiskey. The painkillers have accomplished their goal. Unfortunately, they can’t eliminate desire.
Not real
The title is ‘day fourteen’. Well, today is day sixteen. Do you know what that means? No, you don’t. Keep trying. I have never included anything so cryptic as this series of entries. Good fucking luck. Thursday, post-drive and shopping at the big business store. The drive was a touch tedious due to weekday commute traffic, but nothing serious. The store was a breeze, like most visits. Upon returning, I ordered sandwiches for later. Sometimes it’s nice to go outside the norm a little bit to have something different for a change. Anyway, I am still sipping coffee after ten in the morning and have yet to take care of the typical routine. I’ll get to it soon. Something is very wrong and I can’t seem to understand why. The hour is later and everything is finished. This is good because the inside of my head is not well to say the least. Very bad, this shit. Very fucking bad. I am only alive for about three reasons, and one of them seems to be disappearing. The situation already had me considering the future, and I am referring to perhaps late last year. Now? There is no mold release and the shit has taken a set. If the tumblers are not ideally aligned, the situation will worsen. When they do align, there is a process at work which breaks my heart to pieces. I need help and none is available. Marvelous. At least being alone is now a part of the site and not just life. That’s a plus. Friday. I don’t need to drive today. The next drive will probably be Sunday, and that’s the quickest, smoothest day of the week to be on the freeway or in the City. I am usually back home by eight or so (unless there is a stopover at the market), so upon taking off in the first place, I already know that a bit of patience will help me remain calm during the trip. Very good. As for today, everything has been simplified. I already have part of the routine out of the way and a decent plan for other improvements prior to lunch time. Oh, Jamie... Please come hold me for a little while. She’s right over there on the display, sans makeup and looking more beautiful than one person should be allowed. Even when she wears a shitty expression or sadness all over her face, the woman sends me flying into the clouds every time. Just fucking HOLD ME AND TELL ME EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. PLEASE... FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST. Now that such an idea is out of my system (for the moment), I need to focus upon whatever I can do to remain both comfortable and productive today. We go. The hour is later and I have my usual stuff out of the way, plus I did a bit of reorganization in the shed and moved one of the mattresses out there. The twin box spring will be easier, although the queen mattress is going to require help if I am to protect my back. Once all three are relocated, I can focus upon the spare bedroom. At some point I need to visit the smoke shop up the road, and I may pop into the market on the return trip. Friday can be a toughie in the grocery store, but I have all the time in the world to do whatever the hell I wish. My cocktail is about two-thirds gone and I will not leave the house until the glass is empty. This is going to be a tough one. I can already feel the two shit situations preparing to send me off a cliff this morning, and I really don’t want that right now. Not ever, actually, yet I am fully aware of my powerless state versus such thinking (or memories). I am going to do my best to combat the crap until such time as I need to complete some housework. I’ve already finished half of the routine and the rest will be very quick. Hopefully, rather than falling into a pit of despair and depression, I can rise and continue my efforts in the shed and spare bedroom for the sole purpose of distracting myself from everything that is breaking my fucking heart. I just put on an album which typically kept me company over the wireless MDRs years ago; a Saturday morning ritual of laundry, coffee, and sitting right here at the old control center. I was up at five o’clock, often headed to the market if I needed coffee or cream, and then tossed the first load of clothes into the machine shortly thereafter. I was working full-time, so Saturdays and Sundays were precious. I’ve gone over the Sunday business and how I handled it way back then, but rarely have I mentioned Saturdays. Five o’clock in the morning... The wireless MDRs and housework straight out of the fucking gate. The process was very rewarding and comfortable. Everything is different now and I really don’t like it very much, although the fact that I don’t have to work comes to mind at some point every single day and I appreciate it. All of my days are quite similar regardless of whether or not I end up driving to the City. The morning is the only time for that, meaning every fucking day I have hours and hours to myself. Perhaps if finding motivation was a little easier, this house would be in much better shape right now. I work very slowly. Period. Anyway, the music still brings me back to the wonderful feelings I had during those weekends. The time always flew by, as well. I don’t know what is going to happen later today, but at least I’ll have half a snootful in order to deal with whichever way my head decides to go. My coffee is nearly gone. The album is still playing, but something inside my brain is not allowing me to find the