Day Twenty-Seven Mature content No. 416 Published July 1st, 2024 7:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "‘...for the same reason you shut everyone else out: You’re afraid they won’t like what they see.’ Interesting, and likely very common. Today is still Sunday. The previous essay came to an end because I don’t want the line count getting out of control. I am still sitting here at the table with my loving cocktail and keyboard; the program of choice over there on the right-hand display. The IDE is to my left, in case anyone gives a shit. Eighty-one inches of screen real estate is very nice. I used to have two, and one of the displays was over forty-six inches across the diagonal (many years ago), and that was the configuration of the previous desktop system. In building this one, I decided to keep the height to a minimum rather than having one frame looming large above the other. The machine can drive four, but I like the view out the window. There is a gap just big enough for me to see the trees, hills and sky. The view conjures thoughts of... A road trip. Sometimes when I have lunch, I let the cats relax on the sofa and eat here in the office. While doing so, I maximize the center browser window and explore maps of places I have been, along with others I’d like to either repeat or see for the first time. The map technology these days is fucking amazing and allows me to research all sorts of locations from my chair. The upside is being able to plan routes and stopovers, while the downside is realizing that I may never see some of them. In the previous entry I mentioned my dad’s tools. Well, he was a huge proponent of road trips, and likely the main influence for the way I feel about driving through beautiful places and seeing everything first-hand rather than flying to a destination and missing out on the closeup visits to landmarks, scenery or other places that are unseen from tens of thousands of feet in elevation. Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of reasons to take a plane on vacation. I just feel that anything enticing within the western states should be seen from the car. There are historic details that cannot be appreciated from the air. I really need a road trip, and not the simple, overnight excursions I’ve enjoyed this year. The highways between here and the capitol have been treaded so many times that I know every exit by rote. The same goes for the southern half of California. I need to go further... Into the deserts of Nevada and beyond, like the southern half of Utah where the landscape has not changed in more than ten thousand years. Maybe I’ll see it again. Maybe I won’t. Time to get a few things done. 1306. Well, I blasted some music, which is integral for the process of tree trimming. That is finished. I also have a head start on the garbage business. I decided to have a little snack before going further with my housework. 1529. Everything is finished aside from rolling the totes to the curb. I may toss a few more items into the trash, so they can wait until a bit later. There is enough laundry for one load, too. I may do that tomorrow during the morning quiet time. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Moreover, the memories I’ve dredged up regarding Andrea and Ashley are cutting me up inside. Not just today, but ever since writing somewhat of a realization some years ago that remains unpublished for good reason. I tried to discuss the matter with one other person, and while my words were taken to heart, the full understanding did not happen due to my being a tad ambiguous at the time. I just couldn’t get myself to reveal everything I felt for fear of ostracizing myself and alienating the listener. At the time, there was only one pair of ears available (now gone for good) and the risk was far too great. Well, now that there is no one left, the only thing I can do is try to understand the whole shitaree on my own. This is something that dates all the way back to the period following my exit from the Marines in the eighties. That is a long fucking time for anything to linger, let alone an aspect of living with such dire and long-term consequences. I think Julie had her breasts enlarged sometime between this series and years later when she appeared on the Hallmark Channel in a Christmas movie. As a male, I don’t fully understand the reasoning, yet at the same time I know precisely how males view the opposite sex and all of the negative ramifications therein. I was told by a very wise person that society’s fascination and preoccupation with ‘size’ was manufactured and solidified over time by males. If true, the fact would not be surprising. Anyway, returning to the other topic, I don’t know what to do and everything is stuck inside me like the information is being held by the worst possible super glue. Layer upon layer... Years of it. One layer glued atop the last. Nothing goes away. The problems continue to build upon themselves. Layers. Perpetual layers, to be sure. ‘Permanence’. It’s not just a spell anymore. Ashley altered the way I think on a daily basis, how I ‘see’ other people, and pretty much garnered the top award for being unique, second place having been awarded to the Raven. Her stance was mostly related to the whole of society, whereas Ashley educated me about the way she felt toward the sexes. Our conversations continue to ring inside me as if we just spoke days ago, and keep in mind that I spent time with that doll more than two decades ago. She changed everything, literally. EVERYTHING. Now? Not a day goes by without something reminding me of her views. And? Not a single fucking soul with whom I’ve had contact in twenty years thinks anywhere near along the same lines. Isn’t that just peachy? Am I paying the fucking tab? Sometimes I believe all this pain is for a dead solid reason, and I am not just referring to the first shit situation. There has to be more. From the eighties until now... Is that enough time to define an era? I miss her. I also find myself missing the 1236 period. Some programs that I watch from time to time remind me of the beginning of high-definition television (for me, anyway) and how it changed the way I looked at the screen. There was awe, wonder, and a measure of hope for the future of the medium. The episode that is playing right now, in fact, was originally seen by me back in aught-six, a time when the image quality was new and beautiful. Now? Too much has progressed – much like mobile phones that plateaued some years ago due to everything being the ‘same’ – and the wonder is no longer available. I really miss that whole era. The apartment was super comfortable, I lived there during a time when my truck project went through many advancements, and the social aspect of living was much more rewarding and far less suspicious than the present. Eh... I’m sure years from now I’ll be commenting upon the way everything in life is right now and missing it, too. Perhaps that is the way of things. Well, I fucking hate it. Dinner may be ordered this evening unless I find the motivation to make some pasta sauce. The recipe is always in my head and very simple, the only aspect requiring much attention is adding extra water at the beginning so the dried spices and herbs can simmer for a couple of hours. Sometimes I add a handful of chopped kalamata olives for a kick. If I order dinner, it will be Chinese food from the magnificent restaurant at the north end of town. That means dinner for three nights and lunches in between. Not bad. It’s rather expensive, but seeing as one order adds up to so many meals, the cost is spread out quite a bit. Exciting, eh? This is one of the highlights of what my life has become. Along those lines, I have been considering bringing out one of the big car models to build on the dining table. I miss the process. Again... Very exciting. Oh, and they have produced yet another model since I last built any of them. It’s a fucking Ferrari consisting of more than 3800 pieces. That could be an adventure in and of itself. Time will tell. If I do begin to build one of the cars, the situation will probably bring me back in time a few years when I felt a little better than I do right now. Monday morning is here. Isn’t that great? Monday. Hmm... Let’s run a count real quick and see how the numbers shape up. This is roughly the 217th Monday since I stopped working full-time. Interesting. Years ago, Monday was not fun even though we generally took it easy with scheduling work at the beginning of each week. The weekends were precious and Monday represented the end of my comfort. Now? I have the house to myself, can keep everything nice and quiet, and work on whatever I wish. And the coffee... That’s one of those items I rarely enjoyed properly while working. I remember when I was little and waiting to go to school in the morning (fearfully, much of the time) and my dad was getting ready for work. I always wanted to go with him and help somehow because I knew it would be better than school. The only time I was able to tag along was on a Saturday. School took priority. Well, look at the current situation as opposed to when I was young or years later working every day at what was often a very toilsome job. I don’t have to go anywhere except the occasional shopping. There is no school anymore. There is no work anymore. Aside from my few responsibilities, I can do pretty much whatever I wish while at home. One might believe the situation is very advantageous, and they would be correct. Had I been working for the last four years, I’d be a very unpleasant person, in much better physical shape, and likely more suicidal than I am right now. I was routed and did not like it one bit. I am still routed, however. Just in a different way. Squished, too. I can’t do anything about that shit, but I can sit here and appreciate the time I have today. By the way, I did accompany my dad to work... Once while he was manager of quality in the defense electronics industry, he brought me along on a Saturday. I loved it. Zoe caught me severely upside the head 0816. Coffee. The sun is trying to break through the marine layer. The temperature is already fairly warm outside, too, so perhaps I can open the house and get some fresh air in here. Oy... The driver just missed my gray can and emptied all the rest on the street. Ugh. I’ll have to make a call. Anyway, my routine will be very quick today thanks to ordering dinner last night. There is very little cleanup in the kitchen. Maybe with all of the extra time I’ll have today, I can get into one of the car models for a while. The morning has already been a depressing disaster, so I may as well do something enjoyable and relax. Sitting at the dining table with all the parts organized and spread out combined with a nice cocktail and the television was one of my favorite scenes. I’ve built all five models more than once and will be doing it again just for comfort. I’d like to get that new Ferrari, but my God is it ever expensive. Maybe another time. I called about the trash can. Hopefully, the driver will return this morning. The last time my can was missed, they sent a truck the following morning. That’s fine, but I would prefer it to be emptied today. 0941. I have to break out of the bad feelings and memories so I can move on with the day’s business. I really don’t enjoy being made to feel this way by external forces, especially considering there are very few individuals left alive with whom I could take issue. One family member is included in that group, meaning I have no one off which to bounce my thoughts about the past. When the coffee is gone, I’ll take care of the daily business and then head in whatever direction seems best. I may or may not end up at the dining table with a car model. The jury is still out on that idea. Sometimes I feel like I need to be more productive rather than sitting and working on a frivolous project, although there is nothing wrong with relaxing at times. I take care of every aspect of this household, so maybe I will talk myself into building a car. Right now I just don’t know. Ah, shit... Here comes Cara and her amazing facial features. Damn. She is stunning even with tears in her eyes. Chris was an idiot because Cara was fucking wonderful in every way. Whatever. They are not real anyway. They are on the screen, forever in the past, and not real. The rest are gone. I need to get away from this. Tuesday has arrived with zero fanfare and my head full of loss. I can’t help it. Yesterday was very relaxing because I indeed broke out the model and began building it once again. Hours I spent on the thing with my show in the background. I was unconcerned about any other work because the model kept me both comfortable and full of enjoyment. That is one of the little things I mention from time to time, but sitting for hours like that is not always a good idea. Dinner was just leftovers, meaning easy prep and not much cleanup. I’ll have the kitchen finished fairly quickly this morning. And speaking of yesterday, the garbage company did send a truck during the early afternoon to empty the cart that had been missed during the early morning. Very good. I don’t need any delays when it comes to the gray can because it is the smallest they offer. One week is about the limit. Anyway, I have yet to know what today may have in store for my mind. The woman playing piano at the psychiatric facility in this episode has a fucking gorgeous chest. Her sweater is ideal for showing off the beautifully round shape of her breasts. They are not overly large or out of proportion, yet prominent. That look is so fucking attractive when connected to the right type of frame, I swear I could stare at her in that scene all day long. Just a thought. Damn. Onward with whatever the fuck I am doing. I’ll begin the routine soon, pour a huge glass of whiskey, and then see how I feel about the rest of the day. Christina’s chest will fade away soon enough. Everything fades except memories and Jamie. I am in love with her. Well, if I know what the phrase actually means, that is. I’ve stated that I love her for a very long time. To be completely honest, I really don’t know what that word means, either. I was told something very interesting many years ago. ‘Love is just a word. What that word represents can be different for everyone.’ I have no fucking idea, but I will say that when I see her beautiful, emotional pools of wonder (eyes), there is a deep-seated instantaneous need for her to hold me. Whatever that is, I don’t know or care. That is how I feel after all these years. Jamie is above all things in the universe for me, even the Passion. This is fucking stupid. Let’s take care of some housework, shall we? 1122. I finished the routine and sorted a ton of paperwork that needed to be divided between tossing into the recycle bin straight away or shredding and then recycling. Ooh-fa. This takes place from time to time because I often receive a load of paperwork from the City requiring scrutiny. Since I am good at such operations, I’m trusted with the paperwork. Many people – mostly those who throw boxes next to their recycle bin or end up with cardboard three feet above the lid – do not have the patience or inclination to make things fit properly. They may also lack the time, although in my experience the time is there even if a person is busy. Motivation is the key. I took the time to completely separate the papers and envelopes and get them all stacked so they can be shredded in decent order. And there is Jamie in the second half of the sixth season. It doesn’t get much better than that. Anyway, when it comes to organization and garbage, I try to be as efficient as possible. Maximizing the trash and other cans saves money in the long run, too. Wednesday has arrived whether I like it or not. Sometime later this morning I need to head to three different stores. Ugh. At least when I arrive home again I’ll feel much better. This is easy stuff, for sure, yet for whatever reason I always end up nervous, and I am not referring to the possibility of seeing something special. My head is not in that particular space today because of depression and disillusionment. Whatever changed a couple of years ago (or was it last year?) is really taking its toll upon my psyche and has left me even less motivated than I could have predicted. Day-to-day activities do not appear rewarding like they once did. This situation has had more negative effects on my heart than anything else, and that includes a distinct lack of understanding from the right person. I’ll go and do the shopping and then return, after which I’ll take care of the very quick routine like yesterday. I am so down in the dumps right now that I must head out soon, lest my mood gets the best of me and I end up without those items I need for tonight and this weekend. I am making salads again because there is a birthday dinner uptown on Saturday and everyone likes the way my salads taste. That means soaking beans and boiling beets tomorrow in order to create both dishes on Friday. I will not let anyone down just because I am having serious problems inside. They have nothing to do with my condition. Maybe when I return from the drive I can finally move a few components here on the table and get that nagging project out of the way. I’d like my wristwatches to find the WWVB signal at night so they can be corrected. The box must be nearer to the window in order for that to happen, so I’ve decided to move the RAID system and disc reader to the top of the safe which is to my right. That will open lots of space atop the table. Everything – even the simplest, ten-minute tasks – feels nearly impossible these days. I find myself caring less and less with the passage of time. I know that once I am gone, none of this shit will matter anymore. 