Day Thirty-Four Mature content No. 417 Published July 27th, 2024 8:23am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Julie’s eyebrows are the key. I just noticed. Her eyebrows are the reason for such a unique face. Well, there is a mechanical relationship between her eyes and eyebrows and that is the reason, honestly, not just her eyebrows alone. The entire picture makes me want to demonstrate my vast appreciation for Julie’s appearance. Tuesday morning. The holiday is this Thursday. I still don’t know how I feel about it, although I do intend to set up the grill on the driveway like I have for the last decade. That is the only day of the year when I expect to hear all of the illegal fireworks; other days are unacceptable, yet they occur anyway because people need attention. I do not. All I need is to enjoy the driveway time, cook some hot dogs and relax. I usually try to make the area look nice, too. This week is all fucked up, so tomorrow I’ll be driving to the City early and then visiting the market on the return trip. I really don’t like heading up there on a weekday. Hopefully, the holiday falling on a Thursday means some people are on vacation for the entire week. As for today, there are lots of things I can do. Finding some motivation may be tough, however, because I’ve become very disillusioned lately. More than in the past, actually. I’ll do what I can, just like most days. Going above and beyond the daily routine has become an exercise in force. I have to push pretty fucking hard to care for the smallest items that do not appear on the routine’s list. I passed all of them by yesterday and have no idea of whether or not I will be able to rise above the din today. There is so much shit in my head from the past that I know in advance that working on the house or other projects will not alleviate much of it at all. There are precious few moments throughout the average day that I find myself distracted from this condition and no way of predicting how or when they may occur. Tuesday is gone. Wednesday is underway. I made the drive this morning – a very smooth journey despite this being a weekday – and stopped at the market on the way back. My planning worked well, too. I left a tad earlier in anticipation of a slow ride, but I believe lots of people are already on vacation thanks to the holiday tomorrow. Now I have my coffee and the entire day ahead to do as I please. To say that I’m overjoyed to be home again would be an understatement. Visiting the market helped to secure everything I need for the barbeque on the driveway tomorrow. The scene will be as it has been for the last several years... Flags out, chairs and table near the open garage, and a buffet setup on top of the washer and dryer. All of that is typical of me. I’ll probably be on the fence about the whole thing today and then get a bit excited about it tomorrow. As for right now, I could take it or leave it. The plan is to relax for a little while and then take care of the daily routine, after which I may head to the garage to continue what I started yesterday. That is painting the framework around the mural to add a little contrast to all that plywood. Gray is the color of choice to match the inner sections, the idea being similar to a matte board between a picture and its frame to accentuate details that may otherwise go unnoticed. I’ll work on it later if the garage is not too warm. For now, I should polish off the coffee and do some housework. 1110. No more coffee. Whiskey time is here. I finished the routine and straightened the living room and dining area a bit. The weather is quite warm for this time of day, although I am still thankful because the valleys are experiencing excessive heat this week. The forecast calls for a high of 73 here, whereas one of the cities in which I lived years ago will likely top 100. One of the reasons I moved to the coast is the climate here. Two-plus decades in the valley forced my hand when it came to heat. I guess I became tired of the temperatures out there after so many years and wished to reside on the coast for a very long time. The move was ill-advised at the time and caused a landslide of destructive consequences, and now that everything has mellowed I can enjoy the weather (somewhat). Whenever a heat wave hits this area it ends up very short-lived. The house is the only problem due to lack of insulation, but I do have a plan to take care of the attic during the less sunny months. That will make a big difference, although the walls cannot be insulated unless the sheetrock comes down. One step at a time, I suppose. Anyway, all weather issues aside, I will do what I can during the next few hours and see how things shape up, including the mural frame. The idea is to neutralize the coloration of the wood to add an accent, and then consider some lettering down both of the vertical panels. I am on the fence about the latter, but considering the contrast as it stands right now, I’ll be painting the rest of the bordering plywood whenever the mood strikes. I may also add a bit of detail within the framework. The time is now 1301 and my day has only slightly advanced. I’ve been routed again. Squished, for the most part. I don’t like it one bit because those two situations have created the person sitting at this control center right fucking now. My best path for the remainder of the day is to remain quiet. Well, somewhat quiet. I intend to work in the garage for a little while so I can come up with a few harebrained constructs for tomorrow. I have an inordinate amount of smaller fireworks and would like to create something more elaborate with each group. Years of holding an explosive handler’s license combined with engineering skills up the wazoo have driven me to exercise both at the same time. That means some unorthodox displays that can sit atop my elevated platform to emphasize the dramatic nature of all that knowledge. I may come up with a few ideas, or I may not. At this moment I am feeling a tad irritated due to the squishing, so anything I attempt to build will take more time than originally anticipated. No worries. The booze is flowing like a two-bit whore. Everything will soon seem more appealing regardless of improvement. Today is the holiday for which I made some preparations yesterday. The flags are out. The garage is empty of its typical car and everything is in decent order. My head is not going to be into the work for a while, however, because there was a little something in my vision (again) during the evening that needs to run its course. There are too many reverse keywords that should be applied; several that I cannot splay within this content. Moreover, I went to one of the local news sites to see if there was anything interesting going on, and there she was again. Zoe. Damn... She is something else, I tell you. Between yesterday and being reminded of how unique Zoe is just now, my head is awash with deep feelings and a very clear sense of loss. As if that’s not enough, I had to switch programs again over there on the right-hand display because the gangsters were having trouble in the stream. I only have a few episodes left but can’t seem to get through them in good time. Switching means trouble caused by this show because of the occasional beauty plus being reminded of the spoils of the 1236 period. I’ve noticed that the further that era fades into the past, the more I recall little details that I probably didn’t appreciate enough at the time. That was when I first bought an advanced television and began to see video entertainment like never before, and this show was a part of that. My favorites suddenly looked totally different