same type of comfort or enjoyment as several years ago. Perhaps I’ve dropped too far for certain aspects of entertainment to lift me as they once did. That is sad, yet completely understandable. The missing pieces continue to drive me into the ground. The feelings are so bad, in fact, that I just went back to the other essay and added a short paragraph. Doing so is indicative of my ability to deal with day-to-day life anymore. This is not good. Despite any difficulty, I have responsibilities, hence the hour and my routine being out of the way. I have a nice, icy glass of whiskey to ease my head for a little while, too. The music of life is once again gracing the speakers in an effort to revisit those moments from years ago when I crafted the most poignant and angry essays imaginable. My little glass saw arrived yesterday. Maybe I can get out there and perform a few sample cuts for practice. I haven’t used a glass saw (the small circular type) for many years. In fact, the last time was during the glowing years when I was a glass fabricator at the plant in Fremont. Wait a minute... I did return to that place of work after moving back from the Midwest. That means somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety-six (the afterglow). Interesting. I’m certain the process will come back to me in good time. That tool will allow me to cut and install the side splash and window trim, finally. I’ve been putting that shit off for nearly five fucking years and am not happy about the passage of time. The bathroom remodel still weighs heavily on my mind even after all this time because I was so scared during the process. I’ve barely completed anything since last year. I am literally responsible for every single fucking mechanical, structural, electrical, or visual aspect of this entire property and sometimes the prospect of something going bad still scares the shit out of me. I have tons of experience, the Internet for help from time to time, yet there is almost always discomfort during any process. Hopefully, finishing the splash and trim will boost me a little bit. I could use some help these days if I am to avoid what seems to be inevitable. Maybe I’ll get drunk and just sit on the couch for the rest of the day. Why the hell not? My self-confidence is at an all-time fucking LOW. Believe it or not, that type of thing relates not only to working around the house, but connections I used to have. The opposite sex is almost NEVER attracted to a lack of confidence. Trust me, I know it all too well. It takes a very rare personality to handle such a condition. That means with each passing day I am less likely to find what I need. Ah, fuck it... Pointing out some aspects of me is pointless anymore. No one is there to hear my words and the likelihood of a person giving half a shit is for naught. Can you see how my topic sentences become lost? I couldn’t hold a straight fucking line to save my life. Marvelous. ‘One step up and two steps back’. Thanks, Bruce, and God bless you. I guess I’ll go stand in the garage and see if motivation or direction can be found. I am sick and tired of this wrestling match. Not much. Not fucking much at all. I tried a little bit but nothing in reality was pulling at my attention. Sunday morning is here – the drive was quick and very smooth – and I can’t for the life of me remember everything I did yesterday. Eh... Very little that is related to me matters in the grand scheme (if there IS a grand scheme), so whatever took place prior to right now is unimportant. That is not to say everything I do is unimportant, only that the little world I inhabit continues to shrink and affect very few individuals. I don’t remember what I did yesterday. Oh, I pruned the tree in the front yard again to keep growth off the lower limbs and trunk. That looks unsightly, plus I have to keep after the growth as the upper limbs develop in order to maintain a good, thin shape. Once the upper sections are thicker and more defined, I can thin them and ensure the windward side of the tree is healthy and not susceptible to pressure from high winds. Other than that, I don’t really remember much. Today may be different because of the Sunday business and my need to have everything organized for the coming work week. I do that not only for the continued operation of this household, but also for my own peace of mind. I have a deep-seated need to maintain order earlier rather than later on Sundays due to all those years of treating the hours as very rare and special. I felt it every weekend, and as I already stated, the feelings during these two days had to be cherished. I still do the same thing, although Monday morning rolling around helps me to realize that if the weekend hours go sideways somehow, I still have the weekdays to recover and plan for the following weekend. I’ll take care of business today, like always, and then relax with a rewarding lunch for a little while. There is nothing specific calling to me this morning. I guess I’ll go with the clock and see how I feel coming out the other side of the morning. I pushed out the door a touch earlier than usual. Arriving back home prior to eight felt very nice, and it means my routine can begin early as well. I always finish everything in good time. Today should be no different.