1156. I am back from the shopping trip and already knocked out the routine. That means two positives are apparent. One is the fatass cocktail sitting here next to me, and the other is having the rest of the day to myself. And yes, there were wondrous things to see at the produce market. Remember the Asian girl that hit me upside the head last month? There was another, albeit she was slightly different. I saw one amazing form in the parking lot, too, but only for a few seconds as I walked toward the entrance. As I said earlier, my head is not aligned with much of that type of thinking this morning, so neither really caused much of a problem. I have other, much larger concerns these days. Internal shit, really... Problems more difficult to deal with than some random female form out there in society. There will always be something to see, meaning I expect disaster almost all the time. The processes that are chewing me up inside are far greater considerations and much more important. The bottom line is I am beginning to believe that shortly after the first damaging dream, the change I often reference was the actual end of living. I am also starting to see that without the proper understanding or a dramatic alteration to life, there is nothing I can do about it. Thursday morning and I am thinking about yesterday’s massive pitfall and what I can do to change it. I am also concerned that I am powerless to deal with the purity and related emotions, and seeing as there has been yet another reminder of the past, the difficulty has multiplied tenfold. There is little anger right now, and that is a good thing. The truth is I am far too sad and depressed to become angry right now. Seeing things in my sleep is tough sometimes because I end up completely invested in such situations and end up slammed by reality and another reminder of the fucking purity, the sum result being me unable to function properly. There are other factors, but I can’t point them out here. Even without publishing, I can’t have certain information flying off this keyboard. The dreams are bad enough. I don’t need the purity piled atop the already desperate and dire feelings. I am barely alive right now. On the upside, I need not leave the house today at all. Yesterday’s shopping trip was ok, I guess, and though I saw some beautiful sights, I made it through the entire three-store affair with few problems. The interesting part is not actually leaving and driving there, it is considering leaving earlier in the morning. The feeling is akin to some weight sitting on my shoulders and I really don’t like that shit. No such feelings are within me this morning. That’s very good. The other shit is beginning to affect me and I don’t need anything else on top of it right now. Memories are bad enough, and when added to the purity and all its inherent factors and considerations, I am seeing my life running out... Ending. As I said above, more than two years have passed since that first dream and some alteration to my being that I don’t fully understand, and I now see that the process was a line that I crossed. Between the dream (a dramatic change in the way I was thinking each day) and becoming concerned about the purity (a part of life that I had rarely considered in serious terms because it was not necessary), I have been caught off-guard in a very unexpected way and see that everything good, fulfilling or enjoyable is actually behind me. Sometime earlier this morning while I slept, the latest reminder of this straight road into oblivion came along and took away my comfort. I am still feeling the loss several hours later. This shit is going to ruin my morning and I fucking hate it. I don't know who the woman on the right is, but... she carries the same facial trait as Roxanne 1034. The laundry is in process and my daily housework is out of the way. I’ve been rerouting cables in order to move the RAID system to the top of the safe, and the process is tedious. I need to find a two-meter ethernet cable before rebooting the drives, though. The next time I place an Amazon order, it will be included. The disc reader will sit atop the RAID as it did before. As for the rest of the control center, I believe everything is in place and about as organized as it can be considering the complexity. My watch box will soon reside here on the table (along with its charge lamp) so the receivers can connect to the WWVB during the night. The box sat in the same place years ago and operated just fine, so no worries. As for the hours ahead, I only have little tasks to complete. I may have to take a drive to the smaller market for some creamer. That’s an easy one aside from possibly seeing the woman named Jamie behind the register. That fact caught me upside the head like a fucking brick. And yes, there is a nice cold glass of booze next to me. Big surprise. I only know her name because she recognized me after shopping at that place for the last four years, the natural extension of which is typically to ask the person’s name. I haven’t been there in months, so perhaps she will not recall my name, but hers is tattooed on my brain thanks to the love of my life. I bought a used 11/32” 12-point combination wrench on eBay and the seller sent an industrial 6-point version. It’s no big deal to me, but I may have to contact them in case the mistake messes up another of their auctions. Very interesting. I rarely receive incorrect orders, and that is saying a lot considering I’ve been buying and selling on eBay for 25 years. My other wrenches also showed up and they are fantastic. The tool set continues to grow, albeit at a very low cost thanks to the fact that I’ve been purchasing older and better made tools from the seventies and eighties. Friday morning. Coffee. Quiet. Time to think. And boy do I ever need lots of it today. I saw another example of the end-all be-all of beauty as combined with the last bastion of human endeavor. Rolled into one slender frame, she took me from myself as I realized her eyes were dead-on correct. Not like the race girl’s eyes, yet not too far off, either. This woman shook me to the core and it was only partially due to her physical appearance. Personality came through everything I was seeing like a fucking freight train, and I could feel the precise type of individual that she is... From the inside out. Believe it. I felt it. This is a huge problem. No sooner did she begin to speak when I felt it... I sensed that she would understand and ‘know’ everything without prejudice; without judgment. Perhaps even with nary a thought to the negative. She was wonderful to see and even better to feel. I’ve known for years – all the way back to when I manufactured ‘Jaime’ just to keep myself going from one day to the next when my world was falling apart – that the possibility of the right type of person is out there, somewhere. She will never be near to me, yet I can’t deny the feeling that there are just too many people in the world for her not to exist at all. Well, the woman from this morning conveyed more to me than anyone else throughout the past decade-plus, and she did it from afar. I’ve seen little tidbits and examples here and there, leaving the idea of some of them rolled into the same person seemingly impossible. There have been too many different ideas and traits for me to believe they could combine, ever. Certain factors do stand out and drive me up the fucking wall, but I must maintain the standpoint of a person who realizes there has been far too much fantasy dictating what I’ve been trying to find in reality. Those fucking factors have become beacons at times, pushing me to force the idea that maybe there truly is something out there that can help me and answer the questions, yet at the same time those very same factors also feel completely impossible, or akin to the idea that due to the wondrous nature of such living ways, I most decidedly do not deserve them. The woman I saw this morning quickly became the antithesis of my desperate nature by conveying enough through her eyes to inform me that this fucking search may not be fruitless. At the same time, I also believe the rarity of her type cannot be denied. Not even a little bit. And remember, I am not just referring to her appearance. The personality is far more powerful. Regardless, I grabbed a couple of images so I could stare. The problems related to seeing her this morning will continue to increase in severity. I already know that much because I have a very difficult time understanding what she broadcasted while appearing so fucking stunning that I should have beat myself over the head with a hammer. Personality took me from myself and sent me into another world... One in which I could actually be ok. Is that woman the answer? Wait... There is more than one question. The not-so-obvious of which is... ‘Do my feelings even matter?’ She is just a person and I am fascinated with what I saw and felt. In the real world, however, I don’t believe there is anything that can be done about such feelings, nor can I sit here and actually justify the way I view the world and its inhabitants in general, and a woman like her in particular. I am far too out of balance to actually connect with a single fucking soul from now until the end of time. All I can do is look at her, feel whatever I feel, and then fall on my face again knowing that there is nothing left for me. The more I think about what happened this morning, the less I believe I can make it through life much longer. Her face was the key. The face is always key because that is the place where personality comes through, and no level of physical beauty can do the same. Period. Form can only go so far. Julie looks a bit scary sometimes when she raises just the right-hand eyebrow, forcing a bit of an inverted ‘v’ above. It’s not a Spock thing, either. She has her own trademark that is there to inform others of whenever she is not to be trifled. Cute and scary at the same time, for sure. I have to make salads today. All the preparations were completed yesterday in good time, so now I have to construct each dish so they can chill in the refrigerator overnight. I also need to fucking think about things today; the woman, my place in the world, the rest of my life (however long that may be), and any fucking project or aspect of living I can embrace that has even a slice of the level of power required to distract me from who and what I have become. Not much to ask, eh? The name of the woman over whom I’ve gone goo-ga is Zoe. Very interesting. And there is a woman in this episode named Jamie who carries as much stunning beauty as she does menacing, fear-inducing facial expressions. Wow. There can be no doubt that I have a ‘thing’ for female names beginning with the letter ‘j’, and Jamie is at the top of the list for good reason. Another example of that name combined with a fucking amazing, slender form from the gods and gorgeous, dark eyes is not what I need right now. I am certifiable. I know it because I just spent ten minutes securing some very large, detailed images of Zoe’s unbelievable face. Certifiable. No doubt. While I watched her on the television this morning, the torment reared its head almost immediately. I became distraught because I knew she was real but could not do anything about it. I need to scream from the rooftop... I have to scream my feelings due to being so out of balance and desperate to let her know just how much she moved me in the space of thirty fucking seconds. I HAVE TO TELL HER. I can’t, and it hurts. The rarity of a face and a pair of eyes transmitting so much emotion into my heart cannot be overstated. Nothing at this level has occurred to me since the race girl, believe it or not. I need to cease this topic for a little while. 0919. I am already mentally and emotionally out of fucking gas today and there is quite a bit to be done. One step at a time, I suppose. I don’t know why I included the logo below. Maybe I just felt it for some reason. 1035. My daily routine is finished and the beans are simmering. They will be on the stove until just before one this afternoon, and that after soaking overnight. Beans are cement until such a process. Heh. Anyway, from here forward I can check on the pot and add water as necessary, in and around everything else I do. Well, if I do anything, that is. This morning is still taking its toll on my psyche because the event was both unexpected and crippling. I already had enough reasons to apply my solution and really did not need anything else piled atop that shit. Moreover, the woman (Jamie) that appears in ten episodes of this program is driving me up the fucking wall due to her very unique facial structure – a wide, flat mouth, full lips and elongated, slender nose – the type to which I have been highly attracted for decades. Well, combine all that stuff with long, dark, wavy hair and very dark eyes and the sum is far more than I can take without losing my fucking mind. I need to check on the beans. Ah... They are doing fine. Another half hour may find me adding water. Anyway, I really wish I could go into more detail regarding my feelings for such beauty (and the damned names), but published or not, I can’t expose myself to any possible, hellish backlash. This shit predates the damaging dreams but is related nonetheless. Everything is related, and that’s not an exaggeration. I am slowly losing reasons to go on living. One idea that came to mind which may help me today is to continue building the model car. I’ve not touched it for a few days because the idea to capture more images came to mind, and that means it has to remain partially built in order to expose the colorful nature of the car at its present stage. I can combine pizza for lunch and some time working on the car in the hopes of extricating Zoe and Jamie from my head for a while. One humorous thought just popped into my fucked-up brain... After watching the debate last night and considering options for the upcoming election, I believe my condition takes priority over any prospect of this nation being led by the appropriate type of person. In addition, I often lament the loss of the past and complain about the way the world is right now. Technology has become boring and expected, there are two significant, horrible wars taking place on the other side of the world and threatening to divide the rest to the point of yet another, larger war, and hope for the future seems to be at an all-time low. All that shit has combined to force me to think that perhaps we need to vote for the more reckless candidate just so the end of the world arrives sooner. Once the population is obliterated, nothing else can come along to worsen everything. Jesus fucking hell is Jamie ever unique. I had forgotten about her for a very long time, or at least since I watched this program in its entirety. Looking at her is very painful. So, whatever the result this fall, I don’t believe improvement is on our horizon. It’s just not possible anymore. All I can do is sit here and watch it all play out, at the same time watching my hope diminish. If the theater of war expands, it may be the last occasion of such a thing for humankind. As I said, all I can do is wait and watch, good or bad. My heart skips a beat every time this logo hits the screen I sold the race tickets last month because I’ve become disillusioned with the event. For the last decade, I renewed the seats and parking pass during the early morning at the track because it was very easy and usually yielded some kind of gift, and several of them have been very useful. Renewal was always a part of the morning when the track was quiet. I paid a deposit and moved on with the day. Part of the reason was to support the sport and venue. Selling was not an easy decision, either, mostly due to having so much history attending the event as it dated all the way back to the late nineties when my dad and I visited together. We were at the very first, believe it or not. So, as my feelings have changed in recent years, I went through the entire process of bank and tax information along with listing this year’s tickets for sale, and lo and behold someone bought them. I was paid some days ago and very satisfied with the affair. But... I just grabbed today’s mail and they sent me a parking pass. Unbelievable. I guess I’ll just add it to the collection. I would have thought that they knew not to send a pass because I have no event tickets. I guess not. Will I miss being there? A little bit. The venue and structure of the race are very different from the past. Last year I opted to bring the big camera and spend time in the pits and surrounding area rather than following along with each match, and for the most part it was quite rewarding. I captured some really nice images in and around the race cars and supporting vehicles. Unfortunately, my brain kept seeing the differences from past events and the way things are done at present. I don’t fucking like it at all. This is just one more reason to abhor social changes that have pervaded the world in recent years. Everything is tightened, regulated and/or otherwise trivialized to the point of becoming completely ridiculous. I may not attend that event ever again. Progress is one of my key enemies. The worst part of what happened early this morning is that my heart became involved almost immediately. Physical desire is nowhere near as dangerous as emotional need. Believe it. Time will dictate where I go from here. Very bad. I was already weak enough. I didn’t need more shit piled atop this fucked up condition. 1405. I am exhausted. Both salads are finished (one is cooling) and the kitchen and stove are clean for the second time today. As pleased as I am to have that stuff finished, the inside of my head is still plenty screwed up. Ah, shit... The squareheads actually came to the door a moment ago. Interesting, considering I left them on the side of the information superhighway some months back. And? My garage door is open, meaning they likely saw the new mural – all sixty square feet of it – and I’d love to have been able to catch the reaction. Unfortunately, I am no longer interested in speaking to people. I will have to live with the mystery. Besides, I didn’t create that work of art for anyone other than myself. It is there for good reason and I am the only one who knows of the genesis. I was asked some weeks ago during one of the errant garage gatherings (not much to my liking) of the meaning, my reply being cryptic but not entirely veiled: It is meant as a question; a prayer of sorts. Anyway, I won’t answer the door when they visit anymore. If it happens that I’m outside, I’ll just come across in a manner they do not appreciate. My world may be less than six thousand square feet, but it’s under my control and will remain as such until I say otherwise. And speaking of the garage again, the other day I relocated my thermometer to the window covering and wired it. I need to move the smaller lighted platform to the opposite corner one of these days so it can eventually hold the large Goose bottle once I empty it. As for being so fucking tired, I don’t know what happened. It’s unusual for me to run out of gas so dramatically this early, but I feel really drained. Whatever the reason, I need to take it easy. All that garage and shed stuff will have to wait. At least I have a head start on tomorrow’s stuff. The morning should be very quiet. No drive is required of me until Sunday. That is a relaxing thought. Saturday morning is here on the heels of a comfortable Friday night. I had to run to the market at six this morning for cream and a couple of other items that I overlooked yesterday. I used to be on the very early shift back when I was working, remember? Laundry and trips to the store began an hour earlier than I was out the door today. That was cool at the time. As for this morning, I do enjoy seeing the store so empty and making the trip in record time as opposed to the afternoon. I have hours to myself due to no driving this morning, and I fully intend to take advantage of each second. The occasion is a birthday dinner at the other end of town as we do from time to time, hence the salads. I have eight hours between now and then. Jamie number two is on the screen again, all dark and mysterious, leggy and scary. She is something to see, let me tell you. Last night was Jolene, although I maintained my composure aside from blowing kisses at the screen from time to time. I already realize I am fucked in the head, so typing that phrase does not seem so out out of balance. There are other thoughts in my head which go far beyond simple gestures of infatuation. Believe it. And as for Jamie number one, the goddess of the universe and love of my life (whatever that last part actually means), I tried to complete the gangster series, but the site still has an issue with playback. I took care of streamlining everything – cache, cookies, bandwidth, hardware acceleration, etc. – and still it fucks up too often for me to sit comfortably and watch with any semblance of attention. I wish I could identify the issue. The current site has been streaming on and off for weeks without any problems whatsoever, as has one other site. I just don’t understand. I will keep trying. Alternatively, I can always finish the series on the theatre system in the living room. That equipment rarely exhibits any issues. Isn’t all this just fucking super exciting? My life... Such as it is. The morning is very quiet other than the dialog from this program. Tomorrow I’ll be driving at this hour, but the trip comes and goes quickly on Sundays. Regardless of the simplicity of that drive, I am overjoyed to have a longer morning than most weekends. I have no idea of what I am going to do with the extra time, either. Oh, boy... Sex on the display. It will be over soon enough. That is one of the aspects of what used to be called ‘pay television’ that seemed fascinating when I was young. Now? It’s just a break in the storyline and quite often completely unnecessary other than to entice the audience. Well, I don’t react as they may wish. Anyway, my coffee will be finished far earlier than usual, leaving me with more options and no idea of which way to turn. That’s fine. I’d rather have too much time than the opposite. I used to hate being in a hurry because it was a daily and often hourly occurrence when I was working. I guess years of that shitty situation jaded me. The morning will move along very slowly, just as I prefer, and in case you may have been wondering, Jennifer displays chiclets sometimes. Curious, my weekends used to be precious because of work, mostly due to being pushed and pulled with nary a second to gather my thoughts. At present, I’ve been away from work for more than four years and still relish each morning and the fact that I am rarely pressed in any particular direction other than that which I choose. Some may believe I’d eventually tire of being home all the time. Nope. I have good days and bad days, but I’d rather be here for the bad than in some fucked up building anywhere else. Right now the time is only 0742 and I can decide which way to turn... And when. ‘Hearing is the first thing to go. Or is it memory? I always forget.’ – SAIC Lundy, FBI (Keith Carradine) I remember when he starred in ‘The Long Riders’ with two of his brothers way back in nineteen eighty. That was a fantastic movie by the great Walter Hill. It’s subjective, of course, and will never appeal to everyone. Hill was fucking brutal. David, Keith and Robert Carradine portrayed the Younger brothers, along with James and Stacy Keach as Jesse and Frank James, respectively. Do I need to mention Dennis and Randy Quaid or Nicholas and Christopher Guest? All of the brothers in the film are brothers in real life. Awesome. I need to cease the practice of having lunch here at the table while browsing maps. I keep looking at both places I’ve been and wish to see, but the underlying feeling is that I will never have the opportunity again to explore those stirring places. I will typically sit here until I’m finished eating, and by that point I become saddened over the loss of my ability to go places. The circumstance is partially by design, seeing that I try to avoid people as much as possible, yet at the same time I really need to get the fuck out of here and marvel at the wonder of the west. Walking away from this table partially depressed because I can’t go anywhere is not going to help matters as they already are. I have to stop that practice. Fictional video media is fine. The maps are not. My upbringing was littered with road trips because my dad loved to travel and see new places. I am concerned that such things are all over for me. Looking at the world via maps is only going to make me sad. It has to end. Between the sheer number of entries written since I stopped working (298 as of last count), and having repeated myself ‘eight ways from Sunday’, I really don’t know what else to say here. That is the main reason for the vast exposition of what I do from one day to the next, along with a million references to what I have seen in the world or during whatever programs I’ve watched. None of this is terribly exciting, I realize, but what the fuck else am I going to do? Beauty moves me more than ever before, my future continues to be forcibly narrowed between those fucking converging lines, and my life is truncated and simplified a little bit more with each passing day. What the fuck else am I supposed to do? Almost, but still not real 1003. Cocktail hour has arrived on the heels of completing my daily routine and having a light snack. Dinner will be early, like always, so lunch is unnecessary. I don’t have to leave the house until roughly four hours from now. Aside from cleaning up a bit, there is little to do in preparation for the birthday shindig. The plan is to sit here and gather my thoughts, positive or negative as they may be. I have an item being delivered between two and six, so I’ll have to ask my neighbor to grab it off the porch if I’m already gone when it arrives. Jennifer’s chiclets are showing again. So cute. Ooh-fa... Jamie’s character is evil and unhinged right now. That’s fucking sad because she is unbelievably beautiful and alluring. Whatever. Usually, this time of day finds me considering lunch options, but the early dinner has put the kibosh to such plans. I’ll enjoy the visit, like always, and then arriving home afterward should prove very rewarding. Tomorrow is Sunday and I always enjoy taking care of business and getting everything ready for a new week. I have lots to do tomorrow, so perhaps I can get a head start on a few tasks today before leaving for the north end of town. Motivation has not been forthcoming since finishing my routine earlier. I honestly don’t know what to do other than sit here and type. The same program is still running on my right-hand display, full of Jamie’s scary beauty and other aspects of life I usually avoid. At least I know the story after having run through this series more than once since inception. Incidentally, I originally watched it during the 1236 period when picture clarity was still amazing. I will avoid a tirade. I must point out, however, that anything new and exciting will eventually fade, and the HD did just that after becoming accustomed to such quality. Now? HD is old hat, 4K seems to be the big deal, yet both have been overshadowed by two facts. First, all of the digital enhancements and motion effects typically make movies appear like video, and second, just because something is ‘new’ does not necessarily mean it is an improvement. Technology is constantly pushed regardless of how such changes may affect the end user. For myself, everything peaked roughly nineteen years ago. To this very day, when I am watching something that was originally shot on film, it had better resemble film. Otherwise, why go to the effort? Eh... I am the only person who analyzes to this level of depth. No one else seems to give a shit anymore. So long as I have complete control over picture quality, any further commentary is unnecessary. For example, my current television in the living room is five years old and all of the motion enhancements are turned off. My next television may prove to be more difficult to manipulate. I don’t want the warmth of actual film, having been bastardized by digitalization, to appear as crystal-clear video. Film is a tangible medium that one can hold in their hands, whereas everything else is just memory. And? This is yet another paragraph in a long line that has lost its way. I liked the way things ‘were’ as opposed to the way they ‘are’. Everything has been reduced; boiled down to the bare minimum of what was once called ‘interesting’. Sunday morning, 0809. The drive was fine. I don’t like people anymore and no longer want to be around them, and the feeling includes driving on streets and highways near others. The upcoming holiday will not include yours truly other than flying the requisite flags on the front of the house. I’ve become far too disillusioned for a celebration of any kind. I have to do my own thing and force them to wonder what I am doing and why, as Mr. Wagner used to say. A little piece of the structure which holds me together cracked and then broke last night and I decided that the time has come to go about my life differently. I’ll take care of everything within which I’ve already been involved and to which I’ve been committed for years, of course, but as for the rest, I can take no more of the way society views itself, nor can I continue to align with certain days or events. The holiday is in four days. I’m going to work on my truck while everyone else is focused upon their ridiculous and ill-begotten plans to outdo their neighbors and prove that they are the world champions of spending (and subsequently burning to ash) their money. I can’t fucking do it anymore and it’s important that others see the difference. Well, there are no guarantees of anything, really. All I can do is try. If I am asked, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. I was here before and beginning this morning I will not be here anymore. Ask and you shall not receive. I am certain that little, nagging issues have been piling atop one another for long enough for me to finally put the kibosh to as much involvement in the world as possible. Oh, I’ve tried over and over, yet something always comes along to make me smile just enough to relax my stance and bearing a little bit, and then later the feeling expands and I find myself right back where it all began. Not this time. I am going to remain guarded and unavailable as much as possible, this morning being the very beginning of the alteration. As I said, the possibility is that when everything hit me in the head last night as I tried to sleep, I made the decision to finally put all of my skills to work and change the way people see me. I suppose this was inevitable and would happen eventually. This is the day. Today. The little things will reflect my mood. The flags are out and one of them is indicative of the elusive forest. It might help me today. Maybe nothing will help. I can’t know at this point. The site is still offline and will remain unavailable until such time that my mood improves, if that is possible anymore. The hosting is roughly halfway through its cycle, and if I don’t feel any better later this year, it will expire and everything will disappear. This coffee is not agreeing with me like other days. I don’t know what’s wrong. Cocktail hour will probably help in more ways than one. We go... 1031. I trimmed the roses, moved the cans to the garage, and took care of the daily routine. It is indeed cocktail hour, thank fucking Christ. The music of life – including the soaring, stirring track that the Raven loved; the album conjures thoughts and a mood related to isolation, destruction and cultural derealization – has been following me through the mighty wireless MDRs at every step of the way. This will continue, as opposed to one of my programs on the three televisions, for the remainder of the day. At some point I’ll have to switch from headphones to the audio system in the garage because I can only wear these for a few hours at a time before I get tired of the weight on my head. The wireless MDRs are nearly as comfortable as the wired set, yet they do eventually cause discomfort. I will say the wireless version of these excellent audio reproduction devices helps me work around the house and yard without announcing to the world that I am in a horrible, damaging mood. As for my feelings related to the fucking music, there is a huge difference. I rarely tire of hearing forest-minded compositions and the worlds they create. I need them to help me fucking live these days. Further, an electric bicycle was delivered yesterday while I was at the other end of town, and my neighbor grabbed the box, thankfully. We do that sometimes... Pick up the other’s packages for security. The only problem is I have to wait some hours to get it because he works through the night and sleeps during the day. No big deal. And the bike is not for me. I ordered it as a favor to someone else. Once it’s in the garage, I am to build and evaluate the machine and report back to the buyer. Testing an electric bicycle will be the enjoyable part. I am looking forward to the process. There is no particular hurry, and I am hoping to take possession later today. Seeing as much of my Sunday business is complete, the plan is to work on whatever is enjoyable rather than necessary. I am in no fucking mood for physical labor of any type, nor do I care to associate with anyone aside from one neighbor. He and I have similar attitudes toward society. The other half of the world, those who have ridiculous diets and drive electric vehicles because they believe it is the ‘right thing to do’ are nowhere near the same. They need to be left to their little worlds, just like me. Along such lines, the music of life is injecting thoughts of my time with the Raven into my angry, tired brain. She was the very definition of dark beauty, quite literally the most beautiful, stirring and alluring appearance in existence. This is going to be a very difficult day, mark my words. I should have died back in the year of fifteen. I should have fucking died. Now I am cemented like never before. I remember thinking that the year of eleven – the cave period – was the worst. No fucking way. The loss of the Raven stands head and shoulders above any other fucking era. Of that there can be no doubt. This is going to be a two-cocktail morning, good or bad as the situation may transpire. Jesus fucking Christ on a cross... I miss Her so much that the pain still runs deep. No one understood; no one understands. They never will. Only She knew it all. The cloud application into which I have been writing for years now boasts an AI-driven summary system. I am overjoyed to no fucking end because with such a tool I can go back in time to some of the nonfiction – as I did when enrolled in an online college rife with very helpful writing tools – and make adjustments to some of the grammar and structure. That is fucking amazing. AI may be a huge point of contention around the globe right now, but some aspects are extremely beneficial. I plan to take full advantage of such a service. Today is day 33. Today is also day 3260. I may have died years ago and just didn’t realize the state of things. This is a very bad day, but there are positives. My work around the house is very helpful in maintaining stability in life. Unfortunately, there are times when everything hits me all at once and the only defense is anger. This is one of those times. Hmm... Perhaps I can wear the MDRs for a while longer. The importance to my state of mind is beginning to outweigh any physical discomfort. I will switch to the other system soon, but for now I am engulfed in memories, loss and very deep depression. The wave must be embraced for as long as possible today. I am beginning to feel like nothing more than glue... AGAIN. This will be very bad for those around me. Remember that. Shitty Monday morning. End of line." 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Day Twenty-Seven Mature content No. 416 Published July 1st, 2024 7:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "‘...for the same reason you shut everyone else out: You’re afraid they won’t like what they see.’ Interesting, and likely very common. Today is still Sunday. The previous essay came to an end because I don’t want the line count getting out of control. I am still sitting here at the table with my loving cocktail and keyboard; the program of choice over there on the right-hand display. The IDE is to my left, in case anyone gives a shit. Eighty-one inches of screen real estate is very nice. I used to have two, and one of the displays was over forty-six inches across the diagonal (many years ago), and that was the configuration of the previous desktop system. In building this one, I decided to keep the height to a minimum rather than having one frame looming large above the other. The machine can drive four, but I like the view out the window. There is a gap just big enough for me to see the trees, hills and sky. The view conjures thoughts of... A road trip. Sometimes when I have lunch, I let the cats relax on the sofa and eat here in the office. While doing so, I maximize the center browser window and explore maps of places I have been, along with others I’d like to either repeat or see for the first time. The map technology these days is fucking amazing and allows me to research all sorts of locations from my chair. The upside is being able to plan routes and stopovers, while the downside is realizing that I may never see some of them. In the previous entry I mentioned my dad’s tools. Well, he was a huge proponent of road trips, and likely the main influence for the way I feel about driving through beautiful places and seeing everything first-hand rather than flying to a destination and missing out on the closeup visits to landmarks, scenery or other places that are unseen from tens of thousands of feet in elevation. Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of reasons to take a plane on vacation. I just feel that anything enticing within the western states should be seen from the car. There are historic details that cannot be appreciated from the air. I really need a road trip, and not the simple, overnight excursions I’ve enjoyed this year. The highways between here and the capitol have been treaded so many times that I know every exit by rote. The same goes for the southern half of California. I need to go further... Into the deserts of Nevada and beyond, like the southern half of Utah where the landscape has not changed in more than ten thousand years. Maybe I’ll see it again. Maybe I won’t. Time to get a few things done. 1306. Well, I blasted some music, which is integral for the process of tree trimming. That is finished. I also have a head start on the garbage business. I decided to have a little snack before going further with my housework. 1529. Everything is finished aside from rolling the totes to the curb. I may toss a few more items into the trash, so they can wait until a bit later. There is enough laundry for one load, too. I may do that tomorrow during the morning quiet time. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Moreover, the memories I’ve dredged up regarding Andrea and Ashley are cutting me up inside. Not just today, but ever since writing somewhat of a realization some years ago that remains unpublished for good reason. I tried to discuss the matter with one other person, and while my words were taken to heart, the full understanding did not happen due to my being a tad ambiguous at the time. I just couldn’t get myself to reveal everything I felt for fear of ostracizing myself and alienating the listener. At the time, there was only one pair of ears available (now gone for good) and the risk was far too great. Well, now that there is no one left, the only thing I can do is try to understand the whole shitaree on my own. This is something that dates all the way back to the period following my exit from the Marines in the eighties. That is a long fucking time for anything to linger, let alone an aspect of living with such dire and long-term consequences. I think Julie had her breasts enlarged sometime between this series and years later when she appeared on the Hallmark Channel in a Christmas movie. As a male, I don’t fully understand the reasoning, yet at the same time I know precisely how males view the opposite sex and all of the negative ramifications therein. I was told by a very wise person that society’s fascination and preoccupation with ‘size’ was manufactured and solidified over time by males. If true, the fact would not be surprising. Anyway, returning to the other topic, I don’t know what to do and everything is stuck inside me like the information is being held by the worst possible super glue. Layer upon layer... Years of it. One layer glued atop the last. Nothing goes away. The problems continue to build upon themselves. Layers. Perpetual layers, to be sure. ‘Permanence’. It’s not just a spell anymore. Ashley altered the way I think on a daily basis, how I ‘see’ other people, and pretty much garnered the top award for being unique, second place having been awarded to the Raven. Her stance was mostly related to the whole of society, whereas Ashley educated me about the way she felt toward the sexes. Our conversations continue to ring inside me as if we just spoke days ago, and keep in mind that I spent time with that doll more than two decades ago. She changed everything, literally. EVERYTHING. Now? Not a day goes by without something reminding me of her views. And? Not a single fucking soul with whom I’ve had contact in twenty years thinks anywhere near along the same lines. Isn’t that just peachy? Am I paying the fucking tab? Sometimes I believe all this pain is for a dead solid reason, and I am not just referring to the first shit situation. There has to be more. From the eighties until now... Is that enough time to define an era? I miss her. I also find myself missing the 1236 period. Some programs that I watch from time to time remind me of the beginning of high-definition television (for me, anyway) and how it changed the way I looked at the screen. There was awe, wonder, and a measure of hope for the future of the medium. The episode that is playing right now, in fact, was originally seen by me back in aught-six, a time when the image quality was new and beautiful. Now? Too much has progressed – much like mobile phones that plateaued some years ago due to everything being the ‘same’ – and the wonder is no longer available. I really miss that whole era. The apartment was super comfortable, I lived there during a time when my truck project went through many advancements, and the social aspect of living was much more rewarding and far less suspicious than the present. Eh... I’m sure years from now I’ll be commenting upon the way everything in life is right now and missing it, too. Perhaps that is the way of things. Well, I fucking hate it. Dinner may be ordered this evening unless I find the motivation to make some pasta sauce. The recipe is always in my head and very simple, the only aspect requiring much attention is adding extra water at the beginning so the dried spices and herbs can simmer for a couple of hours. Sometimes I add a handful of chopped kalamata olives for a kick. If I order dinner, it will be Chinese food from the magnificent restaurant at the north end of town. That means dinner for three nights and lunches in between. Not bad. It’s rather expensive, but seeing as one order adds up to so many meals, the cost is spread out quite a bit. Exciting, eh? This is one of the highlights of what my life has become. Along those lines, I have been considering bringing out one of the big car models to build on the dining table. I miss the process. Again... Very exciting. Oh, and they have produced yet another model since I last built any of them. It’s a fucking Ferrari consisting of more than 3800 pieces. That could be an adventure in and of itself. Time will tell. If I do begin to build one of the cars, the situation will probably bring me back in time a few years when I felt a little better than I do right now. Monday morning is here. Isn’t that great? Monday. Hmm... Let’s run a count real quick and see how the numbers shape up. This is roughly the 217th Monday since I stopped working full-time. Interesting. Years ago, Monday was not fun even though we generally took it easy with scheduling work at the beginning of each week. The weekends were precious and Monday represented the end of my comfort. Now? I have the house to myself, can keep everything nice and quiet, and work on whatever I wish. And the coffee... That’s one of those items I rarely enjoyed properly while working. I remember when I was little and waiting to go to school in the morning (fearfully, much of the time) and my dad was getting ready for work. I always wanted to go with him and help somehow because I knew it would be better than school. The only time I was able to tag along was on a Saturday. School took priority. Well, look at the current situation as opposed to when I was young or years later working every day at what was often a very toilsome job. I don’t have to go anywhere except the occasional shopping. There is no school anymore. There is no work anymore. Aside from my few responsibilities, I can do pretty much whatever I wish while at home. One might believe the situation is very advantageous, and they would be correct. Had I been working for the last four years, I’d be a very unpleasant person, in much better physical shape, and likely more suicidal than I am right now. I was routed and did not like it one bit. I am still routed, however. Just in a different way. Squished, too. I can’t do anything about that shit, but I can sit here and appreciate the time I have today. By the way, I did accompany my dad to work... Once while he was manager of quality in the defense electronics industry, he brought me along on a Saturday. I loved it. Zoe caught me severely upside the head 0816. Coffee. The sun is trying to break through the marine layer. The temperature is already fairly warm outside, too, so perhaps I can open the house and get some fresh air in here. Oy... The driver just missed my gray can and emptied all the rest on the street. Ugh. I’ll have to make a call. Anyway, my routine will be very quick today thanks to ordering dinner last night. There is very little cleanup in the kitchen. Maybe with all of the extra time I’ll have today, I can get into one of the car models for a while. The morning has already been a depressing disaster, so I may as well do something enjoyable and relax. Sitting at the dining table with all the parts organized and spread out combined with a nice cocktail and the television was one of my favorite scenes. I’ve built all five models more than once and will be doing it again just for comfort. I’d like to get that new Ferrari, but my God is it ever expensive. Maybe another time. I called about the trash can. Hopefully, the driver will return this morning. The last time my can was missed, they sent a truck the following morning. That’s fine, but I would prefer it to be emptied today. 0941. I have to break out of the bad feelings and memories so I can move on with the day’s business. I really don’t enjoy being made to feel this way by external forces, especially considering there are very few individuals left alive with whom I could take issue. One family member is included in that group, meaning I have no one off which to bounce my thoughts about the past. When the coffee is gone, I’ll take care of the daily business and then head in whatever direction seems best. I may or may not end up at the dining table with a car model. The jury is still out on that idea. Sometimes I feel like I need to be more productive rather than sitting and working on a frivolous project, although there is nothing wrong with relaxing at times. I take care of every aspect of this household, so maybe I will talk myself into building a car. Right now I just don’t know. Ah, shit... Here comes Cara and her amazing facial features. Damn. She is stunning even with tears in her eyes. Chris was an idiot because Cara was fucking wonderful in every way. Whatever. They are not real anyway. They are on the screen, forever in the past, and not real. The rest are gone. I need to get away from this. Tuesday has arrived with zero fanfare and my head full of loss. I can’t help it. Yesterday was very relaxing because I indeed broke out the model and began building it once again. Hours I spent on the thing with my show in the background. I was unconcerned about any other work because the model kept me both comfortable and full of enjoyment. That is one of the little things I mention from time to time, but sitting for hours like that is not always a good idea. Dinner was just leftovers, meaning easy prep and not much cleanup. I’ll have the kitchen finished fairly quickly this morning. And speaking of yesterday, the garbage company did send a truck during the early afternoon to empty the cart that had been missed during the early morning. Very good. I don’t need any delays when it comes to the gray can because it is the smallest they offer. One week is about the limit. Anyway, I have yet to know what today may have in store for my mind. The woman playing piano at the psychiatric facility in this episode has a fucking gorgeous chest. Her sweater is ideal for showing off the beautifully round shape of her breasts. They are not overly large or out of proportion, yet prominent. That look is so fucking attractive when connected to the right type of frame, I swear I could stare at her in that scene all day long. Just a thought. Damn. Onward with whatever the fuck I am doing. I’ll begin the routine soon, pour a huge glass of whiskey, and then see how I feel about the rest of the day. Christina’s chest will fade away soon enough. Everything fades except memories and Jamie. I am in love with her. Well, if I know what the phrase actually means, that is. I’ve stated that I love her for a very long time. To be completely honest, I really don’t know what that word means, either. I was told something very interesting many years ago. ‘Love is just a word. What that word represents can be different for everyone.’ I have no fucking idea, but I will say that when I see her beautiful, emotional pools of wonder (eyes), there is a deep-seated instantaneous need for her to hold me. Whatever that is, I don’t know or care. That is how I feel after all these years. Jamie is above all things in the universe for me, even the Passion. This is fucking stupid. Let’s take care of some housework, shall we? 1122. I finished the routine and sorted a ton of paperwork that needed to be divided between tossing into the recycle bin straight away or shredding and then recycling. Ooh-fa. This takes place from time to time because I often receive a load of paperwork from the City requiring scrutiny. Since I am good at such operations, I’m trusted with the paperwork. Many people – mostly those who throw boxes next to their recycle bin or end up with cardboard three feet above the lid – do not have the patience or inclination to make things fit properly. They may also lack the time, although in my experience the time is there even if a person is busy. Motivation is the key. I took the time to completely separate the papers and envelopes and get them all stacked so they can be shredded in decent order. And there is Jamie in the second half of the sixth season. It doesn’t get much better than that. Anyway, when it comes to organization and garbage, I try to be as efficient as possible. Maximizing the trash and other cans saves money in the long run, too. Wednesday has arrived whether I like it or not. Sometime later this morning I need to head to three different stores. Ugh. At least when I arrive home again I’ll feel much better. This is easy stuff, for sure, yet for whatever reason I always end up nervous, and I am not referring to the possibility of seeing something special. My head is not in that particular space today because of depression and disillusionment. Whatever changed a couple of years ago (or was it last year?) is really taking its toll upon my psyche and has left me even less motivated than I could have predicted. Day-to-day activities do not appear rewarding like they once did. This situation has had more negative effects on my heart than anything else, and that includes a distinct lack of understanding from the right person. I’ll go and do the shopping and then return, after which I’ll take care of the very quick routine like yesterday. I am so down in the dumps right now that I must head out soon, lest my mood gets the best of me and I end up without those items I need for tonight and this weekend. I am making salads again because there is a birthday dinner uptown on Saturday and everyone likes the way my salads taste. That means soaking beans and boiling beets tomorrow in order to create both dishes on Friday. I will not let anyone down just because I am having serious problems inside. They have nothing to do with my condition. Maybe when I return from the drive I can finally move a few components here on the table and get that nagging project out of the way. I’d like my wristwatches to find the WWVB signal at night so they can be corrected. The box must be nearer to the window in order for that to happen, so I’ve decided to move the RAID system and disc reader to the top of the safe which is to my right. That will open lots of space atop the table. Everything – even the simplest, ten-minute tasks – feels nearly impossible these days. I find myself caring less and less with the passage of time. I know that once I am gone, none of this shit will matter anymore. 1156. I am back from the shopping trip and already knocked out the routine. That means two positives are apparent. One is the fatass cocktail sitting here next to me, and the other is having the rest of the day to myself. And yes, there were wondrous things to see at the produce market. Remember the Asian girl that hit me upside the head last month? There was another, albeit she was slightly different. I saw one amazing form in the parking lot, too, but only for a few seconds as I walked toward the entrance. As I said earlier, my head is not aligned with much of that type of thinking this morning, so neither really caused much of a problem. I have other, much larger concerns these days. Internal shit, really... Problems more difficult to deal with than some random female form out there in society. There will always be something to see, meaning I expect disaster almost all the time. The processes that are chewing me up inside are far greater considerations and much more important. The bottom line is I am beginning to believe that shortly after the first damaging dream, the change I often reference was the actual end of living. I am also starting to see that without the proper understanding or a dramatic alteration to life, there is nothing I can do about it. Thursday morning and I am thinking about yesterday’s massive pitfall and what I can do to change it. I am also concerned that I am powerless to deal with the purity and related emotions, and seeing as there has been yet another reminder of the past, the difficulty has multiplied tenfold. There is little anger right now, and that is a good thing. The truth is I am far too sad and depressed to become angry right now. Seeing things in my sleep is tough sometimes because I end up completely invested in such situations and end up slammed by reality and another reminder of the fucking purity, the sum result being me unable to function properly. There are other factors, but I can’t point them out here. Even without publishing, I can’t have certain information flying off this keyboard. The dreams are bad enough. I don’t need the purity piled atop the already desperate and dire feelings. I am barely alive right now. On the upside, I need not leave the house today at all. Yesterday’s shopping trip was ok, I guess, and though I saw some beautiful sights, I made it through the entire three-store affair with few problems. The interesting part is not actually leaving and driving there, it is considering leaving earlier in the morning. The feeling is akin to some weight sitting on my shoulders and I really don’t like that shit. No such feelings are within me this morning. That’s very good. The other shit is beginning to affect me and I don’t need anything else on top of it right now. Memories are bad enough, and when added to the purity and all its inherent factors and considerations, I am seeing my life running out... Ending. As I said above, more than two years have passed since that first dream and some alteration to my being that I don’t fully understand, and I now see that the process was a line that I crossed. Between the dream (a dramatic change in the way I was thinking each day) and becoming concerned about the purity (a part of life that I had rarely considered in serious terms because it was not necessary), I have been caught off-guard in a very unexpected way and see that everything good, fulfilling or enjoyable is actually behind me. Sometime earlier this morning while I slept, the latest reminder of this straight road into oblivion came along and took away my comfort. I am still feeling the loss several hours later. This shit is going to ruin my morning and I fucking hate it. I don't know who the woman on the right is, but... she carries the same facial trait as Roxanne 1034. The laundry is in process and my daily housework is out of the way. I’ve been rerouting cables in order to move the RAID system to the top of the safe, and the process is tedious. I need to find a two-meter ethernet cable before rebooting the drives, though. The next time I place an Amazon order, it will be included. The disc reader will sit atop the RAID as it did before. As for the rest of the control center, I believe everything is in place and about as organized as it can be considering the complexity. My watch box will soon reside here on the table (along with its charge lamp) so the receivers can connect to the WWVB during the night. The box sat in the same place years ago and operated just fine, so no worries. As for the hours ahead, I only have little tasks to complete. I may have to take a drive to the smaller market for some creamer. That’s an easy one aside from possibly seeing the woman named Jamie behind the register. That fact caught me upside the head like a fucking brick. And yes, there is a nice cold glass of booze next to me. Big surprise. I only know her name because she recognized me after shopping at that place for the last four years, the natural extension of which is typically to ask the person’s name. I haven’t been there in months, so perhaps she will not recall my name, but hers is tattooed on my brain thanks to the love of my life. I bought a used 11/32” 12-point combination wrench on eBay and the seller sent an industrial 6-point version. It’s no big deal to me, but I may have to contact them in case the mistake messes up another of their auctions. Very interesting. I rarely receive incorrect orders, and that is saying a lot considering I’ve been buying and selling on eBay for 25 years. My other wrenches also showed up and they are fantastic. The tool set continues to grow, albeit at a very low cost thanks to the fact that I’ve been purchasing older and better made tools from the seventies and eighties. Friday morning. Coffee. Quiet. Time to think. And boy do I ever need lots of it today. I saw another example of the end-all be-all of beauty as combined with the last bastion of human endeavor. Rolled into one slender frame, she took me from myself as I realized her eyes were dead-on correct. Not like the race girl’s eyes, yet not too far off, either. This woman shook me to the core and it was only partially due to her physical appearance. Personality came through everything I was seeing like a fucking freight train, and I could feel the precise type of individual that she is... From the inside out. Believe it. I felt it. This is a huge problem. No sooner did she begin to speak when I felt it... I sensed that she would understand and ‘know’ everything without prejudice; without judgment. Perhaps even with nary a thought to the negative. She was wonderful to see and even better to feel. I’ve known for years – all the way back to when I manufactured ‘Jaime’ just to keep myself going from one day to the next when my world was falling apart – that the possibility of the right type of person is out there, somewhere. She will never be near to me, yet I can’t deny the feeling that there are just too many people in the world for her not to exist at all. Well, the woman from this morning conveyed more to me than anyone else throughout the past decade-plus, and she did it from afar. I’ve seen little tidbits and examples here and there, leaving the idea of some of them rolled into the same person seemingly impossible. There have been too many different ideas and traits for me to believe they could combine, ever. Certain factors do stand out and drive me up the fucking wall, but I must maintain the standpoint of a person who realizes there has been far too much fantasy dictating what I’ve been trying to find in reality. Those fucking factors have become beacons at times, pushing me to force the idea that maybe there truly is something out there that can help me and answer the questions, yet at the same time those very same factors also feel completely impossible, or akin to the idea that due to the wondrous nature of such living ways, I most decidedly do not deserve them. The woman I saw this morning quickly became the antithesis of my desperate nature by conveying enough through her eyes to inform me that this fucking search may not be fruitless. At the same time, I also believe the rarity of her type cannot be denied. Not even a little bit. And remember, I am not just referring to her appearance. The personality is far more powerful. Regardless, I grabbed a couple of images so I could stare. The problems related to seeing her this morning will continue to increase in severity. I already know that much because I have a very difficult time understanding what she broadcasted while appearing so fucking stunning that I should have beat myself over the head with a hammer. Personality took me from myself and sent me into another world... One in which I could actually be ok. Is that woman the answer? Wait... There is more than one question. The not-so-obvious of which is... ‘Do my feelings even matter?’ She is just a person and I am fascinated with what I saw and felt. In the real world, however, I don’t believe there is anything that can be done about such feelings, nor can I sit here and actually justify the way I view the world and its inhabitants in general, and a woman like her in particular. I am far too out of balance to actually connect with a single fucking soul from now until the end of time. All I can do is look at her, feel whatever I feel, and then fall on my face again knowing that there is nothing left for me. The more I think about what happened this morning, the less I believe I can make it through life much longer. Her face was the key. The face is always key because that is the place where personality comes through, and no level of physical beauty can do the same. Period. Form can only go so far. Julie looks a bit scary sometimes when she raises just the right-hand eyebrow, forcing a bit of an inverted ‘v’ above. It’s not a Spock thing, either. She has her own trademark that is there to inform others of whenever she is not to be trifled. Cute and scary at the same time, for sure. I have to make salads today. All the preparations were completed yesterday in good time, so now I have to construct each dish so they can chill in the refrigerator overnight. I also need to fucking think about things today; the woman, my place in the world, the rest of my life (however long that may be), and any fucking project or aspect of living I can embrace that has even a slice of the level of power required to distract me from who and what I have become. Not much to ask, eh? The name of the woman over whom I’ve gone goo-ga is Zoe. Very interesting. And there is a woman in this episode named Jamie who carries as much stunning beauty as she does menacing, fear-inducing facial expressions. Wow. There can be no doubt that I have a ‘thing’ for female names beginning with the letter ‘j’, and Jamie is at the top of the list for good reason. Another example of that name combined with a fucking amazing, slender form from the gods and gorgeous, dark eyes is not what I need right now. I am certifiable. I know it because I just spent ten minutes securing some very large, detailed images of Zoe’s unbelievable face. Certifiable. No doubt. While I watched her on the television this morning, the torment reared its head almost immediately. I became distraught because I knew she was real but could not do anything about it. I need to scream from the rooftop... I have to scream my feelings due to being so out of balance and desperate to let her know just how much she moved me in the space of thirty fucking seconds. I HAVE TO TELL HER. I can’t, and it hurts. The rarity of a face and a pair of eyes transmitting so much emotion into my heart cannot be overstated. Nothing at this level has occurred to me since the race girl, believe it or not. I need to cease this topic for a little while. 0919. I am already mentally and emotionally out of fucking gas today and there is quite a bit to be done. One step at a time, I suppose. I don’t know why I included the logo below. Maybe I just felt it for some reason. 1035. My daily routine is finished and the beans are simmering. They will be on the stove until just before one this afternoon, and that after soaking overnight. Beans are cement until such a process. Heh. Anyway, from here forward I can check on the pot and add water as necessary, in and around everything else I do. Well, if I do anything, that is. This morning is still taking its toll on my psyche because the event was both unexpected and crippling. I already had enough reasons to apply my solution and really did not need anything else piled atop that shit. Moreover, the woman (Jamie) that appears in ten episodes of this program is driving me up the fucking wall due to her very unique facial structure – a wide, flat mouth, full lips and elongated, slender nose – the type to which I have been highly attracted for decades. Well, combine all that stuff with long, dark, wavy hair and very dark eyes and the sum is far more than I can take without losing my fucking mind. I need to check on the beans. Ah... They are doing fine. Another half hour may find me adding water. Anyway, I really wish I could go into more detail regarding my feelings for such beauty (and the damned names), but published or not, I can’t expose myself to any possible, hellish backlash. This shit predates the damaging dreams but is related nonetheless. Everything is related, and that’s not an exaggeration. I am slowly losing reasons to go on living. One idea that came to mind which may help me today is to continue building the model car. I’ve not touched it for a few days because the idea to capture more images came to mind, and that means it has to remain partially built in order to expose the colorful nature of the car at its present stage. I can combine pizza for lunch and some time working on the car in the hopes of extricating Zoe and Jamie from my head for a while. One humorous thought just popped into my fucked-up brain... After watching the debate last night and considering options for the upcoming election, I believe my condition takes priority over any prospect of this nation being led by the appropriate type of person. In addition, I often lament the loss of the past and complain about the way the world is right now. Technology has become boring and expected, there are two significant, horrible wars taking place on the other side of the world and threatening to divide the rest to the point of yet another, larger war, and hope for the future seems to be at an all-time low. All that shit has combined to force me to think that perhaps we need to vote for the more reckless candidate just so the end of the world arrives sooner. Once the population is obliterated, nothing else can come along to worsen everything. Jesus fucking hell is Jamie ever unique. I had forgotten about her for a very long time, or at least since I watched this program in its entirety. Looking at her is very painful. So, whatever the result this fall, I don’t believe improvement is on our horizon. It’s just not possible anymore. All I can do is sit here and watch it all play out, at the same time watching my hope diminish. If the theater of war expands, it may be the last occasion of such a thing for humankind. As I said, all I can do is wait and watch, good or bad. My heart skips a beat every time this logo hits the screen I sold the race tickets last month because I’ve become disillusioned with the event. For the last decade, I renewed the seats and parking pass during the early morning at the track because it was very easy and usually yielded some kind of gift, and several of them have been very useful. Renewal was always a part of the morning when the track was quiet. I paid a deposit and moved on with the day. Part of the reason was to support the sport and venue. Selling was not an easy decision, either, mostly due to having so much history attending the event as it dated all the way back to the late nineties when my dad and I visited together. We were at the very first, believe it or not. So, as my feelings have changed in recent years, I went through the entire process of bank and tax information along with listing this year’s tickets for sale, and lo and behold someone bought them. I was paid some days ago and very satisfied with the affair. But... I just grabbed today’s mail and they sent me a parking pass. Unbelievable. I guess I’ll just add it to the collection. I would have thought that they knew not to send a pass because I have no event tickets. I guess not. Will I miss being there? A little bit. The venue and structure of the race are very different from the past. Last year I opted to bring the big camera and spend time in the pits and surrounding area rather than following along with each match, and for the most part it was quite rewarding. I captured some really nice images in and around the race cars and supporting vehicles. Unfortunately, my brain kept seeing the differences from past events and the way things are done at present. I don’t fucking like it at all. This is just one more reason to abhor social changes that have pervaded the world in recent years. Everything is tightened, regulated and/or otherwise trivialized to the point of becoming completely ridiculous. I may not attend that event ever again. Progress is one of my key enemies. The worst part of what happened early this morning is that my heart became involved almost immediately. Physical desire is nowhere near as dangerous as emotional need. Believe it. Time will dictate where I go from here. Very bad. I was already weak enough. I didn’t need more shit piled atop this fucked up condition. 1405. I am exhausted. Both salads are finished (one is cooling) and the kitchen and stove are clean for the second time today. As pleased as I am to have that stuff finished, the inside of my head is still plenty screwed up. Ah, shit... The squareheads actually came to the door a moment ago. Interesting, considering I left them on the side of the information superhighway some months back. And? My garage door is open, meaning they likely saw the new mural – all sixty square feet of it – and I’d love to have been able to catch the reaction. Unfortunately, I am no longer interested in speaking to people. I will have to live with the mystery. Besides, I didn’t create that work of art for anyone other than myself. It is there for good reason and I am the only one who knows of the genesis. I was asked some weeks ago during one of the errant garage gatherings (not much to my liking) of the meaning, my reply being cryptic but not entirely veiled: It is meant as a question; a prayer of sorts. Anyway, I won’t answer the door when they visit anymore. If it happens that I’m outside, I’ll just come across in a manner they do not appreciate. My world may be less than six thousand square feet, but it’s under my control and will remain as such until I say otherwise. And speaking of the garage again, the other day I relocated my thermometer to the window covering and wired it. I need to move the smaller lighted platform to the opposite corner one of these days so it can eventually hold the large Goose bottle once I empty it. As for being so fucking tired, I don’t know what happened. It’s unusual for me to run out of gas so dramatically this early, but I feel really drained. Whatever the reason, I need to take it easy. All that garage and shed stuff will have to wait. At least I have a head start on tomorrow’s stuff. The morning should be very quiet. No drive is required of me until Sunday. That is a relaxing thought. Saturday morning is here on the heels of a comfortable Friday night. I had to run to the market at six this morning for cream and a couple of other items that I overlooked yesterday. I used to be on the very early shift back when I was working, remember? Laundry and trips to the store began an hour earlier than I was out the door today. That was cool at the time. As for this morning, I do enjoy seeing the store so empty and making the trip in record time as opposed to the afternoon. I have hours to myself due to no driving this morning, and I fully intend to take advantage of each second. The occasion is a birthday dinner at the other end of town as we do from time to time, hence the salads. I have eight hours between now and then. Jamie number two is on the screen again, all dark and mysterious, leggy and scary. She is something to see, let me tell you. Last night was Jolene, although I maintained my composure aside from blowing kisses at the screen from time to time. I already realize I am fucked in the head, so typing that phrase does not seem so out out of balance. There are other thoughts in my head which go far beyond simple gestures of infatuation. Believe it. And as for Jamie number one, the goddess of the universe and love of my life (whatever that last part actually means), I tried to complete the gangster series, but the site still has an issue with playback. I took care of streamlining everything – cache, cookies, bandwidth, hardware acceleration, etc. – and still it fucks up too often for me to sit comfortably and watch with any semblance of attention. I wish I could identify the issue. The current site has been streaming on and off for weeks without any problems whatsoever, as has one other site. I just don’t understand. I will keep trying. Alternatively, I can always finish the series on the theatre system in the living room. That equipment rarely exhibits any issues. Isn’t all this just fucking super exciting? My life... Such as it is. The morning is very quiet other than the dialog from this program. Tomorrow I’ll be driving at this hour, but the trip comes and goes quickly on Sundays. Regardless of the simplicity of that drive, I am overjoyed to have a longer morning than most weekends. I have no idea of what I am going to do with the extra time, either. Oh, boy... Sex on the display. It will be over soon enough. That is one of the aspects of what used to be called ‘pay television’ that seemed fascinating when I was young. Now? It’s just a break in the storyline and quite often completely unnecessary other than to entice the audience. Well, I don’t react as they may wish. Anyway, my coffee will be finished far earlier than usual, leaving me with more options and no idea of which way to turn. That’s fine. I’d rather have too much time than the opposite. I used to hate being in a hurry because it was a daily and often hourly occurrence when I was working. I guess years of that shitty situation jaded me. The morning will move along very slowly, just as I prefer, and in case you may have been wondering, Jennifer displays chiclets sometimes. Curious, my weekends used to be precious because of work, mostly due to being pushed and pulled with nary a second to gather my thoughts. At present, I’ve been away from work for more than four years and still relish each morning and the fact that I am rarely pressed in any particular direction other than that which I choose. Some may believe I’d eventually tire of being home all the time. Nope. I have good days and bad days, but I’d rather be here for the bad than in some fucked up building anywhere else. Right now the time is only 0742 and I can decide which way to turn... And when. ‘Hearing is the first thing to go. Or is it memory? I always forget.’ – SAIC Lundy, FBI (Keith Carradine) I remember when he starred in ‘The Long Riders’ with two of his brothers way back in nineteen eighty. That was a fantastic movie by the great Walter Hill. It’s subjective, of course, and will never appeal to everyone. Hill was fucking brutal. David, Keith and Robert Carradine portrayed the Younger brothers, along with James and Stacy Keach as Jesse and Frank James, respectively. Do I need to mention Dennis and Randy Quaid or Nicholas and Christopher Guest? All of the brothers in the film are brothers in real life. Awesome. I need to cease the practice of having lunch here at the table while browsing maps. I keep looking at both places I’ve been and wish to see, but the underlying feeling is that I will never have the opportunity again to explore those stirring places. I will typically sit here until I’m finished eating, and by that point I become saddened over the loss of my ability to go places. The circumstance is partially by design, seeing that I try to avoid people as much as possible, yet at the same time I really need to get the fuck out of here and marvel at the wonder of the west. Walking away from this table partially depressed because I can’t go anywhere is not going to help matters as they already are. I have to stop that practice. Fictional video media is fine. The maps are not. My upbringing was littered with road trips because my dad loved to travel and see new places. I am concerned that such things are all over for me. Looking at the world via maps is only going to make me sad. It has to end. Between the sheer number of entries written since I stopped working (298 as of last count), and having repeated myself ‘eight ways from Sunday’, I really don’t know what else to say here. That is the main reason for the vast exposition of what I do from one day to the next, along with a million references to what I have seen in the world or during whatever programs I’ve watched. None of this is terribly exciting, I realize, but what the fuck else am I going to do? Beauty moves me more than ever before, my future continues to be forcibly narrowed between those fucking converging lines, and my life is truncated and simplified a little bit more with each passing day. What the fuck else am I supposed to do? Almost, but still not real 1003. Cocktail hour has arrived on the heels of completing my daily routine and having a light snack. Dinner will be early, like always, so lunch is unnecessary. I don’t have to leave the house until roughly four hours from now. Aside from cleaning up a bit, there is little to do in preparation for the birthday shindig. The plan is to sit here and gather my thoughts, positive or negative as they may be. I have an item being delivered between two and six, so I’ll have to ask my neighbor to grab it off the porch if I’m already gone when it arrives. Jennifer’s chiclets are showing again. So cute. Ooh-fa... Jamie’s character is evil and unhinged right now. That’s fucking sad because she is unbelievably beautiful and alluring. Whatever. Usually, this time of day finds me considering lunch options, but the early dinner has put the kibosh to such plans. I’ll enjoy the visit, like always, and then arriving home afterward should prove very rewarding. Tomorrow is Sunday and I always enjoy taking care