and I went goo-ga over the change. That period was magical for several reasons and will eventually be labeled as another afterglow. There were problems all over the place, for sure, but right now the program on the display is reminding me of when it first aired roughly eighteen years ago, and to detail it a bit further, that was during the beginning of my third year in that apartment. There is no way I could ever overstate just how special the entertainment had become during that period, nor can I sit here and state that all was ‘good’ for three years. Between the computer, the television and my truck, there was always something to enjoy at home, and when out, well... Lots of camping and other trips combined with dinners at my favorite restaurants on many occasions adds up to one of the most pleasant times in memory. As for the problems, the car wash girl appeared toward the end, and then my obsession spiraled out of control and severely interfered with my ability to live with any semblance of balance or very comfortably. I quickly became preoccupied with certain details of form and beauty and believe me when I say that the condition impacted every aspect of living. All this shit because of the program I decided to follow for a while. Marvelous. Getting back to the one-two punch of the sighting yesterday and seeing Zoe this morning, I can feel the obsession pulling at me, and the depth of physical desire that has been generated over the years forces me to look back and wonder if the 1236 period was actually the very beginning of me sliding into a never-ending pit of damaging thoughts and desperate needs that cannot be fulfilled. Once this morning progresses further, I’ll hopefully be able to push that shit aside for a while and take care of business. The time on the clock is a mere 0758. I have all day to set up my stuff. Once the coffee period is finished – and I am here to say it will continue to roll along very slowly because I don’t fucking care – I’ll get to the quick routine and then transition to the garage for a while. Everything is going to be difficult because I am almost constantly lamenting the loss of the past and condemning the passage of time. There is much more, too, such as the herd mentality and all of the shitty attitudes and posturing that goes with it, but that crap will have to wait. I’ve gone over it before, anyway, so maybe my words won’t matter once again. Losing the past is far worse than anything else I can imagine right now. I put animated images of Meghan all over this entry because she makes me want to jump off a cliff sometimes. And Zoe is gracing the page again because after only a handful of days, I already have feelings for her, believe it or not. 0923. The last of the coffee is here on the table. I’ve been shopping a bit for necessities and considering how to proceed with the rest of the morning. Julie looks beautiful and frightening at the same time right now. Wow. Anyway, I need to streamline some areas today in and around preparing for grilling time, likely around four this afternoon. I also need to make a salad. The routine will be very quick due to everything being so slow yesterday thanks to the heat. Today is likely to be warm again, so I’ll have to do my best to keep the house as cool as possible. I never installed the big exhaust blower in the attic. Shit. Whatever. Time for some work. 1035. The routine is finished. That is one less item on my list today. I still need to clean the bathroom because there will be a person visiting this afternoon. I see that my neighbor is up much earlier than usual, likely to swap his old washer and dryer for new units. I am not going to help because I really don’t want to see anyone right now. Anyway, I have my typical drink here on the table and the show cruising along over to the right. The left-hand display is carrying the IDE. I don’t know why I pointed that one out. My plan from here forward is to continue a break for a little while and then take care of more business. The garage setup will be pretty simple, as will the rest of the housework. The jury is still out on the laundry situation. That may wait until tomorrow’s quiet time. Oh, I just remembered that I need to trim and cut some beef that will go into pasta sauce that’s been melding in the refrigerator. The longer it sits, the better the flavor. I probably won’t make pasta for dinner until Saturday or Sunday. Add water; simmer again; wonderful. And just because he guest stars in much of this season, I have to point out that Jimmy Smits is fucking awesome in everything. He’s been one of my very favorites for decades. I’m going to secure ownership of another series just so I can watch his role again. The current season means I get to marvel at Smits as well as David Zayas. Fucking awesome at every step. ‘You’ve got a lot of potential in you. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.’ – Miguel Prado Friday. I am a little bit slow this morning due to being up late and partially blowing a gasket just before going to sleep. I tired of the scene and one person treating me like a fucking servant, and nearly blew up completely. Fortunately, I found the patience to think everything through. That was the end of the night, thankfully. This morning I am going to take it easy and do the minimum. Relaxation and operating at my own pace are the two biggest advantages of being here all the time and not working anymore. Today they will both operate at their respective limits. I need to take it easy for a while, and since there is no City drive tomorrow (and none yesterday), I’ll have most of the weekend to consider options and think about everything. Earlier I mentioned streamlining, and due to being a bit more tired than usual, I believe today and the weekend can be perfect for such an activity. On top of all this time and so many relaxing considerations, I am probably going to order lunch so I can have something really rewarding rather than the usual stuff. I really need to get my shit in order. Sometimes I feel too spread out to respond if the world goes sideways. I can’t have that. The usual stuff will not be a problem because it never is. Zoe is a new problem carried to me by a very old one. Yes, I do feel something for her because I can see her personality come through no matter what she may be saying or what expression may be all over her face in an image. Personality. Yes, she is very tall and slender yet still carries curves, and that information drives me fucking insane because the torment is not knowing ‘why’ or ‘how’ combined with an inability to speak with her about it, or at least try to describe my feelings. This is torture. She will never know me and that is perfectly fine. I will never know her, either, and such a fact is fucking horrible. I just have to sit on the feelings. As I said, emotions are pushing ahead of any desire. The biggest problem here is her personality because I can see very clearly the type of person she is, yet I can never connect with such a soul. She is very likely the exact type of connection of which I’ve been dreaming for four-plus years. Nope. Nothing is going to happen because I am too far gone these days and there is no way back. I am too fucking broken. My feelings for her are only going to deepen and then I’ll be even worse off than I am right now. She is so far beyond unique that I couldn’t get the point across in a thousand years. I need to learn of her height because I am still fascinated by someone so thin that stands pretty damned tall. The overall appearance is stirring beyond description. The only downside to such height is that more often than not, the woman’s face does not match at all, resulting in a very frightening overall look. I can’t describe that one, either, but I will say that Zoe is the diametric opposite of the scary shit. She is beautiful, sure, but there is an underlying feeling that stems from her silly mannerisms and exaggerated motions while speaking. I can already tell that she is a certain type of person, one to which I’ve been highly attracted since my time in the military. That is a long fucking period of time, I tell you; more than thirty-five years. That means I know precisely what I am saying here. Just trust it... Zoe matches something that has eluded me for decades. And no, Ashley was not an example of that type of personality. She was different from what I feel for Zoe. I would still feel as strongly even if Zoe wasn’t so fucking beautiful. Everything is inside. Like I said, this is an unexpected problem that has effectively thrown a wrench into the mechanical works of living. ‘Just a fly in the ointment, Hans; a monkey in the wrench.’ – John McClane, as directed by the great John Mc Tiernan. I already love Zoe because I am fucked in the head. She is different, believe me. There have been many others, from various amazing forms that caused my obsession to severely flare to faces that conveyed caring and kindness. The most recent (and I can't employ certain terms here for good reason) was that Asian girl at the produce market back in May. She was unlike anything I'd seen in quite a while. The truth is no matter what may come along from now until whenever, the emotional impact that Zoe has had upon me cannot be easily equaled and it supercedes any fucking gorgeous lines. 1113. I moved the car back to its home and straightened everything from last night. I also took care of the routine and popped lunch into the oven. Ordering something will be too expensive. From here forward, all I will be doing is drying the dishes and putting them away. Dinner will be leftovers. Simple. Friday is now in the past. Yep, as you may have suspected. I obsessed over Zoe again this morning and ended up in pain. Apparently, she moved to this area from another part of the nation and is going to be on the broadcast each morning. Splendid. Can I change the channel and watch a different morning news program? Probably not. I am far too weak to avoid staring at her and feeling my heart flutter all over the place. Seeing Zoe a little while ago as she sported an elegant dress and four-inch heels was the first occasion that showed off her height and incredible stance. Yes, the shoes boosted her up quite a bit, but standing next to the male anchor confirmed what I suspected for days, and then I learned that she does indeed stand five-eight with no shoes on. That fact, when combined with the fact that Zoe does not carry the requisite modern-day shit-infested shape that has pervaded society for more than a decade leaves me with deep-seated feelings inside. Her personality comes through quite a bit and I can see that the woman is PRECISELY the type for which I’ve been searching all these years. Damn it all, anyway. This just fucking figures. She is unbelievable and is driving me down with all haste. So, today is Saturday and I have a shitload of free time prior to any responsibilities. The main project today is to help with a small item later this afternoon. I need to modify a prosthetic (nothing serious) by cutting, smoothing and polishing a very small piece of metal. That is something with which I am fluent and have been for many years. Other than that – which, believe it or not, will be the most difficult part of my day – I only have the usual stuff to do. If I can get the second goddess of the universe out of my fucking head, the morning should move along just fine. The house is nice and quiet, I have my morning coffee, and the program is gracing the right-hand display like always. My work today is going to be interrupted often by images of Zoe’s gorgeous face and kind eyes. I can’t help it. I need what I need, and when someone comes along showing off evidence of precisely what has been missing from life, nothing I can do will be powerful enough to remove her, even for a little while. This is a constant desire, and she has become the focal point. Pieces of me are missing. Does she have them? God help me 0912. My last cup of coffee is next to the keyboard. When it’s gone, I’ll hop to the routine and then get a few things ready for my afternoon project. That will not be a problem. Other plans are to finally cut two shelves for the shed, move a few more items to that space, and then consider options for reconfiguring one of the tall cabinets in the garage. Dinner is already mostly made, too. All I have to do is reheat the pasta sauce, flash the meat and then combine everything. It will simmer for a little while and be served over roasted potatoes. The meal should be pretty good since the sauce has been resting in the refrigerator for three days. Lots of flavor, I hope. Tomorrow’s business may enjoy a head start today because between the packing material from the scooter and the fireworks, I need to compact as much as possible to fit what I can into the trash. I believe two weeks will be enough to get rid of everything. Might be three. I’ll know tomorrow, but as for starting the process, I’ll probably do some of the work later today. In less than an hour, I’ll have a fatass cocktail to calm my inner turmoil and torment over Zoe and her pull upon my heart. I need her more than anything else in the world and must deal with the idea that nothing will ever come of my feelings. The housework will help for a little while. I was squished again the other night and began to flip the fuck out. A few moments later, I regained my composure and calmed enough to relax a little bit. Being squished does not seem to register to other people. The way I am treated after doing nothing more than helping every single fucking person who has requested it is reprehensible and I can’t fucking stand it anymore. At the same time, I continue to be nice to everyone. Why is that? Why am I continually treated like a fucking doormat? The other night was horrible, yet I don’t feel terrible about it because my recovery from nearly blowing my top was outstanding, and I am actually proud of myself. Attacking someone when I am hurt is not going to solve anything. What I need to do is sit back, bide my time, and plan a way to convey my feelings that requires calm, controlled and calculated phrasing. I am usually pretty damned good at it, too, but when anger takes over, my brain ends up partially derailed and articulating my feelings becomes an exercise in futility. The best way to proceed when that happens is to simply clam up and remain that way as long as possible. Being routed or squished hurts me much more now than it did just a few years ago. My first thought is always the same, too. Unfortunately, I cannot act on it. 1543. The usual stuff is finished, I worked on the model a bit more, and the laundry is nearly done. Not bad. I also compacted the big box so it can be tossed a little at a time. The cardboard will be gone, but all that other foam and shit may not fit. The aforementioned project is modifying something very important. I have it on good authority that it will arrive in roughly thirty minutes. Cutting and smoothing a small piece of metal will not take long at all, meaning I can get into some relaxation afterward. I might go back to the model for a little while. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Once the item arrives, I’ll take care of the modification fairly quickly. Everything I’ve done today pushed Zoe out of my head for a while, thankfully. She’s right there, but I’ve been dealing with the feelings pretty well thus far. I have to drive to the City in the morning, meaning the television will be dark until later in the day. That’s good. The tough part of feeling this way is that most of the visions and crushes (or whatevers) I’ve experienced resulted from watching programs from decades in the past. Zoe is on the fucking news. She is ‘current’, if you will, and there is nothing I can do about it. Zoe is just up the highway about twenty minutes from me. What a fucking dream. Juliette was a dream, as were a few others. Zoe is unattainable, unavailable, and pretty much every other fucking conceivable ‘un’ in existence. God damn would I ever love her to hold me. Anyway, the time has come for a bit of cutting and polishing. 1653. Well, there were two items. Both are now finished and the entire shitaree took less than ten minutes. I just know my shit too well these days. Add up all those years of troubleshooting, engineering, mechanical and electronic experience and there is little I can’t figure out anymore. I guess that’s a plus. Now I have free time until dinner preparations with my extended family in the background, like every day. Zoe is still swirling through my head. She is something else, I tell you. Cocktail hour might arrive a touch earlier than usual. Just saying. I’ll try to avoid using the word ‘need’. Eh... Fuck it. I need her more than I could possibly describe. Ugh. NEED. There you go. The feeling goes far beyond a fucking drink. I am desperate like never before. There is little left for me to do this afternoon. The dinner thingy is merely simmering and cutting some potatoes. No big deal. Dinner is typically pretty late compared to many others, so my time is very flexible. Sunday morning is here, and I am pleased to have completed the drive without issues or any significant slowdowns. Sunday is always the quietest time to drive. I know in advance that arriving home again is not far away, and here I sit. Business will wait until later because I need time to relax and consider my options for the day as well as how to deal with the torture of knowing she is right over there and a billion miles away at the same time. I edited a couple more images of her that will be included in a later entry. Big surprise. Last night’s dinner became further simplified thanks to good planning, so my routine today will be pretty easy. I have the usual garbage business, too. Perhaps there will be ample time for relaxing in and around the chores. I hope so, anyway. Garbage is one of those items I need to consider because I’ve been feeling like streamlining everything again. That means shit has to go out the door; a process I usually enjoy. I’ll get into it soon. I have to remove as much of her from my mind as possible or my day will go all to hell very quickly. Everything I do every single day is to fill time. That is all. Distractions. Lunch that I can enjoy. Nothing more. Every single fucking move is to attempt to get that woman out of my brain enough to relax, even for a little while. Typing is a part of that process, too. Anyway, maybe I can organize a little more today in and around the garbage business. I still need to cut and mount the shelves, but any effort may help. Some direction might push her away for a little while. I can only hope because right now my heart is aching. I wish I hadn’t seen her that first day. Watching a different network would have helped, although I’ll have more choices once the live television subscription kicks in next month. If I go back to the morning news that I used to watch during football season, she will not appear at all. Wrong network. But... The big question... Will I be able to avoid seeing her? No idea. I am so fucking weak that a strong breeze could mean the end of me. Unbelievable. The road out of this place is once again illuminated. The woman is in my heart, and nothing even remotely close to such an occurrence would have happened if I could live like a grown-up. Or balanced. Or something. Eh... This is all so fucked up. My heart involved itself pretty damned quickly. Very bad. On the upside, at least I know how screwed I am. Some people go through this kind of shit and think doing so is normal. Heh. What a fucking maroon. 0851. I’ll begin to feel restless very soon. The coffee and my program can combine to keep me sitting here for quite some time, but today I can already feel the weather warming and I’d like to get a head start on things. And... I might love her already. Shit. Not good. I often say that the face is key. Well, hers seems to be absolutely ideal. I lost track again. I guess that’s why the last few entries have not had decent titles. As for this morning, I have the last of the coffee next to me. I’ll begin the routine when it is gone. 1502. Woe is me. I should not have tried to secure more images of her. Big fucking mistake. No, not because I am enamored with her. The reason is the set of images. They showed off much more than her beauty. I saw her all over the southwest... Vacations in wondrous places that I will probably not see again, and others I’ve never visited. I thought I was in the minority regarding my love for the desert. Nope. At least her appearance faded fairly quickly. Being reminded of where I am in life often supersedes everything else, and that includes my obsession as well as other desires. Moreover, I went to the garage to allow time for the dishes to dry and realized the weather is going to be much warmer than I had anticipated earlier this morning. Most of my Sunday business is finished – a good thing considering the temperature – but I believe the remainder of the day will go nowhere. ‘Woe’ almost matches ‘Zoe’. Interesting. I am a basket case. The men with the butterfly nets should be here soon. Monday is here and Zoe has been on the television all morning. Crap. Her personality is so fucking cute. Yesterday I used my amazing software to secure more than 500 images of her. I’ll get into the ramifications of such a maneuver in a little while. I’ve been looking forward to having some time at the control center with coffee, and here it is. My program is over there on the right, the IDE to the left (like I work with it much these days), and I have plenty of time for whatever I wish to do. I’ll be visiting the market in an hour or so to pick up a few items. Anything there to be seen will not matter very much after all this Zoe crap. I’m still all goo-ga over her, meaning whatever else comes along shouldn’t affect me very much, if at all. Her pull upon my being is constant and very painful. I don’t think a pair of fucking pants is going to make any difference whatsoever. Zoe is either going to run the course or end up another Jamie (or Nora or Jolene). I really don’t want to adjust the portmanteau I created in order to add a fourth name. Making such an addition is another step toward the fucking basement. Splendid. Monday means the garbage is reset, dinners for the week are planned, and one of my favorite, calming activities begins anew. It also means that I need not drive to the City until Saturday at the earliest. That is very good. The morning is when I often do my best thinking, and five in a row looks very nice. Sometimes shit goes sideways, but since discovering Zoe and her amazing features, I’ve been focused enough to avoid any imperial entanglements. Something may come along and disrupt this process, though. I must remain vigilant. I need her very badly, and I need to know if my suspicions are correct. Unfortunately, I’ll have to take care of my usual daily work because knowing her and finding answers are both fucking impossible. Another sad situation; another missing piece. This day will progress just like all the others and I’ll hit the evening and relax. All in good time. On the inside, however, nothing changes. Time will continue to pass regardless of all of the pain. There is no stopping this progression of events. It is endless. Is Zoe the savior? No, not mine, but a savior nonetheless? Is Zoe... ‘Her’? 