The shit is creeping into my psyche. I recall no dreams, though. This is probably nothing more than the two shit situations rearing their ugly heads like during most mornings. I haven’t seen that girl for several days, and the last few sightings were very quick and did not hurt as much as some of the more elaborate views of her form. This is both good and bad, the former occurring primarily because I miss her sometimes. Thankfully, my heart has not become involved in the situation. Only her physical appearance slams me upside the head. Anyway, I took a break in the garage and saw that my efforts on the garbage front should be minimal today. I reverted to a program I haven’t seen in years for two reasons: First, the stream and playback are flawless due to being on a different site than the gangsters, and second, I already know of the story so I can multitask without missing anything. Whenever I decide to intently watch a series or movie, I usually sit in the living room to maximize the audio and picture quality. There are several issues inherent in this show, not the least of which is Julie Benz and her otherworldly level of cuteness. I can deal with all of it, though, because I’ve been through the series more than once. One huge plus is that I fucking LOVE David Zayas and the brilliant portrayal of his character. Awesome. The last cup of coffee is here on the table; the time for the routine is close. Jesus fuck is Julie ever cute. She is almost as cute as the other one. The, um, problem which was exacerbated by the damaging dreams more than two years ago. I want to see her again, but I also don’t. Whatever the case, the pain will not leave. I’m going to hurt anyway, so I may as well gaze upon her amazing body and enjoy the sight. 1048, and I point that out because there is no reason to avoid the time. Maybe it will help later if I am searching for a situation or feeling I’ve recorded on a specific day. LaGuerta just asked why a person would keep a severed head in the front seat of a car. In response, Dexter mused, ‘Maybe to use the carpool lane’. This show is fucking hilarious at times. Anyway, my routine is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage business. What does this mean? Cocktail time. Very nice. Jennifer Carpenter has got one hell of a pair of chiclets. Damn. Super cute. Monday morning has arrived without fanfare for the common webmaster (read: ‘webastard’). This is going to be a very mellow day after an evening of difficulty. No, not the usual shit related to beauty – although last night I saw a woman in a new show that hit me upside the head pretty fucking hard – but something physical that had me quite concerned for a little while. I’m going to take it easy aside from the very simple daily routine. I took care of plenty yesterday and will be glad to care for myself rather than stuff around the house. I need a bit of time. As for the woman on the screen last night, the sight was unusual for that medium. Most of the time, when others I’ve known comment on the female form or I hear references to the same from any other source, the fact is people do not seem to see the proportions in the same fashion as myself. I don’t understand the attraction to ‘larger’ or far more ‘curvy’ body types, although I need not comprehend someone else’s ‘thing’. Beauty is subjective, and that is the understatement of the universe. When I say she was unusual, I mean her lines were on display, and as such, does not fit into the category which is seemingly widely held. Not for me. I need to see the lines because the very definition of those parts of the female anatomy is unique, as it creates a symmetrical frame that can often defy logic. Convergence; divergence. And then? One more time. And then? The inward, upper curves come to rest in such a way so as to make my head explode. The actors, models, or other famous people on the television who carry ‘larger’ thigh dimensions have nothing on display, nor can they provide the numbers that have defined my entire life for decades. Well, last night on the screen, she stood square to the camera’s perspective and showed off everything over which I have obsessed for longer than I care to admit. I was immediately fascinated, enamored and needed to be close enough to see all those lines as clearly as possible. This is one of the biggest problems in living from day to day. As for this morning, I don’t want to end up feeling like I did yesterday at this time, and in order to come out the other side without creating another fucking disastrous situation, I need to get that girl’s legs and lines the hell out of my brain. The fact that I grabbed a still image from the video is not helping. Eh... This is what I’ve become... A pathetic, desperate ball of unclear thinking and deviant needs. I suppose seeing her and capturing the beauty of her standing there was inevitable. It has happened before and will happen again, sure as hell. And? Speaking of happening again, this morning has been good and horrible, a la disaster. I went to the market – no issues there – and returned to work on the daily routine. Everything has been completed and I put all the stuff away which is good. Prior to the market, however, the woman from last night combined with all the other existing shit in my head got the best of me and I fell on my face. Splendid. Earlier I mentioned that the shit was creeping into my brain. Well, that’s that. I fucking hate this condition, yet I know there is nothing I can do about it. The rest of this day is not going to amount to much. Lunch; the rest of my cocktail; very little else. I just don’t care. Moreover, last night there was some issue with my midsection