of business and getting everything ready for a new week. I have lots to do tomorrow, so perhaps I can get a head start on a few tasks today before leaving for the north end of town. Motivation has not been forthcoming since finishing my routine earlier. I honestly don’t know what to do other than sit here and type. The same program is still running on my right-hand display, full of Jamie’s scary beauty and other aspects of life I usually avoid. At least I know the story after having run through this series more than once since inception. Incidentally, I originally watched it during the 1236 period when picture clarity was still amazing. I will avoid a tirade. I must point out, however, that anything new and exciting will eventually fade, and the HD did just that after becoming accustomed to such quality. Now? HD is old hat, 4K seems to be the big deal, yet both have been overshadowed by two facts. First, all of the digital enhancements and motion effects typically make movies appear like video, and second, just because something is ‘new’ does not necessarily mean it is an improvement. Technology is constantly pushed regardless of how such changes may affect the end user. For myself, everything peaked roughly nineteen years ago. To this very day, when I am watching something that was originally shot on film, it had better resemble film. Otherwise, why go to the effort? Eh... I am the only person who analyzes to this level of depth. No one else seems to give a shit anymore. So long as I have complete control over picture quality, any further commentary is unnecessary. For example, my current television in the living room is five years old and all of the motion enhancements are turned off. My next television may prove to be more difficult to manipulate. I don’t want the warmth of actual film, having been bastardized by digitalization, to appear as crystal-clear video. Film is a tangible medium that one can hold in their hands, whereas everything else is just memory. And? This is yet another paragraph in a long line that has lost its way. I liked the way things ‘were’ as opposed to the way they ‘are’. Everything has been reduced; boiled down to the bare minimum of what was once called ‘interesting’. Sunday morning, 0809. The drive was fine. I don’t like people anymore and no longer want to be around them, and the feeling includes driving on streets and highways near others. The upcoming holiday will not include yours truly other than flying the requisite flags on the front of the house. I’ve become far too disillusioned for a celebration of any kind. I have to do my own thing and force them to wonder what I am doing and why, as Mr. Wagner used to say. A little piece of the structure which holds me together cracked and then broke last night and I decided that the time has come to go about my life differently. I’ll take care of everything within which I’ve already been involved and to which I’ve been committed for years, of course, but as for the rest, I can take no more of the way society views itself, nor can I continue to align with certain days or events. The holiday is in four days. I’m going to work on my truck while everyone else is focused upon their ridiculous and ill-begotten plans to outdo their neighbors and prove that they are the world champions of spending (and subsequently burning to ash) their money. I can’t fucking do it anymore and it’s important that others see the difference. Well, there are no guarantees of anything, really. All I can do is try. If I am asked, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. I was here before and beginning this morning I will not be here anymore. Ask and you shall not receive. I am certain that little, nagging issues have been piling atop one another for long enough for me to finally put the kibosh to as much involvement in the world as possible. Oh, I’ve tried over and over, yet something always comes along to make me smile just enough to relax my stance and bearing a little bit, and then later the feeling expands and I find myself right back where it all began. Not this time. I am going to remain guarded and unavailable as much as possible, this morning being the very beginning of the alteration. As I said, the possibility is that when everything hit me in the head last night as I tried to sleep, I made the decision to finally put all of my skills to work and change the way people see me. I suppose this was inevitable and would happen eventually. This is the day. Today. The little things will reflect my mood. The flags are out and one of them is indicative of the elusive forest. It might help me today. Maybe nothing will help. I can’t know at this point. The site is still offline and will remain unavailable until such time that my mood improves, if that is possible anymore. The hosting is roughly halfway through its cycle, and if I don’t feel any better later this year, it will expire and everything will disappear. This coffee is not agreeing with me like other days. I don’t know what’s wrong. Cocktail hour will probably help in more ways than one. We go... 1031. I trimmed the roses, moved the cans to the garage, and took care of the daily routine. It is indeed cocktail hour, thank fucking Christ. The music of life – including the soaring, stirring track that the Raven loved; the album conjures thoughts and a mood related to isolation, destruction and cultural derealization – has been following me through the mighty wireless MDRs at every step of the way. This will continue, as opposed to one of my programs on the three televisions, for the remainder of the day. At some point I’ll have to switch from headphones to the audio system in the garage because I can only wear these for a few hours at a time before I get tired of the weight on my head. The wireless MDRs are nearly as comfortable as the wired set, yet they do eventually cause discomfort. I will say the wireless version of these excellent audio reproduction devices helps me work around the house and yard without announcing to the world that I am in a horrible, damaging mood. As for my feelings related to the fucking music, there is a huge difference. I rarely tire of hearing forest-minded compositions and the worlds they create. I need them to help me fucking live these days. Further, an electric bicycle was delivered yesterday while I was at the other end of town, and my neighbor grabbed the box, thankfully. We do that sometimes... Pick up the other’s packages for security. The only problem is I have to wait some hours to get it because he works through the night and sleeps during the day. No big deal. And the bike is not for me. I ordered it as a favor to someone else. Once it’s in the garage, I am to build and evaluate the machine and report back to the buyer. Testing an electric bicycle will be the enjoyable part. I am looking forward to the process. There is no particular hurry, and I am hoping to take possession later today. Seeing as much of my Sunday business is complete, the plan is to work on whatever is enjoyable rather than necessary. I am in no fucking mood for physical labor of any type, nor do I care to associate with anyone aside from one neighbor. He and I have similar attitudes toward society. The other half of the world, those who have ridiculous diets and drive electric vehicles because they believe it is the ‘right thing to do’ are nowhere near the same. They need to be left to their little worlds, just like me. Along such lines, the music of life is injecting thoughts of my time with the Raven into my angry, tired brain. She was the very definition of dark beauty, quite literally the most beautiful, stirring and alluring appearance in existence. This is going to be a very difficult day, mark my words. I should have died back in the year of fifteen. I should have fucking died. Now I am cemented like never before. I remember thinking that the year of eleven – the cave period – was the worst. No fucking way. The loss of the Raven stands head and shoulders above any other fucking era. Of that there can be no doubt. This is going to be a two-cocktail morning, good or bad as the situation may transpire. Jesus fucking Christ on a cross... I miss Her so much that the pain still runs deep. No one understood; no one understands. They never will. Only She knew it all. The cloud application into which I have been writing for years now boasts an AI-driven summary system. I am overjoyed to no fucking end because with such a tool I can go back in time to some of the nonfiction – as I did when enrolled in an online college rife with very helpful writing tools – and make adjustments to some of the grammar and structure. That is fucking amazing. AI may be a huge point of contention around the globe right now, but some aspects are extremely beneficial. I plan to take full advantage of such a service. Today is day 33. Today is also day 3260. I may have died years ago and just didn’t realize the state of things. This is a very bad day, but there are positives. My work around the house is very helpful in maintaining stability in life. Unfortunately, there are times when everything hits me all at once and the only defense is anger. This is one of those times. Hmm... Perhaps I can wear the MDRs for a while longer. The importance to my state of mind is beginning to outweigh any physical discomfort. I will switch to the other system soon, but for now I am engulfed in memories, loss and very deep depression. The wave must be embraced for as long as possible today. I am beginning to feel like nothing more than glue... AGAIN. This will be very bad for those around me. Remember that. Shitty Monday morning. End of line."
Day Twenty-Seven
Mature content No. 416 Published July 1st, 2024 7:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"‘...for the same reason you shut everyone else out: You’re afraid they won’t like what they see.’ Interesting, and likely very common. Today is still Sunday. The previous essay came to an end because I don’t want the line count getting out of control. I am still sitting here at the table with my loving cocktail and keyboard; the program of choice over there on the right-hand display. The IDE is to my left, in case anyone gives a shit. Eighty-one inches of screen real estate is very nice. I used to have two, and one of the displays was over forty-six inches across the diagonal (many years ago), and that was the configuration of the previous desktop system. In building this one, I decided to keep the height to a minimum rather than having one frame looming large above the other. The machine can drive four, but I like the view out the window. There is a gap just big enough for me to see the trees, hills and sky. The view conjures thoughts of... A road trip. Sometimes when I have lunch, I let the cats relax on the sofa and eat here in the office. While doing so, I maximize the center browser window and explore maps of places I have been, along with others I’d like to either repeat or see for the first time. The map technology these days is fucking amazing and allows me to research all sorts of locations from my chair. The upside is being able to plan routes and stopovers, while the downside is realizing that I may never see some of them. In the previous entry I mentioned my dad’s tools. Well, he was a huge proponent of road trips, and likely the main influence for the way I feel about driving through beautiful places and seeing everything first-hand rather than flying to a destination and missing out on the closeup visits to landmarks, scenery or other places that are unseen from tens of thousands of feet in elevation. Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of reasons to take a plane on vacation. I just feel that anything enticing within the western states should be seen from the car. There are historic details that cannot be appreciated from the air. I really need a road trip, and not the simple, overnight excursions I’ve enjoyed this year. The highways between here and the capitol have been treaded so many times that I know every exit by rote. The same goes for the southern half of California. I need to go further... Into the deserts of Nevada and beyond, like the southern half of Utah where the landscape has not changed in more than ten thousand years. Maybe I’ll see it again. Maybe I won’t. Time to get a few things done. 1306. Well, I blasted some music, which is integral for the process of tree trimming. That is finished. I also have a head start on the garbage business. I decided to have a little snack before going further with my housework. 1529. Everything is finished aside from rolling the totes to the curb. I may toss a few more items into the trash, so they can wait until a bit later. There is enough laundry for one load, too. I may do that tomorrow during the morning quiet time. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Moreover, the memories I’ve dredged up regarding Andrea and Ashley are cutting me up inside. Not just today, but ever since writing somewhat of a realization some years ago that remains unpublished for good reason. I tried to discuss the matter with one other person, and while my words were taken to heart, the full understanding did not happen due to my being a tad ambiguous at the time. I just couldn’t get myself to reveal everything I felt for fear of ostracizing myself and alienating the listener. At the time, there was only one pair of ears available (now gone for good) and the risk was far too great. Well, now that there is no one left, the only thing I can do is try to understand the whole shitaree on my own. This is something that dates all the way back to the period following my exit from the Marines in the eighties. That is a long fucking time for anything to linger, let alone an aspect of living with such dire and long-term consequences. I think Julie had her breasts enlarged sometime between this series and years later when she appeared on the Hallmark Channel in a Christmas movie. As a male, I don’t fully understand the reasoning, yet at the same time I know precisely how males view the opposite sex and all of the negative ramifications therein. I was told by a very wise person that society’s fascination and preoccupation with ‘size’ was manufactured and solidified over time by males. If true, the fact would not be surprising. Anyway, returning to the other topic, I don’t know what to do and everything is stuck inside me like the information is being held by the worst possible super glue. Layer upon layer... Years of it. One layer glued atop the last. Nothing goes away. The problems continue to build upon themselves. Layers. Perpetual layers, to be sure. ‘Permanence’. It’s not just a spell anymore. Ashley altered the way I think on a daily basis, how I ‘see’ other people, and pretty much garnered the top award for being unique, second place having been awarded to the Raven. Her stance was mostly related to the whole of society, whereas Ashley educated me about the way she felt toward the sexes. Our conversations continue to ring inside me as if we just spoke days ago, and keep in mind that I spent time with that doll more than two decades ago. She changed everything, literally. EVERYTHING. Now? Not a day goes by without something reminding me of her views. And? Not a single fucking soul with whom I’ve had contact in twenty years thinks anywhere near along the same lines. Isn’t that just peachy? Am I paying the fucking tab? Sometimes I believe all this pain is for a dead solid reason, and I am not just referring to the first shit situation. There has to be more. From the eighties until now... Is that enough time to define an era? I miss her. I also find myself missing the 1236 period. Some programs that I watch from time to time remind me of the beginning of high-definition television (for me, anyway) and how it changed the way I looked at the screen. There was awe, wonder, and a measure of hope for the future of the medium. The episode that is playing right now, in fact, was originally seen by me back in aught-six, a time when the image quality was new and beautiful. Now? Too much has progressed – much like mobile phones that plateaued some years ago due to everything being the ‘same’ – and the wonder is no longer available. I really miss that whole era. The apartment was super comfortable, I lived there during a time when my truck project went through many advancements, and the social aspect of living was much more rewarding and far less suspicious than the present. Eh... I’m sure years from now I’ll be commenting upon the way everything in life is right now and missing it, too. Perhaps that is the way of things. Well, I fucking hate it. Dinner may be ordered this evening unless I find the motivation to make some pasta sauce. The recipe is always in my head and very simple, the only aspect requiring much attention is adding extra water at the beginning so the dried spices and herbs can simmer for a couple of hours. Sometimes I add a handful of chopped kalamata olives for a kick. If I order dinner, it will be Chinese food from the magnificent restaurant at the north end of town. That means dinner for three nights and lunches in between. Not bad. It’s rather expensive, but seeing as one order adds up to so many meals, the cost is spread out quite a bit. Exciting, eh? This is one of the highlights of what my life has become. Along those lines, I have been considering bringing out one of the big car models to build on the dining table. I miss the process. Again... Very exciting. Oh, and they have produced yet another model since I last built any of them. It’s a fucking Ferrari consisting of more than 3800 pieces. That could be an adventure in and of itself. Time will tell. If I do begin to build one of the cars, the situation will probably bring me back in time a few years when I felt a little better than I do right now. Monday morning is here. Isn’t that great? Monday. Hmm... Let’s run a count real quick and see how the numbers shape up. This is roughly the 217th Monday since I stopped working full-time. Interesting. Years ago, Monday was not fun even though we generally took it easy with scheduling work at the beginning of each week. The weekends were precious and Monday represented the end of my comfort. Now? I have the house to myself, can keep everything nice and quiet, and work on whatever I wish. And the coffee... That’s one of those items I rarely enjoyed properly while working. I remember when I was little and waiting to go to school in the morning (fearfully, much of the time) and my dad was getting ready for work. I always wanted to go with him and help somehow because I knew it would be better than school. The only time I was able to tag along was on a Saturday. School took priority. Well, look at the current situation as opposed to when I was young or years later working every day at what was often a very toilsome job. I don’t have to go anywhere except the occasional shopping. There is no school anymore. There is no work anymore. Aside from my few responsibilities, I can do pretty much whatever I wish while at home. One might believe the situation is very advantageous, and they would be correct. Had I been working for the last four years, I’d be a very unpleasant person, in much better physical shape, and likely more suicidal than I am right now. I was routed and did not like it one bit. I am still routed, however. Just in a different way. Squished, too. I can’t do anything about that shit, but I can sit here and appreciate the time I have today. By the way, I did accompany my dad to work... Once while he was manager of quality in the defense electronics industry, he brought me along on a Saturday. I loved it.