0922. I have a little bit of coffee left. When it’s gone, I’ll hit half the routine and then head to the market so I can return and enjoy the morning cocktail. None of my work today will take very long, either, so if I decide to go outside the norm I’ll have plenty of time. I cut the two shelves for the shed yesterday but did not mount them. The weather is overcast and cool right now. If it remains the same until later, I’ll go out there and finish that project. Keeping the shed as organized as possible is very important to me. The shelves have been on my mind for the last two weeks or more. Everything is here, too. All I have to do is measure, mount them and level both panels. These days, the tiniest project often appears enormous and I freeze for days on end when thinking about finishing. I used to be more capable and much more productive. The future is always labeled as ‘wide open’. I wish I could believe that. I may or may not get to the shelves today. Right now I just don’t fucking know what I will be capable of later. I see through the window that the fog is thinning just a bit to the east. Looks like the sun will be shining soon. I’ll have to cut this off and get to the store before it’s too bright out there. 1110. Cocktail hour is here, thankfully. The routine is out of the way, I ventured to the market and picked up the necessary items, and I have laundry running. Overall, this is a typical Monday. Now that my regular stuff is finished, I can consider lunch and other options. I have to say the quiet nature of this house can often be very therapeutic, and today is no different. Part of me is being driven toward relaxing at the dining table to work on the model car. The plan is to finish the current model and then grab another, the latter being the subject of many images a couple of years ago. It is unique because of one specific operation during construction that is dubbed ‘the marriage’. Think of a vehicle being built in two halves – front and rear, to be precise – and then ‘married’ by aligning more than fifteen components while joining those major sections. It is fucking amazing and the design work involved in developing such a model is mind-boggling. Well, to me, anyway. I will assemble the two sections and then document the marriage by taking images of each step. I did not do anything of the sort the last time I built that car. I still have yet to generate enough funds to acquire the Ferrari. Too bad. That one would be new and exciting, and another model for some fantastic digital imaging. Anyway, as for the rest of this day, the laundry will likely be the only actual work. I would like to relax and enjoy my afternoon rather than laboring in the shed or garage. This process is now so fucking far beyond ridiculous that I can’t even begin to believe it. Downward has been the trajectory for decades. Another day has disappeared, never to return. One more day; one less day. Dreams involving purity and connection are foggy, yet still present in my mind. I really don’t need to be reminded of where I am in life, especially considering all of the images of Zoe I found yesterday. My dreams of traveling and exploring the southwest came to mind once I began browsing. Yep... Her photos show off travel to all sorts of places. Very active, that girl. Contrarily, I hole up in this little house with various problems dictating my movements, thoughts and desires. I don’t go anywhere. I sit here and contemplate. I look at places I’ve been and places I want to visit, and then along comes this fucking goddess beyond comprehension with images of her traveling all over the place. Big, bright smiles; lots of fun, I would think. Zoe strikes me as a very positive person, quite the reverse of myself. Well, that doesn’t matter because she may as well not even be real. There is nothing for me related to her. Not a fucking thing. I no longer have the capacity to connect or be pleasant for very long before the shit returns and hits me in the head. I can’t be good for anyone, ever. I will still look at her beauty, though, because I have to see her big, beautiful eyes sometimes. The dreams from earlier this morning are going to continue to be a problem. Whenever the purity is involved (or even hinted at), my head has trouble letting go of the reference enough to focus upon other concerns. This is worse than dreaming about Zoe or anyone else because the indications at this point in time are all directing me to the same, sad conclusion. All I can do for the time being is sit here and hope everything fades enough for me to be productive or at least the slightest bit comfortable. She is on the morning news but I don’t pay much attention. I just listen to her voice while caring for the morning business. Looking at her is difficult due to the aforementioned personality suspicion and my desperate nature as it relates to the same. Maybe the overcast sky will continue aligning with my mood this morning. I can only hope. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I ended up working on the model for a few hours yesterday in favor of doing anything else. The building process can be very calming and I fully embraced it, along with a nice cocktail and one of my programs on the big television. I was comfortable for a while, although there are rarely times when I can let everything go and fully relax. There can be no predicting the way I’ll feel later today. All I can do is wait and see what happens. 0919 and the coffee is here on the table. The last cup. That means about two and a half cups in total, which is the norm. I’ve been using the same ceramic mug for ten years, possibly longer. Others always seem to like the way it looks, but for me the attraction is the handle and the fit to my own hand. It is super comfortable, heavy or not. Moreover, the mug is quite literally one of a kind because it was made by hand courtesy of a pottery company that pops up from time to time at the big Christmas fair. No one else in the world has a mug quite the same. They have a signature method for creating the top of the handle that results in a very unique fit. I think about some of the items I use daily because a few are very old. One of my two travel mugs was a gift in ninety-six, believe it or not, and I still use it almost every weekend during the morning drive. It’s interesting how time can make an ordinary inanimate object very special. As an aside, I can also point out that I have a beer mug from a factory that was purchased in seventy-seven. Yep, a mug that is forty-seven years old this month. Maybe I’ll sit here all fucking day. Hmm. 1055. No more coffee. We have changed to whiskey for reasons of good form (and nerve-calming). The morning cocktail is one of very few aspects of living that helps me feel even a little bit ‘free’. Usually when I feel as I do right now, I’ll spend a little bit of money on something that can put a smile on my face. I don’t know if spending is a good idea right now, though, because I recently expanded my hand tool array and should probably take a long pause. Well, if some crazy windfall comes along, I shall continue to add to what has become another hobby – being prepared to work on virtually anything. Anyway, all tool fantasies aside, the routine is finished and