that had me at sixes and sevens for a little while, and that means today I can take it easy and just think about everything for some hours. Yes, I will probably return to the new show again – likely with a nice lunch – and that will add to the problem by showing me that fucking girl again. Seeing her standing by that fence caused instant fucking physical desire, the likes of which I rarely feel so quickly. Only on a handful of occasions have I been slammed so harshly with that level of need. I don’t like it. All this crap adds up to me needing to relax for the rest of the day. Ugh. I can’t look at the screen until this scene is over. I have a deep-seated fear that will flare and leave me worse off than I already am today. Don’t ask. There have been plenty of examples, too, both in reality and on television. Ah... It’s over. That’s not something I need to see right now and can honestly be worse than the beauty I already pointed out. Trust me, such a statement is saying a lot considering the sheer power over me held by the female form, not to mention the emotional aspects that cripple me all too often. I’m going to rant about the girl on the show for quite some time because she is so slender. That is unusual for such a popular role. Just believe it. I don’t understand why society’s perception has changed so dramatically throughout the past decade or more. I simply don’t get it. And yes, mine has become skewed in the opposite direction. Maybe I see rarities where others do not. Whatever. She is amazing, and if I continue watching the series, my head is going to record much more, none of which will be good for me. Tuesday, 0838. Like yesterday, my time is wide-open and I need not visit the market. I have to get this fucking cable tray installed at long last. Once I get into it, the situation will be akin to when I was working and we had a difficult road ahead in shutting off the domestic water at a job. We planned, moved all of the tools, material and equipment into place, and then simply cut the water line. Once that took place, we had no choice but to finish so the water could be turned on once again. I have to shut this machine down, move the table, and then disconnect a bunch of cabling. The system will be in pieces, meaning I’ll have no choice, just like the water. I have to take that first step. Perhaps later this morning I will get into the project. The daily routine will not take very long. I’ll have lots of time for whatever, so long as I can find the motivation to accomplish anything beyond the norm. That’s tough sometimes. There is just too much weighing on my mind each day. 1030, straight down. I took the initiative and ‘cut the cord’ from this system as soon as I finished the previous paragraph. Rewiring everything was a bit of a chore, but now all is good. The cabling is all neat and orderly, adding or subtracting to it will be much easier, and there is nothing behind the table that reaches the floor. That means cleaning can be a breeze now. I also took care of the daily routine and poured myself a fat cocktail. And for whatever reason, my program has not been cutting out or otherwise glitching this morning. Maybe they fixed something. I figured since I am sixty-eight episodes into the story, I may as well finish it so long as the stream doesn’t get all crazy again. Plus, I get to see sixth season Jamie, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Well, you know. Goo-ga and all that shit. God damn do I ever love her. Anyway, from here forward I have no idea of what I will accomplish. The cable tray was a big deal that I’ve been putting off for a couple of weeks. Now that it’s finished, I can proceed on other fronts if I can find more motivation. The booze is going to make me lazy if I’m not careful, but the truth is most days I just don’t fucking care. My head needs to relax during the morning and nothing else works as well. Whatever that makes me, well... You know. Nurse (impatient): ‘One family member at a time, please.’ Jamie: ‘She’s a ballbuster.’ Normally I don’t like those types of references because too often society will reduce a male’s entire existence down to only that part of their anatomy, much like the way women are often regarded by males in a similar fashion, but that was fucking funny. And now Fiona is on the screen. Her part is tiny – just two minutes or so – yet after years of watching the scene, I’ve grown to greatly appreciate her face and demeanor. She is amazing. For such a short-lived role, the woman exudes a massive amount of caring and concern. Fiona slams my heart every fucking time, much like Felicia (Lisa) during a single episode of the second season. She understood much like Andrea and Ashley. Too bad none of this shit is real. As for the ‘ballbuster’ shot, I just love the way Jamie utters those words with an expression of defiance on her lovely face. I wish I could hug her for a month. Or maybe a calendar year. The desperate need inside me continues to grow.