Zoe caught me severely upside the head
0816. Coffee. The sun is trying to break through the marine layer. The temperature is already fairly warm outside, too, so perhaps I can open the house and get some fresh air in here. Oy... The driver just missed my gray can and emptied all the rest on the street. Ugh. I’ll have to make a call. Anyway, my routine will be very quick today thanks to ordering dinner last night. There is very little cleanup in the kitchen. Maybe with all of the extra time I’ll have today, I can get into one of the car models for a while. The morning has already been a depressing disaster, so I may as well do something enjoyable and relax. Sitting at the dining table with all the parts organized and spread out combined with a nice cocktail and the television was one of my favorite scenes. I’ve built all five models more than once and will be doing it again just for comfort. I’d like to get that new Ferrari, but my God is it ever expensive. Maybe another time. I called about the trash can. Hopefully, the driver will return this morning. The last time my can was missed, they sent a truck the following morning. That’s fine, but I would prefer it to be emptied today. 0941. I have to break out of the bad feelings and memories so I can move on with the day’s business. I really don’t enjoy being made to feel this way by external forces, especially considering there are very few individuals left alive with whom I could take issue. One family member is included in that group, meaning I have no one off which to bounce my thoughts about the past. When the coffee is gone, I’ll take care of the daily business and then head in whatever direction seems best. I may or may not end up at the dining table with a car model. The jury is still out on that idea. Sometimes I feel like I need to be more productive rather than sitting and working on a frivolous project, although there is nothing wrong with relaxing at times. I take care of every aspect of this household, so maybe I will talk myself into building a car. Right now I just don’t know. Ah, shit... Here comes Cara and her amazing facial features. Damn. She is stunning even with tears in her eyes. Chris was an idiot because Cara was fucking wonderful in every way. Whatever. They are not real anyway. They are on the screen, forever in the past, and not real. The rest are gone. I need to get away from this. Tuesday has arrived with zero fanfare and my head full of loss. I can’t help it. Yesterday was very relaxing because I indeed broke out the model and began building it once again. Hours I spent on the thing with my show in the background. I was unconcerned about any other work because the model kept me both comfortable and full of enjoyment. That is one of the little things I mention from time to time, but sitting for hours like that is not always a good idea. Dinner was just leftovers, meaning easy prep and not much cleanup. I’ll have the kitchen finished fairly quickly this morning. And speaking of yesterday, the garbage company did send a truck during the early afternoon to empty the cart that had been missed during the early morning. Very good. I don’t need any delays when it comes to the gray can because it is the smallest they offer. One week is about the limit. Anyway, I have yet to know what today may have in store for my mind. The woman playing piano at the psychiatric facility in this episode has a fucking gorgeous chest. Her sweater is ideal for showing off the beautifully round shape of her breasts. They are not overly large or out of proportion, yet prominent. That look is so fucking attractive when connected to the right type of frame, I swear I could stare at her in that scene all day long. Just a thought. Damn. Onward with whatever the fuck I am doing. I’ll begin the routine soon, pour a huge glass of whiskey, and then see how I feel about the rest of the day. Christina’s chest will fade away soon enough. Everything fades except memories and Jamie. I am in love with her. Well, if I know what the phrase actually means, that is. I’ve stated that I love her for a very long time. To be completely honest, I really don’t know what that word means, either. I was told something very interesting many years ago. ‘Love is just a word. What that word represents can be different for everyone.’ I have no fucking idea, but I will say that when I see her beautiful, emotional pools of wonder (eyes), there is a deep-seated instantaneous need for her to hold me. Whatever that is, I don’t know or care. That is how I feel after all these years. Jamie is above all things in the universe for me, even the Passion. This is fucking stupid. Let’s take care of some housework, shall we? 1122. I finished the routine and sorted a ton of paperwork that needed to be divided between tossing into the recycle bin straight away or shredding and then recycling. Ooh-fa. This takes place from time to time because I often receive a load of paperwork from the City requiring scrutiny. Since I am good at such operations, I’m trusted with the paperwork. Many people – mostly those who throw boxes next to their recycle bin or end up with cardboard three feet above the lid – do not have the patience or inclination to make things fit properly. They may also lack the time, although in my experience the time is there even if a person is busy. Motivation is the key. I took the time to completely separate the papers and envelopes and get them all stacked so they can be shredded in decent order. And there is Jamie in the second half of the sixth season. It doesn’t get much better than that. Anyway, when it comes to organization and garbage, I try to be as efficient as possible. Maximizing the trash and other cans saves money in the long run, too. Wednesday has arrived whether I like it or not. Sometime later this morning I need to head to three different stores. Ugh. At least when I arrive home again I’ll feel much better. This is easy stuff, for sure, yet for whatever reason I always end up nervous, and I am not referring to the possibility of seeing something special. My head is not in that particular space today because of depression and disillusionment. Whatever changed a couple of years ago (or was it last year?) is really taking its toll upon my psyche and has left me even less motivated than I could have predicted. Day-to-day activities do not appear rewarding like they once did. This situation has had more negative effects on my heart than anything else, and that includes a distinct lack of understanding from the right person. I’ll go and do the shopping and then return, after which I’ll take care of the very quick routine like yesterday. I am so down in the dumps right now that I must head out soon, lest my mood gets the best of me and I end up without those items I need for tonight and this weekend. I am making salads again because there is a birthday dinner uptown on Saturday and everyone likes the way my salads taste. That means soaking beans and boiling beets tomorrow in order to create both dishes on Friday. I will not let anyone down just because I am having serious problems inside. They have nothing to do with my condition. Maybe when I return from the drive I can finally move a few components here on the table and get that nagging project out of the way. I’d like my wristwatches to find the WWVB signal at night so they can be corrected. The box must be nearer to the window in order for that to happen, so I’ve decided to move the RAID system and disc reader to the top of the safe which is to my right. That will open lots of space atop the table. Everything – even the simplest, ten-minute tasks – feels nearly impossible these days. I find myself caring less and less with the passage of time. I know that once I am gone, none of this shit will matter anymore. 1156. I am back from the shopping trip and already knocked out the routine. That means two positives are apparent. One is the fatass cocktail sitting here next to me, and the other is having the rest of the day to myself. And yes, there were wondrous things to see at the produce market. Remember the Asian girl that hit me upside the head last month? There was another, albeit she was slightly different. I saw one amazing form in the parking lot, too, but only for a few seconds as I walked toward the entrance. As I said earlier, my head is not aligned with much of that type of thinking this morning, so neither really caused much of a problem. I have other, much larger concerns these days. Internal shit, really... Problems more difficult to deal with than some random female form out there in society. There will always be something to see, meaning I expect disaster almost all the time. The processes that are chewing me up inside are far greater considerations and much more important. The bottom line is I am beginning to believe that shortly after the first damaging dream, the change I often reference was the actual end of living. I am also starting to see that without the proper understanding or a dramatic alteration to life, there is nothing I can do about it. Thursday morning and I am thinking about yesterday’s massive pitfall and what I can do to change it. I am also concerned that I am powerless to deal with the purity and related emotions, and seeing as there has been yet another reminder of the past, the difficulty has multiplied tenfold. There is little anger right now, and that is a good thing. The truth is I am far too sad and depressed to become angry right now. Seeing things in my sleep is tough sometimes because I end up completely invested in such situations and end up slammed by reality and another reminder of the fucking purity, the sum result being me unable to function properly. There are other factors, but I can’t point them out here. Even without publishing, I can’t have certain information flying off this keyboard. The dreams are bad enough. I don’t need the purity piled atop the already desperate and dire feelings. I am barely alive right now. On the upside, I need not leave the house today at all. Yesterday’s shopping trip was ok, I guess, and though I saw some beautiful sights, I made it through the entire three-store affair with few problems. The interesting part is not actually leaving and driving there, it is considering leaving earlier in the morning. The feeling is akin to some weight sitting on my shoulders and I really don’t like that shit. No such feelings are within me this morning. That’s very good. The other shit is beginning to affect me and I don’t need anything else on top of it right now. Memories are bad enough, and when added to the purity and all its inherent factors and considerations, I am seeing my life running out... Ending. As I said above, more than two years have passed since that first dream and some alteration to my being that I don’t fully understand, and I now see that the process was a line that I crossed. Between the dream (a dramatic change in the way I was thinking each day) and becoming concerned about the purity (a part of life that I had rarely considered in serious terms because it was not necessary), I have been caught off-guard in a very unexpected way and see that everything good, fulfilling or enjoyable is actually behind me. Sometime earlier this morning while I slept, the latest reminder of this straight road into oblivion came along and took away my comfort. I am still feeling the loss several hours later. This shit is going to ruin my morning and I fucking hate it.
I don't know who the woman on the right is, but... she carries the same facial trait as Roxanne
1034. The laundry is in process and my daily housework is out of the way. I’ve been rerouting cables in order to move the RAID system to the top of the safe, and the process is tedious. I need to find a two-meter ethernet cable before rebooting the drives, though. The next time I place an Amazon order, it will be included. The disc reader will sit atop the RAID as it did before. As for the rest of the control center, I believe everything is in place and about as organized as it can be considering the complexity. My watch box will soon reside here on the table (along with its charge lamp) so the receivers can connect to the WWVB during the night. The box sat in the same place years ago and operated just fine, so no worries. As for the hours ahead, I only have little tasks to complete. I may have to take a drive to the smaller market for some creamer. That’s an easy one aside from possibly seeing the woman named Jamie behind the register. That fact caught me upside the head like a fucking brick. And yes, there is a nice cold glass of booze next to me. Big surprise. I only know her name because she recognized me after shopping at that place for the last four years, the natural extension of which is typically to ask the person’s name. I haven’t been there in months, so perhaps she will not recall my name, but hers is tattooed on my brain thanks to the love of my life. I bought a used 11/32” 12-point combination wrench on eBay and the seller sent an industrial 6-point version. It’s no big deal to me, but I may have to contact them in case the mistake messes up another of their auctions. Very interesting. I rarely receive incorrect orders, and that is saying a lot considering I’ve been buying and selling on eBay for 25 years. My other wrenches also showed up and they are fantastic. The tool set continues to grow, albeit at a very low cost thanks to the fact that I’ve been purchasing older and better made tools from the seventies and eighties. Friday morning. Coffee. Quiet. Time to think. And boy do I ever need lots of it today. I saw another example of the end-all be-all of beauty as combined with the last bastion of human endeavor. Rolled into one slender frame, she took me from myself as I realized her eyes were dead-on correct. Not like the race girl’s eyes, yet not too far off, either. This woman shook me to the core and it was only partially due to her physical appearance. Personality came through everything I was seeing like a fucking freight train, and I could feel the precise type of individual that she is... From the inside out. Believe it. I felt it. This is a huge problem. No sooner did she begin to speak when I felt it... I sensed that she would understand and ‘know’ everything without prejudice; without judgment. Perhaps even with nary a thought to the negative. She was wonderful to see and even better to feel. I’ve known for years – all the way back to when I manufactured ‘Jaime’ just to keep myself going from one day to the next when my world was falling apart – that the possibility of the right type of person is out there, somewhere. She will never be near to me, yet I can’t deny the feeling that there are just too many people in the world for her not to exist at all. Well, the woman from this morning conveyed more to me than anyone else throughout the past decade-plus, and she did it from afar. I’ve seen little tidbits and examples here and there, leaving the idea of some of them rolled into the same person seemingly impossible. There have been too many different ideas and traits for me to believe they could combine, ever. Certain factors do stand out and drive me up the fucking wall, but I must maintain the standpoint of a person who realizes there has been far too much fantasy dictating what I’ve been trying to find in reality. Those fucking factors have become beacons at times, pushing me to force the idea that maybe there truly is something out there that can help me and answer the questions, yet at the same time those very same factors also feel completely impossible, or akin to the idea that due to the wondrous nature of such living ways, I most decidedly do not deserve them. The woman I saw this morning quickly became the antithesis of my desperate nature by conveying enough through her eyes to inform me that this fucking search may not be fruitless. At the same time, I also believe the rarity of her type cannot be denied. Not even a little bit. And remember, I am not just referring to her appearance. The personality is far more powerful. Regardless, I grabbed a couple of images so I could stare. The problems related to seeing her this morning will continue to increase in severity. I already know that much because I have a very difficult time understanding what she broadcasted while appearing so fucking stunning that I should have beat myself over the head with a hammer. Personality took me from myself and sent me into another world... One in which I could actually be ok. Is that woman the answer? Wait... There is more than one question. The not-so-obvious of which is... ‘Do my feelings even matter?’ She is just a person and I am fascinated with what I saw and felt. In the real world, however, I don’t believe there is anything that can be done about such feelings, nor can I sit here and actually justify the way I view the world and its inhabitants in general, and a woman like her in particular. I am far too out of balance to actually connect with a single fucking soul from now until the end of time. All I can do is look at her, feel whatever I feel, and then fall on my face again knowing that there is nothing left for me. The more I think about what happened this morning, the less I believe I can make it through life much longer. Her face was the key. The face is always key because that is the place where personality comes through, and no level of physical beauty can do the same. Period. Form can only go so far. Julie looks a bit scary sometimes when she raises just the right-hand eyebrow, forcing a bit of an inverted ‘v’ above. It’s not a Spock thing, either. She has her own trademark that is there to inform others of whenever she is not to be trifled. Cute and scary at the same time, for sure. I have to make salads today. All the preparations were completed yesterday in good time, so now I have to construct each dish so they can chill in the refrigerator overnight. I also need to fucking think about things today; the woman, my place in the world, the rest of my life (however long that may be), and any fucking project or aspect of living I can embrace that has even a slice of the level of power required to distract me from who and what I have become. Not much to ask, eh? The name of the woman over whom I’ve gone goo-ga is Zoe. Very interesting. And there is a woman in this episode named Jamie who carries as much stunning beauty as she does menacing, fear-inducing facial expressions. Wow. There can be no doubt that I have a ‘thing’ for female names beginning with the letter ‘j’, and Jamie is at the top of the list for good reason. Another example of that name combined with a fucking amazing, slender form from the gods and gorgeous, dark eyes is not what I need right now. I am certifiable. I know it because I just spent ten minutes securing some very large, detailed images of Zoe’s unbelievable face. Certifiable. No doubt. While I watched her on the television this morning, the torment reared its head almost immediately. I became distraught because I knew she was real but could not do anything about it. I need to scream from the rooftop... I have to scream my feelings due to being so out of balance and desperate to let her know just how much she moved me in the space of thirty fucking seconds. I HAVE TO TELL HER. I can’t, and it hurts. The rarity of a face and a pair of eyes transmitting so much emotion into my heart cannot be overstated. Nothing at this level has occurred to me since the race girl, believe it or not. I need to cease this topic for a little while. 0919. I am already mentally and emotionally out of fucking gas today and there is quite a bit to be done. One step at a time, I suppose. I don’t know why I included the logo below. Maybe I just felt it for some reason. 1035. My daily routine is finished and the beans are simmering. They will be on the stove until just before one this afternoon, and that after soaking overnight. Beans are cement until such a process. Heh. Anyway, from here forward I can check on the pot and add water as necessary, in and around everything else I do. Well, if I do anything, that is. This morning is still taking its toll on my psyche because the event was both unexpected and crippling. I already had enough reasons to apply my solution and really did not need anything else piled atop that shit. Moreover, the woman (Jamie) that appears in ten episodes of this program is driving me up the fucking wall due to her very unique facial structure – a wide, flat mouth, full lips and elongated, slender nose – the type to which I have been highly attracted for decades. Well, combine all that stuff with long, dark, wavy hair and very dark eyes and the sum is far more than I can take without losing my fucking mind. I need to check on the beans. Ah... They are doing fine. Another half hour may find me adding water. Anyway, I really wish I could go into more detail regarding my feelings for such beauty (and the damned names), but published or not, I can’t expose myself to any possible, hellish backlash. This shit predates the damaging dreams but is related nonetheless. Everything is related, and that’s not an exaggeration. I am slowly losing reasons to go on living. One idea that came to mind which may help me today is to continue building the model car. I’ve not touched it for a few days because the idea to capture more images came to mind, and that means it has to remain partially built in order to expose the colorful nature of the car at its present stage. I can combine pizza for lunch and some time working on the car in the hopes of extricating Zoe and Jamie from my head for a while. One humorous thought just popped into my fucked-up brain... After watching the debate last night and considering options for the upcoming election, I believe my condition takes priority over any prospect of this nation being led by the appropriate type of person. In addition, I often lament the loss of the past and complain about the way the world is right now. Technology has become boring and expected, there are two significant, horrible wars taking place on the other side of the world and threatening to divide the rest to the point of yet another, larger war, and hope for the future seems to be at an all-time low. All that shit has combined to force me to think that perhaps we need to vote for the more reckless candidate just so the end of the world arrives sooner. Once the population is obliterated, nothing else can come along to worsen everything. Jesus fucking hell is Jamie ever unique. I had forgotten about her for a very long time, or at least since I watched this program in its entirety. Looking at her is very painful. So, whatever the result this fall, I don’t believe improvement is on our horizon. It’s just not possible anymore. All I can do is sit here and watch it all play out, at the same time watching my hope diminish. If the theater of war expands, it may be the last occasion of such a thing for humankind. As I said, all I can do is wait and watch, good or bad.