I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. If I go with my feelings, nothing else will be accomplished until dinner preparations. The shelves are still waiting, there is plenty of organization to be done, and there is always cleaning to do. I just don’t know if I can rise out of the din enough to actually take care of any more shit today. Jesus fucking hell is Julie ever adorable. What? What did you say? I’m pathetic? I already know that. Try something new for a change. And keep in mind that there are far worse beliefs inside my head than anything you can possibly throw in my direction. Fuck off and shut up. I need to worship her vulva for a calendar month. Sue me. I don’t care. She’s so cute that all sorts of things go through my head when she smiles. Julie is unbelievable to look at and carries one of my favorite names. Remember the ‘j’ thingy? Yep. I’d like to play with her breasts, too. Fucking shoot me. Wednesday is here whether or not I am ready for it. I have a longer morning due to an altered schedule. My routine will probably commence a little bit later than usual. If today works out anything like yesterday, the daily routine will be all I do for the entire day. I couldn’t do much of anything due to everything hitting me at once, most notably the images all over the southwest that I was perusing two days ago. Yes, it means that much to me. This morning I have another damned weight to carry in the form of a dream that I partially recall. I was in a good place only to awaken and find myself nowhere near the same. There are bits and pieces; travel, packing and such. I remember thinking that I had to leave some things behind and wait until a second visit to bring the rest. One of the items I had to leave was my truck of all things, and it was in pieces. I don’t understand that reference at all. There is not much else left to my memory, unfortunately. A lingering feeling that I was doing well – or being happy about something important – is keeping me from fully concentrating on what I’d like to say. I can’t recall, though. I wish I could. At least the other problem didn’t rear its head and leave me overly sad. I don’t need that shit. Honestly, I could go on forever without it and perhaps feel a little bit better than I do right now. Unfortunately, dreams will always come and go, and no aspect of such a fact is under anyone’s control. As for the purity, well... That is something I have to come to terms with or it will kill me. Any morning that I don’t wake up recalling the purity is a good thing. The rest of today is going to go well or not. I have no idea which, but I can try to make it the former. Coffee first. After? The usual for a while. After that? Not a fucking clue. As I said before, I will try. Sometimes when I am heading to bed at night, I’ll say goodnight to the cats and muse, ‘It’s all over for today, fellas. We’ll try again tomorrow’. Whatever that means – likely a deep-seated realization that I am no longer capable of very much – the sentiment is almost daily. Sitting here right now with the last cup of coffee, the day appears wide-open. The reality is I just don’t fucking know. The time is now 0932 and I am about as relaxed as possible considering everything inside my head. I captured Julie’s face during a short moment of a menacing expression toward her fictional husband. That girl can go from super cute to overly frightening in less than a second, and I kind of like it. The fact lends to her ability as an actor as well as the unique nature of her facial structure. You can see the image here. Just a thought. Anyway, I don’t know what the rest of the day will hold beyond the norm. I wish I could predict such things. We shall see forsooth. Time for housework. 1037. The fatass cocktail next to me is a clear indication that the morning work is finished. From here, who is to know? Will I work on the shelves? The window trim? The side splash? How about sitting on my ass in the dining room and continuing the car build? Further organization and lighting business in the garage, perhaps? Those are the lowest priorities, to be honest, and any answer at this point is meaningless. I don’t know where to go from here, but if I attempt to tackle any of the above, the steps will be short and quick. I just don’t fucking know if I can do much. The shit situations and their damage to my mental and emotional states continue to increase in weight and severity. I am seeing other aspects of life that did not seem to relate years ago but have recently become subject to those periods. I am referring to simple things like housework being interrupted by overwhelming emotions that debilitate me more often than I’d care to admit. Daily, actually. The comforts I strive to enjoy are necessary for providing comfort and some sort of separation from the reality that lives inside my head. Little things, such as one of my shows in the background or my many conversations with the cats often have the power to alleviate desperation and fear enough to allow me to be at peace for a time. Of course, I must disinclude those visions on the screen that bring everything back. Still, I know of the genesis of so many bad feelings and so much damage. Had I realized some of this thirteen years ago while holed up on the cave, fewer individuals in this town would have ever met me. I honestly did not think of shit situation number two back then, nor did I consider the other family member who exacerbated the entire affair with one little fucking comment. My focus was on situation number one due to how much disdain I felt for someone as she related thoughts and considerations along the same lines. That woman was the finest example of literal uncaring, at the same time providing warmth and loving comfort that I quickly began to distrust. Believe me, I know more than I care to at this point in time. The second situation did not truly slap me in the face until years later when I began to sit here and ask the most difficult questions imaginable. All this shit comes to mind often and leaves me unable to do ANYTHING aside from standing between the living and dining rooms while staring into empty space like some sort of mental patient. I hate it. That type of situation is the main reason why I occasionally blast the music of life in an angry manner. Julie is lying on the deck of a boat with her knees up and paired. I think you know where I go with that one. All those beautiful lines... Right there. If I could only see them. Did you notice the pattern here? All over the place. As for Julie in that position, well... I am feeling a strong need to demonstrate my desire to please her and leave that woman with zero doubt of the same. What I wouldn’t fucking give to slather her (gently). God damn is she ever adorable. All over the place. Basket case. Pathetic. Someone just taped a notice to my door. I have to check it out. Shit. No, not the notice. It’s a plan for a discount for having the lateral replaced. I had that done three years ago so the plan does not apply to this house. I opened the big garage door to take a look and ended up speaking with a neighbor from up the street for a few minutes. Well, this side of the street was covered by a gentleman while the opposite side – just beyond where my neighbor was standing with his dogs – was covered by a very tall, slender young woman whom I immediately needed to see closer and more clearly. Damn. I entertained the thought of calling her over here on the pretense that I have extensive knowledge of the lateral replacement process, but seconds later realized my stance and demeanor would have been a bit scary to her. I am worsening as time passes. She