Maybe that limousine will show up and I’ll see Fiona and Felicia step out with the aforementioned briefcase to solve all my problems. Or maybe today is bad enough to force the very damaging ‘second cocktail’ just after lunch. I’ll do my best to avoid it, but sometimes my ability to rise is squashed by the past. Wednesday morning is here and some of the previous crap has been removed from my mind. The feeling of several free hours ahead is helping, plus I drove to the City early this morning and returned without incident. Arriving home is always very nice and today is no different. I had a bit of trouble yesterday afternoon during a scene on the program I’ve been following. That was the second significant occasion, the others being lessened by unreasonable cinematography. She was exiting a pool via the typical ladder, and the framing of the shot displayed more than enough of her lines to send me into a tailspin. I’ll be capturing her unique form very soon. She is quite thin, and reminds me of my words from the 1236 era when I suggested that the obsession was in learning when the numbers could be pushed enough to turn the subject into an enigma or begin to render her unattractive. The girl on the show is the former, for sure. I need to stare. As for today, I’ll be into the usual routine when my coffee is gone, and then work on whatever is appealing. I don’t want to end up in the same shape as yesterday. That was bad. I avoided the second drink, though, because my head was already far enough down without adding fuel to the fire. At least I am intelligent enough to know what will cause too much damage. Better than nothing. 1028. The routine has been completed. The uphill battle shall commence just after lunch. Right now I don’t feel like doing anything, to be honest, so perhaps once I finish eating in a little while I should pop up and head in some productive direction. The more time that passes, the less I understand people’s motivation for self-gain and acceptance by others whom they may not even like. I don’t get it. I’ve done plenty of reading on specific topics and learned that I am not alone in feeling this way, just in the minority. I’ve heard others’ opinions here and there – some of which were completely aligned with my own, believe it or not – yet all remain far away, causing me to believe that there is no one for me anymore. Moreover, my sensitivity has been increasing throughout the last few years. I am now very fearful of the slightest reference, especially given the general public’s reactions to such topics. No one seems to care. If they do, the coverup is amazing. I am completely safe watching whatever video media I choose because I spend so much time alone. Besides, I almost never watch anything having to do with reality because – for the tenth time – I don’t fucking understand other people. I am no longer interested in being a part of some social structure, and that means cutting off as much of the real world and society as I am able. As I said, the passage of time has altered everything, including me. I am not going to sit here and claim that I haven’t changed because it’s bullshit. I can’t state how other people have moved along through time, although I have little doubt they can be in the same boat... Different thanks to external influence and the calendar flipping along. I am vastly different than two decades ago. Worse in many ways; slightly wiser in precious few. The main problem here is that I continue to analyze everything. I can’t help it. The time is now 0847 and I had a visit from my buddy – the contractor – the same one who designed and constructed the concrete pad back in April. I’m looking forward to the next project and his visit because those kinds of things help distract me from all the other shit. Sixth season Jamie is going to drive me into the ground this morning. Damn. I am all over the place today. I need to find a single direction, and soon. God damn... I feel more for her all the time. This is not healthy at all. The playback is beginning to glitch again, so maybe I should save myself and switch to something else. Eh... It’s time to move away from the control system for a little while and take care of some business. 1103. I went to the market for a few items and saw a stunning, slender and very tall beauty near the checkout lanes. Wow. She reminded me of the Jaime that I manufactured by way of digital images. Remember that one? I do. The downside (upside?) was that her coat precluded my ability to see the tops of her things, meaning her lines were only partially on display. That may have allowed me to concentrate upon the shopping rather than daydreaming about everything I can’t have (or see, which is painful). Once I returned from the store, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, fat White Russian, which is delicious. I won’t be doing anything else until the drink is consumed. Doing so will relax my head enough to consider other directions today. The only rub is due to switching programs on the right-hand display. Now I have to see Julie, Jennifer and whomever else might appear during this show. Julie is so cute that I can barely understand how her face could have been created in such a fucked up world. Ugh. Anyway, I don’t know whether the rest of the day will turn to shit or if I’ll find the motivation to be more productive. Whatever the case, the clock will continue to spin out of control and render me worthless at some point, be it sooner or later. Julie’s character is about to demonstrate something of which I’ve been dreaming for many years, God bless her adorable mannerisms. Watching it play out is pushing me to disregard everything today. Splendid. I don’t need any more reminders of the mindset of a certain girl from many years ago, nor do I need to be reminded of the fact that she is most decidedly GONE FOREVER, as is the way she considered certain situations inherent in life. I’m all over the place today. Friday is here regardless of my feelings for