My heart skips a beat every time this logo hits the screen
I sold the race tickets last month because I’ve become disillusioned with the event. For the last decade, I renewed the seats and parking pass during the early morning at the track because it was very easy and usually yielded some kind of gift, and several of them have been very useful. Renewal was always a part of the morning when the track was quiet. I paid a deposit and moved on with the day. Part of the reason was to support the sport and venue. Selling was not an easy decision, either, mostly due to having so much history attending the event as it dated all the way back to the late nineties when my dad and I visited together. We were at the very first, believe it or not. So, as my feelings have changed in recent years, I went through the entire process of bank and tax information along with listing this year’s tickets for sale, and lo and behold someone bought them. I was paid some days ago and very satisfied with the affair. But... I just grabbed today’s mail and they sent me a parking pass. Unbelievable. I guess I’ll just add it to the collection. I would have thought that they knew not to send a pass because I have no event tickets. I guess not. Will I miss being there? A little bit. The venue and structure of the race are very different from the past. Last year I opted to bring the big camera and spend time in the pits and surrounding area rather than following along with each match, and for the most part it was quite rewarding. I captured some really nice images in and around the race cars and supporting vehicles. Unfortunately, my brain kept seeing the differences from past events and the way things are done at present. I don’t fucking like it at all. This is just one more reason to abhor social changes that have pervaded the world in recent years. Everything is tightened, regulated and/or otherwise trivialized to the point of becoming completely ridiculous. I may not attend that event ever again. Progress is one of my key enemies. The worst part of what happened early this morning is that my heart became involved almost immediately. Physical desire is nowhere near as dangerous as emotional need. Believe it. Time will dictate where I go from here. Very bad. I was already weak enough. I didn’t need more shit piled atop this fucked up condition. 1405. I am exhausted. Both salads are finished (one is cooling) and the kitchen and stove are clean for the second time today. As pleased as I am to have that stuff finished, the inside of my head is still plenty screwed up. Ah, shit... The squareheads actually came to the door a moment ago. Interesting, considering I left them on the side of the information superhighway some months back. And? My garage door is open, meaning they likely saw the new mural – all sixty square feet of it – and I’d love to have been able to catch the reaction. Unfortunately, I am no longer interested in speaking to people. I will have to live with the mystery. Besides, I didn’t create that work of art for anyone other than myself. It is there for good reason and I am the only one who knows of the genesis. I was asked some weeks ago during one of the errant garage gatherings (not much to my liking) of the meaning, my reply being cryptic but not entirely veiled: It is meant as a question; a prayer of sorts. Anyway, I won’t answer the door when they visit anymore. If it happens that I’m outside, I’ll just come across in a manner they do not appreciate. My world may be less than six thousand square feet, but it’s under my control and will remain as such until I say otherwise. And speaking of the garage again, the other day I relocated my thermometer to the window covering and wired it. I need to move the smaller lighted platform to the opposite corner one of these days so it can eventually hold the large Goose bottle once I empty it. As for being so fucking tired, I don’t know what happened. It’s unusual for me to run out of gas so dramatically this early, but I feel really drained. Whatever the reason, I need to take it easy. All that garage and shed stuff will have to wait. At least I have a head start on tomorrow’s stuff. The morning should be very quiet. No drive is required of me until Sunday. That is a relaxing thought. Saturday morning is here on the heels of a comfortable Friday night. I had to run to the market at six this morning for cream and a couple of other items that I overlooked yesterday. I used to be on the very early shift back when I was working, remember? Laundry and trips to the store began an hour earlier than I was out the door today. That was cool at the time. As for this morning, I do enjoy seeing the store so empty and making the trip in record time as opposed to the afternoon. I have hours to myself due to no driving this morning, and I fully intend to take advantage of each second. The occasion is a birthday dinner at the other end of town as we do from time to time, hence the salads. I have eight hours between now and then. Jamie number two is on the screen again, all dark and mysterious, leggy and scary. She is something to see, let me tell you. Last night was Jolene, although I maintained my composure aside from blowing kisses at the screen from time to time. I already realize I am fucked in the head, so typing that phrase does not seem so out out of balance. There are other thoughts in my head which go far beyond simple gestures of infatuation. Believe it. And as for Jamie number one, the goddess of the universe and love of my life (whatever that last part actually means), I tried to complete the gangster series, but the site still has an issue with playback. I took care of streamlining everything – cache, cookies, bandwidth, hardware acceleration, etc. – and still it fucks up too often for me to sit comfortably and watch with any semblance of attention. I wish I could identify the issue. The current site has been streaming on and off for weeks without any problems whatsoever, as has one other site. I just don’t understand. I will keep trying. Alternatively, I can always finish the series on the theatre system in the living room. That equipment rarely exhibits any issues. Isn’t all this just fucking super exciting? My life... Such as it is. The morning is very quiet other than the dialog from this program. Tomorrow I’ll be driving at this hour, but the trip comes and goes quickly on Sundays. Regardless of the simplicity of that drive, I am overjoyed to have a longer morning than most weekends. I have no idea of what I am going to do with the extra time, either. Oh, boy... Sex on the display. It will be over soon enough. That is one of the aspects of what used to be called ‘pay television’ that seemed fascinating when I was young. Now? It’s just a break in the storyline and quite often completely unnecessary other than to entice the audience. Well, I don’t react as they may wish. Anyway, my coffee will be finished far earlier than usual, leaving me with more options and no idea of which way to turn. That’s fine. I’d rather have too much time than the opposite. I used to hate being in a hurry because it was a daily and often hourly occurrence when I was working. I guess years of that shitty situation jaded me. The morning will move along very slowly, just as I prefer, and in case you may have been wondering, Jennifer displays chiclets sometimes. Curious, my weekends used to be precious because of work, mostly due to being pushed and pulled with nary a second to gather my thoughts. At present, I’ve been away from work for more than four years and still relish each morning and the fact that I am rarely pressed in any particular direction other than that which I choose. Some may believe I’d eventually tire of being home all the time. Nope. I have good days and bad days, but I’d rather be here for the bad than in some fucked up building anywhere else. Right now the time is only 0742 and I can decide which way to turn... And when. ‘Hearing is the first thing to go. Or is it memory? I always forget.’ – SAIC Lundy, FBI (Keith Carradine) I remember when he starred in ‘The Long Riders’ with two of his brothers way back in nineteen eighty. That was a fantastic movie by the great Walter Hill. It’s subjective, of course, and will never appeal to everyone. Hill was fucking brutal. David, Keith and Robert Carradine portrayed the Younger brothers, along with James and Stacy Keach as Jesse and Frank James, respectively. Do I need to mention Dennis and Randy Quaid or Nicholas and Christopher Guest? All of the brothers in the film are brothers in real life. Awesome. I need to cease the practice of having lunch here at the table while browsing maps. I keep looking at both places I’ve been and wish to see, but the underlying feeling is that I will never have the opportunity again to explore those stirring places. I will typically sit here until I’m finished eating, and by that point I become saddened over the loss of my ability to go places. The circumstance is partially by design, seeing that I try to avoid people as much as possible, yet at the same time I really need to get the fuck out of here and marvel at the wonder of the west. Walking away from this table partially depressed because I can’t go anywhere is not going to help matters as they already are. I have to stop that practice. Fictional video media is fine. The maps are not. My upbringing was littered with road trips because my dad loved to travel and see new places. I am concerned that such things are all over for me. Looking at the world via maps is only going to make me sad. It has to end. Between the sheer number of entries written since I stopped working (298 as of last count), and having repeated myself ‘eight ways from Sunday’, I really don’t know what else to say here. That is the main reason for the vast exposition of what I do from one day to the next, along with a million references to what I have seen in the world or during whatever programs I’ve watched. None of this is terribly exciting, I realize, but what the fuck else am I going to do? Beauty moves me more than ever before, my future continues to be forcibly narrowed between those fucking converging lines, and my life is truncated and simplified a little bit more with each passing day. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?
Almost, but still not real
1003. Cocktail hour has arrived on the heels of completing my daily routine and having a light snack. Dinner will be early, like always, so lunch is unnecessary. I don’t have to leave the house until roughly four hours from now. Aside from cleaning up a bit, there is little to do in preparation for the birthday shindig. The plan is to sit here and gather my thoughts, positive or negative as they may be. I have an item being delivered between two and six, so I’ll have to ask my neighbor to grab it off the porch if I’m already gone when it arrives. Jennifer’s chiclets are showing again. So cute. Ooh-fa... Jamie’s character is evil and unhinged right now. That’s fucking sad because she is unbelievably beautiful and alluring. Whatever. Usually, this time of day finds me considering lunch options, but the early dinner has put the kibosh to such plans. I’ll enjoy the visit, like always, and then arriving home afterward should prove very rewarding. Tomorrow is Sunday and I always enjoy taking care of business and getting everything ready for a new week. I have lots to do tomorrow, so perhaps I can get a head start on a few tasks today before leaving for the north end of town. Motivation has not been forthcoming since finishing my routine earlier. I honestly don’t know what to do other than sit here and type. The same program is still running on my right-hand display, full of Jamie’s scary beauty and other aspects of life I usually avoid. At least I know the story after having run through this series more than once since inception. Incidentally, I originally watched it during the 1236 period when picture clarity was still amazing. I will avoid a tirade. I must point out, however, that anything new and exciting will eventually fade, and the HD did just that after becoming accustomed to such quality. Now? HD is old hat, 4K seems to be the big deal, yet both have been overshadowed by two facts. First, all of the digital enhancements and motion effects typically make movies appear like video, and second, just because something is ‘new’ does not necessarily mean it is an improvement. Technology is constantly pushed regardless of how such changes may affect the end user. For myself, everything peaked roughly nineteen years ago. To this very day, when I am watching something that was originally shot on film, it had better resemble film. Otherwise, why go to the effort? Eh... I am the only person who analyzes to this level of depth. No one else seems to give a shit anymore. So long as I have complete control over picture quality, any further commentary is unnecessary. For example, my current television in the living room is five years old and all of the motion enhancements are turned off. My next television may prove to be more difficult to manipulate. I don’t want the warmth of actual film, having been bastardized by digitalization, to appear as crystal-clear video. Film is a tangible medium that one can hold in their hands, whereas everything else is just memory. And? This is yet another paragraph in a long line that has lost its way. I liked the way things ‘were’ as opposed to the way they ‘are’. Everything has been reduced; boiled down to the bare minimum of what was once called ‘interesting’. Sunday morning, 0809. The drive was fine. I don’t like people anymore and no longer want to be around them, and the feeling includes driving on streets and highways near others. The upcoming holiday will not include yours truly other than flying the requisite flags on the front of the house. I’ve become far too disillusioned for a celebration of any kind. I have to do my own thing and force them to wonder what I am doing and why, as Mr. Wagner used to say. A little piece of the structure which holds me together cracked and then broke last night and I decided that the time has come to go about my life differently. I’ll take care of everything within which I’ve already been involved and to which I’ve been committed for years, of course, but as for the rest, I can take no more of the way society views itself, nor can I continue to align with certain days or events. The holiday is in four days. I’m going to work on my truck while everyone else is focused upon their ridiculous and ill-begotten plans to outdo their neighbors and prove that they are the world champions of spending (and subsequently burning to ash) their money. I can’t fucking do it anymore and it’s important that others see the difference. Well, there are no guarantees of anything, really. All I can do is try. If I am asked, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. I was here before and beginning this morning I will not be here anymore. Ask and you shall not receive. I am certain that little, nagging issues have been piling atop one another for long enough for me to finally put the kibosh to as much involvement in the world as possible. Oh, I’ve tried over and over, yet something always comes along to make me smile just enough to relax my stance and bearing a little bit, and then later the feeling expands and I find myself right back where it all began. Not this time. I am going to remain guarded and unavailable as much as possible, this morning being the very beginning of the alteration. As I said, the possibility is that when everything hit me in the head last night as I tried to sleep, I made the decision to finally put all of my skills to work and change the way people see me. I suppose this was inevitable and would happen eventually. This is the day. Today. The little things will reflect my mood. The flags are out and one of them is indicative of the elusive forest. It might help me today. Maybe nothing will help. I can’t know at this point. The site is still offline and will remain unavailable until such time that my mood improves, if that is possible anymore. The hosting is roughly halfway through its cycle, and if I don’t feel any better later this year, it will expire and everything will disappear. This coffee is not agreeing with me like other days. I don’t know what’s wrong. Cocktail hour will probably help in more ways than one. We go... 1031. I trimmed the roses, moved the cans to the garage, and took care of the daily routine. It is indeed cocktail hour, thank fucking Christ. The music of life – including the soaring, stirring track that the Raven loved; the album conjures thoughts and a mood related to isolation, destruction and cultural derealization – has been following me through the mighty wireless MDRs at every step of the way. This will continue, as opposed to one of my programs on the three televisions, for the remainder of the day. At some point I’ll have to switch from headphones to the audio system in the garage because I can only wear these for a few hours at a time before I get tired of the weight on my head. The wireless MDRs are nearly as comfortable as the wired set, yet they do eventually cause discomfort. I will say the wireless version of these excellent audio reproduction devices helps me work around the house and yard without announcing to the world that I am in a horrible, damaging mood. As for my feelings related to the fucking music, there is a huge difference. I rarely tire of hearing forest-minded compositions and the worlds they create. I need them to help me fucking live these days. Further, an electric bicycle was delivered yesterday while I was at the other end of town, and my neighbor grabbed the box, thankfully. We do that sometimes... Pick up the other’s packages for security. The only problem is I have to wait some hours to get it because he works through the night and sleeps during the day. No big deal. And the bike is not for me. I ordered it as a favor to someone else. Once it’s in the garage, I am to build and evaluate the machine and report back to the buyer. Testing an electric bicycle will be the enjoyable part. I am looking forward to the process. There is no particular hurry, and I am hoping to take possession later today. Seeing as much of my Sunday business is complete, the plan is to work on whatever is enjoyable rather than necessary. I am in no fucking mood for physical labor of any type, nor do I care to associate with anyone aside from one neighbor. He and I have similar attitudes toward society. The other half of the world, those who have ridiculous diets and drive electric vehicles because they believe it is the ‘right thing to do’ are nowhere near the same. They need to be left to their little worlds, just like me. Along such lines, the music of life is injecting thoughts of my time with the Raven into my angry, tired brain. She was the very definition of dark beauty, quite literally the most beautiful, stirring and alluring appearance in existence. This is going to be a very difficult day, mark my words. I should have died back in the year of fifteen. I should have fucking died. Now I am cemented like never before. I remember thinking that the year of eleven – the cave period – was the worst. No fucking way. The loss of the Raven stands head and shoulders above any other fucking era. Of that there can be no doubt. This is going to be a two-cocktail morning, good or bad as the situation may transpire. Jesus fucking Christ on a cross... I miss Her so much that the pain still runs deep. No one understood; no one understands. They never will. Only She knew it all. The cloud application into which I have been writing for years now boasts an AI-driven summary system. I am overjoyed to no fucking end because with such a tool I can go back in time to some of the nonfiction – as I did when enrolled in an online college rife with very helpful writing tools – and make adjustments to some of the grammar and structure. That is fucking amazing. AI may be a huge point of contention around the globe right now, but some aspects are extremely beneficial. I plan to take full advantage of such a service. Today is day 33. Today is also day 3260. I may have died years ago and just didn’t realize the state of things. This is a very bad day, but there are positives. My work around the house is very helpful in maintaining stability in life. Unfortunately, there are times when everything hits me all at once and the only defense is anger. This is one of those times. Hmm... Perhaps I can wear the MDRs for a while longer. The importance to my state of mind is beginning to outweigh any physical discomfort. I will switch to the other system soon, but for now I am engulfed in memories, loss and very deep depression. The wave must be embraced for as long as possible today. I am beginning to feel like nothing more than glue... AGAIN. This will be very bad for those around me. Remember that. Shitty Monday morning. End of line."
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