is gone, thankfully, and I am one small notch further down. She had beautiful, dark flowing hair, too. Christ only knows what I may have seen after the distance closed. Wow. What the fuck have I become? There is an upside, however, and that is the fact that I already know the results of any possible contact and work to avoid such an occurrence. I already know I’ll be fucked up more than prior to that type of thing. It’s bad for me, but very good for others, namely that beauty that strolled by across the street. There is also a downside. I am now less capable of doing more work around the house than I had been before seeing her. Whatever. I know what I am (for the most part). I will never know if she was something special, much like many others. I will never fucking know and will probably die lacking such knowledge. I need it, but my needs don't matter. I need to run my tongue all up and down Julie’s delicate labia. Shut up. But... Can you imagine how delicious it may be? How beautiful? HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Again... Shut up. I would worship her. At some point I need to move into the kitchen and make a marinade for some kabobs that I’ll be grilling for dinner. The recipe calls for four hours. I still have some time. Why did I have to see that girl on the sidewalk? WHY??? I have to get away from the control system for a little while. Shit. Another day has disappeared into the past. I am one day older. Interesting? No... Because people cannot help but to conceptualize the universe and their places within it from the standpoint of their own consciousness. There is pretty much no way around that one. I suppose a person could have an out-of-body experience and define that as being outside their own mind, although few people are going to believe such a story. Again... A single consciousness. Yesterday is gone for good. For myself, the loss represents different stages and levels of importance regarding the hours I spent here at home. I see the time as having disappeared for the most part, some of the morning spent in the shed, yet still lots of waste and loss. Yes, I put up the shelves and reorganized that space a little bit so everything is more accessible. The whole project took less than an hour and I am pleased with the results. As for the remainder of time? Lost. I have no idea what will happen today. This point in the day – sitting here gathering thoughts, sipping coffee and partially paying attention to the program that is running – often seems like the most rewarding as opposed to the early afternoon when I typically lose my way completely and have to force something. Unfortunately, this point in the day does not last very long. This paragraph is very haphazard. Ugh. I lose my way mentally almost as often as I do emotionally. Not good. Anyway, the morning is quiet and pleasant and I have a bit of coffee left. I’ll do what I can. As usual, this is going nowhere. The same shit every day... Nowhere. 45 days. 3271 days. How many are left?" Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Day Thirty-Four Mature content No. 417 Published July 27th, 2024 8:23am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Julie’s eyebrows are the key. I just noticed. Her eyebrows are the reason for such a unique face. Well, there is a mechanical relationship between her eyes and eyebrows and that is the reason, honestly, not just her eyebrows alone. The entire picture makes me want to demonstrate my vast appreciation for Julie’s appearance. Tuesday morning. The holiday is this Thursday. I still don’t know how I feel about it, although I do intend to set up the grill on the driveway like I have for the last decade. That is the only day of the year when I expect to hear all of the illegal fireworks; other days are unacceptable, yet they occur anyway because people need attention. I do not. All I need is to enjoy the driveway time, cook some hot dogs and relax. I usually try to make the area look nice, too. This week is all fucked up, so tomorrow I’ll be driving to the City early and then visiting the market on the return trip. I really don’t like heading up there on a weekday. Hopefully, the holiday falling on a Thursday means some people are on vacation for the entire week. As for today, there are lots of things I can do. Finding some motivation may be tough, however, because I’ve become very disillusioned lately. More than in the past, actually. I’ll do what I can, just like most days. Going above and beyond the daily routine has become an exercise in force. I have to push pretty fucking hard to care for the smallest items that do not appear on the routine’s list. I passed all of them by yesterday and have no idea of whether or not I will be able to rise above the din today. There is so much shit in my head from the past that I know in advance that working on the house or other projects will not alleviate much of it at all. There are precious few moments throughout the average day that I find myself distracted from this condition and no way of predicting how or when they may occur. Tuesday is gone. Wednesday is underway. I made the drive this morning – a very smooth journey despite this being a weekday – and stopped at the market on the way back. My planning worked well, too. I left a tad earlier in anticipation of a slow ride, but I believe lots of people are already on vacation thanks to the holiday tomorrow. Now I have my coffee and the entire day ahead to do as I please. To say that I’m overjoyed to be home again would be an understatement. Visiting the market helped to secure everything I need for the barbeque on the driveway tomorrow. The scene will be as it has been for the last several years... Flags out, chairs and table near the open garage, and a buffet setup on top of the washer and dryer. All of that is typical of me. I’ll probably be on the fence about the whole thing today and then get a bit excited about it tomorrow. As for right now, I could take it or leave it. The plan is to relax for a little while and then take care of the daily routine, after which I may head to the garage to continue what I started yesterday. That is painting the framework around the mural to add a little contrast to all that plywood. Gray is the color of choice to match the inner sections, the idea being similar to a matte board between a picture and its frame to accentuate details that may otherwise go unnoticed. I’ll work on it later if the garage is not too warm. For now, I should polish off the coffee and do some housework. 