Thursday. Ugh. One of the scenes in which Jamie looks nearly as beautiful as she can is on the display right now. I may have to begin capitalizing any pronouns that represent the love of my life. No matter how much I’ve gushed about her, nothing can ever be enough to convey the feelings in my heart and thoughts in my head. Nothing. I’ll keep trying due to being overly compelled, but I already know the words will fail. Marvelous. I love her so much that seeing her big eyes causes acute pain throughout my being. I just... Love her. And yes, I realize how bad this situation has become. I need to go to the big wine store today to pick up an order. That trip may also include a stopover at the little market for a couple of items if I decide to make pasta this evening. I can always use dried herbs and spices and then simply simmer the sauce for a couple of hours if the market doesn’t seem like a good idea. No big deal. A bit of sauteed onion and garlic can make a big difference. Other than the wine store and my usual crap, there is nothing on the schedule. Yesterday turned out to be a huge downer and I’d like to come out at the other end of this day in better shape. Doing so has not been easy lately, however. The inside of my head runs through permutations of the past and I find myself lost all too often. Last night, for example, while watching an episode of the second show as I prepared dinner, my head went back in time and felt the powerful significance of both the era when it first aired and how one of the characters related to a part of my life dating even further back. The latter was during the glow, and if I recall correctly, right in the middle of that wondrous period. There were so many good things happening at that time that I wouldn’t even know where to start. During a weekday when something brings me back to better days, I lose my ability to think clearly and end up doing absolutely nothing. Not good. Some of the questionable behavior I exhibited in later years was nothing more than a set of pathetic, forceful moments as I attempted to recreate past feelings. I spoke of this shit four years ago and not long after I stopped working full-time. At present, being reminded of the glow and certain other periods from the past causes me to lose my way much more quickly than it did years ago. And now there is Benny’s adorable wife with her big, dark eyes, flowing mane and plump, round breasts looking so gorgeous that I can’t understand the power involved in creating that kind of woman. He was having an affair with another woman during the sixth season, and even after twenty years of watching this series, I still can’t understand why. His wife is so fucking beautiful and sweet. Hmm... Maybe he became bored with her over time. Sad, but it happens. I’d volunteer to care for her and make her feel like the stunning, wondrous creature that she is, but she is not real, just like all the others. I have all these feelings and nowhere to express them. What I wouldn’t give... Shit. I lost my way through the previous paragraph. Big fucking surprise. Anyway, the last of the coffee is here next to me, meaning I’ll have to head to the wine store soon and get that shit out of the way today. I have no expectations of understanding or clarity. The keyboard pays no mind. 1122. Everything I usually do this time of day is finished. I picked up the order at the wine store and stopped at the hardware for a couple of items. Ugh... There was a reminder of what Julie did with her adorable smiling face. Damn. I didn’t need to be exposed to that shit again. Anyway, I have my requisite cocktail here on the table and hours ahead to do whatever I want. I see that my neighbor rolled one of his bikes onto the driveway. He’s probably heading over the bridge or to some club event. It’s nice to see people I care about living life to the fullest. I don’t do that at all. I barely live. And another fucking slap to my psyche... I just saw her again and wish I hadn’t. Jesus fucking Christ on a rubber crutch. She was the subject of the damaging dreams, the first being a slow-motion image of manicured fingers gently tugging at a black bra strap. That caused her right breast to bounce slightly, the wonder of which I cannot get out of my head no matter the day or circumstances. Maybe I should head to the backyard and repeatedly slam my head against the concrete. Unbelievable. She is a vision beyond description. As I said... The damaging dreams took their toll two years ago and continue to render me fucking worthless and constantly questioning my entire life. After not seeing her for weeks, I became accustomed to nothing of note passing by my window. Now everything has returned. Marvelous. Just what I fucking needed. ‘Take that off. Now take the other one off and put the first one back on. Bless you.’ Suicide. Plain and simple. Do you see another way out of this condition?
1234 is on the clock at this very moment. The time reminds me of that amazing day many years ago... 12:34:56 pm on 7/8/90. Do you remember that one? All the numbers were lined up in order. The sequence also appeared twelve hours earlier on the same day, although most of the recognition was during daylight. That was really cool, both due to the numbers appearing in a row for one second and because it occurred during the glowing years. 1234567890. Interesting. In the space of typing those words, the moment disappeared. I still see her... Out there looking amazing... My brain melting due to the sight... The knowledge that my life has already run its course. This is very sad, yet not surprising. The longer I live, the more I will drown myself in memories of the past, and the further from reality I will venture. My shows will help as much as they can, the lack of needing to work each day will assist me in dealing with day-to-day life and watching others go about the things that bring them joy, but the underlying truth is I am already aware of the destination at the end of this morbid path. I will continue to do things as I see fit, and then one day I will be dead. And... Here I sit on a Saturday morning after the usual drive to the City. I have coffee and one of the auxiliary programs since the gangsters are again glitching. Well, not them, but the stream. I still don’t understand the cause of that crap, so the solution is to switch to something else for a while. At least I get to see the adorable Julie. Being home after driving is very nice, and the route was very smooth today. I have plans that will hopefully help me to forget yesterday’s massive pit into which I fell just after lunch. I really don’t enjoy feeling that way and must push to avoid a repeat. As I’ve said on many occasions, the little improvements may be on tap today rather than trying to tackle larger concerns. I see that my neighbor is once again heading out on his motorcycle. Good for him... Living life. I am doing the opposite, although such a fact has very little to do with anyone that is still living. I’ve slid downward quite a bit throughout the past four years and really don’t see any other way to live each day. I need the little enjoyments, none of which are good for me. I also need to see certain things; also very unhealthy. After all this time, my days are pretty well set in stone. Something pretty cataclysmic would have to take place in order for me to make any real changes. Today is day twenty-five. Figure it out. Day one was just after the shed was built, yet the number has nothing to do with that project. Good luck, and keep in mind that today is actually another version of ‘day three’. ‘Keyboard not found. Press F1 to continue...’ Heh. That brings me back to the afterglow when my buddy and I struggled to make DOS work properly for games. We had so much trouble much of the time that there were days when I nearly gave up. The last of the coffee, as I always say around this time of each morning. I’ll get to the very simple daily routine very soon. For the time being, I need to keep the house as quiet as possible because I am not alone. Someone is sleeping, along with both cats. I don’t mind the quiet. It’s actually how I prefer the house every day; quiet. My brain requires time and space to operate in any decent fashion. Anyway, yesterday I began reconfiguring the toolbox and removing anything not classified as ‘tools’. That box has a way of filling with errant items whenever I feel like clearing the bench and tabletop, and then later I start to think that some of that crap is not needed at all and I’ve been storing it for years simply due to ‘always doing things the same’. Well, I’ve cut the cord on lots of stuff in recent months, and the toolbox is important to me since my set continues to grow. Having the proper tools for any job or project is very important to me these days. I’ll probably move that process along later today. I’d like to cut the shelves for the shed, too, but I haven’t been very motivated. The brackets are here, so all I need to do is slice some plywood and get them mounted above one of the shelving units. The shelves will hold some lightweight items in order to store heavier crap below. The shed must remain free of clutter and unnecessary shit so everything out there remains accessible. Jennifer has a nice ass. Just a thought. As for the housework and whatnot, my coffee will be gone very soon and I’ll get out of the office. The entire site is still offline because I don’t want anyone reading my words for a while. How long? I don’t know, nor do I care. I even went so far as to disable directory browsing in order to avoid any imperial entanglements. That means I don’t want anyone accessing files, ever. The process was kind of a pain in the ass, honestly, but a few workarounds did the job. The site is mostly secure, and if my concern increases, there is the option of garbling the directories or simply removing files of note. I have lots of options when it comes to writing, the most secure of which is to cease working in the cloud and using the laptop for local work without connecting to the Internet. I really don’t want to go that far, but if pushed, I will push back. That is that. As of this moment, the most likely scenario is to await the end of the hosting plan and allow it to expire without a renewal. I see no reason to allow people to read this shit. Few actually care, and those who do cannot help. 1132. My usual stuff is done and I have a nice fat cocktail here on the table. I also made my famous dip this morning so it can normalize overnight. That’s usually a football snack, but I am unwilling to wait. Overnight is best since the spices are all dried. The dip will be delicious tomorrow and beyond. The house is still quiet, so I won’t be doing much for a little while. As of now, the feeling is to continue moving a few things into the shed and take updated measurements for the shelves. They will meet in one corner and supplement the units already residing in that wonderful space. Once complete, there will be more organization so that I have easy access to consumables. Sunday. Will today be any different than all the rest? I mean, other than my typical Sunday business? No. Today will be no different. The program from last night caused a massive problem that is still swirling in my head and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it. The housework will have to suffice, I guess. And no, the problem was not a ‘form’. Not even close. Quite the reverse, actually, but I am not going to explain anything. There is no longer any point in trying to address such a topic. After all these years, I was finally hit in the face with the sad realization that my words are worthless when it comes to the ears of other people. The last four years have seen enormous, sweeping changes in the perceptions of the past and other historic ‘situations’ as related to certain people, mostly different nationalities. All of them are failing due to one simple fact that circumvents any intention, and that is the fact that no matter what people say or do about anyone different from themselves, there is no way to change the way they think. Oh, they will demonstrate tolerance, acceptance, or whatever, but underneath it all is still the same person. That is why society is going nowhere and never will. Along such lines, I cannot alter another person’s stance regardless of facts or effort. Period. There is just no fucking way around it. I have tried for years and am now fucking sick and tired of the entire affair. I’ve had it. I shall remain alone in my beliefs and permanently shut out everyone else. No darkened doorsteps; no understanding, yet again. I will have to fully embrace anything with the power to distract me from unsolvable problems. I took the drive this morning a bit earlier than usual and was overjoyed to arrive back home. Now the entire day is up to me. I’ll have the routine and some garbage business to care for, and then perhaps I can move a few more items into the shed. I’ve been putting off the shelves because nothing has appeared appealing lately. Only the most straightforward shit has been done in recent days. 1027. What does that mean? Cocktail time. I completed the daily routine despite needing to keep the house quiet. I was not willing to wait because I knew once I finished the usual stuff, the booze could flow like a two-bit whore. Now I can relax for a while and sip. I purchased two more old combination wrenches to further my set – mostly to get it back to the way it was prior to moving to the coast – and am now awaiting a total of seven wrenches to arrive in the mail sometime during the next week or so. I can’t stand a set of wrenches or sockets that sits incomplete. I used to have all sorts of stuff, but left much of it behind (other than the tools which belonged to my dad) after moving because it was the right thing to do. My intention is to gather tools and equipment until the entire box is properly outfitted for any contingencies. I’ve always been a ‘tool person’ and I believe my dad’s early career and involvement in auto racing are the reasons. Well, whatever the case, I like to be prepared for anything. And speaking of being prepared, last night was the switch from the second series to the fifth, meaning the order is correct this time. Ninety-eight episodes later, I’ll change to the first show again. I have recorded the start date and time of each series here in the cloud because I am a basket case. As for today, I’ll probably relax here for a little while and then start the rest of my work. There is a portion of my brain that is very mellow right now, the reason being that I won’t have to drive to the City again until next Sunday. That is fucking nice. I prefer being home, as if that hasn’t been obvious up to this point. Other than some sort of road trip or enticing vacation away from here, I need to remain holed up on this property for the duration. This is my whole world – in reality – and despite such a fact, I have two alternate realities inside my head, one of which comes to mind when I go to bed at night. The procedure is very special and has never been revealed to another human being regardless of the fact that I’ve been doing the same thing on and off for four decades. I may broach the topic in a later entry. This is day twenty-seven and I have little motivation to reveal something so deeply personal and important. I only mentioned it because last night I considered the idea of exploring that little world further, and using the keyboard in addition to my mind. We shall see if the idea comes to light at a later date. Oh, and when I say ‘procedure’, I am referring to a process that takes place in my brain, nothing more. Don’t get your shit in a twist. I am not sure about the rest of the day outside my garbage business and putting away the clean dishes. The situation from last night – that crappy reference from the television series – is weighing upon my head like a pile of lead-shit, and I have to find a way to alleviate the anger and related emotions if I am to be productive in any way. This has happened before, although in the past I simply ignored everything and waited for it to fade into the background of my days. The shit was just last night, too. I will have to find some determination if I am going to rise again and find a way to deal with what has become yet another uncomfortable reminder of shit situation number one. End of line."
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