1110. No more coffee. Whiskey time is here. I finished the routine and straightened the living room and dining area a bit. The weather is quite warm for this time of day, although I am still thankful because the valleys are experiencing excessive heat this week. The forecast calls for a high of 73 here, whereas one of the cities in which I lived years ago will likely top 100. One of the reasons I moved to the coast is the climate here. Two-plus decades in the valley forced my hand when it came to heat. I guess I became tired of the temperatures out there after so many years and wished to reside on the coast for a very long time. The move was ill-advised at the time and caused a landslide of destructive consequences, and now that everything has mellowed I can enjoy the weather (somewhat). Whenever a heat wave hits this area it ends up very short-lived. The house is the only problem due to lack of insulation, but I do have a plan to take care of the attic during the less sunny months. That will make a big difference, although the walls cannot be insulated unless the sheetrock comes down. One step at a time, I suppose. Anyway, all weather issues aside, I will do what I can during the next few hours and see how things shape up, including the mural frame. The idea is to neutralize the coloration of the wood to add an accent, and then consider some lettering down both of the vertical panels. I am on the fence about the latter, but considering the contrast as it stands right now, I’ll be painting the rest of the bordering plywood whenever the mood strikes. I may also add a bit of detail within the framework. The time is now 1301 and my day has only slightly advanced. I’ve been routed again. Squished, for the most part. I don’t like it one bit because those two situations have created the person sitting at this control center right fucking now. My best path for the remainder of the day is to remain quiet. Well, somewhat quiet. I intend to work in the garage for a little while so I can come up with a few harebrained constructs for tomorrow. I have an inordinate amount of smaller fireworks and would like to create something more elaborate with each group. Years of holding an explosive handler’s license combined with engineering skills up the wazoo have driven me to exercise both at the same time. That means some unorthodox displays that can sit atop my elevated platform to emphasize the dramatic nature of all that knowledge. I may come up with a few ideas, or I may not. At this moment I am feeling a tad irritated due to the squishing, so anything I attempt to build will take more time than originally anticipated. No worries. The booze is flowing like a two-bit whore. Everything will soon seem more appealing regardless of improvement. Today is the holiday for which I made some preparations yesterday. The flags are out. The garage is empty of its typical car and everything is in decent order. My head is not going to be into the work for a while, however, because there was a little something in my vision (again) during the evening that needs to run its course. There are too many reverse keywords that should be applied; several that I cannot splay within this content. Moreover, I went to one of the local news sites to see if there was anything interesting going on, and there she was again. Zoe. Damn... She is something else, I tell you. Between yesterday and being reminded of how unique Zoe is just now, my head is awash with deep feelings and a very clear sense of loss. As if that’s not enough, I had to switch programs again over there on the right-hand display because the gangsters were having trouble in the stream. I only have a few episodes left but can’t seem to get through them in good time. Switching means trouble caused by this show because of the occasional beauty plus being reminded of the spoils of the 1236 period. I’ve noticed that the further that era fades into the past, the more I recall little details that I probably didn’t appreciate enough at the time. That was when I first bought an advanced television and began to see video entertainment like never before, and this show was a part of that. My favorites suddenly looked totally different and I went goo-ga over the change. That period was magical for several reasons and will eventually be labeled as another afterglow. There were problems all over the place, for sure, but right now the program on the display is reminding me of when it first aired roughly eighteen years ago, and to detail it a bit further, that was during the beginning of my third year in that apartment. There is no way I could ever overstate just how special the entertainment had become during that period, nor can I sit here and state that all was ‘good’ for three years. Between the computer, the television and my truck, there was always something to enjoy at home, and when out, well... Lots of camping and other trips combined with dinners at my favorite restaurants on many occasions adds up to one of the most pleasant times in memory. As for the problems, the car wash girl appeared toward the end, and then my obsession spiraled out of control and severely interfered with my ability to live with any semblance of balance or very comfortably. I quickly became preoccupied with certain details of form and beauty and believe me when I say that the condition impacted every aspect of living. All this shit because of the program I decided to follow for a while. Marvelous. Getting back to the one-two punch of the sighting yesterday and seeing Zoe this morning, I can feel the obsession pulling at me, and the depth of physical desire that has been generated over the years forces me to look back and wonder if the 1236 period was actually the very beginning of me sliding into a never-ending pit of damaging thoughts and desperate needs that cannot be fulfilled. Once this morning progresses further, I’ll hopefully be able to push that shit aside for a while and take care of business. The time on the clock is a mere 0758. I have all day to set up my stuff. Once the coffee period is finished – and I am here to say it will continue to roll along very slowly because I don’t fucking care – I’ll get to the quick routine and then transition to the garage for a while. Everything is going to be difficult because I am almost constantly lamenting the loss of the past and condemning the passage of time. There is much more, too, such as the herd mentality and all of the shitty attitudes and posturing that goes with it, but that crap will have to wait. I’ve gone over it before, anyway, so maybe my words won’t matter once again. Losing the past is far worse than anything else I can imagine right now. I put animated images of Meghan all over this entry because she makes me want to jump off a cliff sometimes. And Zoe is gracing the page again because after only a handful of days, I already have feelings for her, believe it or not. 0923. The last of the coffee is here on the table. I’ve been shopping a bit for necessities and considering how to proceed with the rest of the morning. Julie looks beautiful and frightening at the same time right now. Wow. Anyway, I need to streamline some areas today in and around preparing for grilling time, likely around four this afternoon. I also need to make a salad. The routine will be very quick due to everything being so slow yesterday thanks to the heat. Today is likely to be warm again, so I’ll have to do my best to keep the house as cool as possible. I never installed the big exhaust blower in the attic. Shit. Whatever. Time for some work. 1035. The routine is finished. That is one less item on my list today. I still need to clean the bathroom because there will be a person visiting this afternoon. I see that my neighbor is up much earlier than usual, likely to swap his old washer and dryer for new units. I am not going to help because I really don’t want to see anyone right now. Anyway, I have my typical drink here on the table and the show cruising along over to the right. The left-hand display is carrying the IDE. I don’t know why I pointed that one out. My plan from here forward is to continue a break for a little while and then take care of more business. The garage setup will be pretty simple, as will the rest of the housework. The jury is still out on the laundry situation. That may wait until tomorrow’s quiet time. Oh, I just remembered that I need to trim and cut some beef that will go into pasta sauce that’s been melding in the refrigerator. The longer it sits, the better the flavor. I probably won’t make pasta for dinner until Saturday or Sunday. Add water; simmer again; wonderful. And just because he guest stars in much of this season, I have to point out that Jimmy Smits is fucking awesome in everything. He’s been one of my very favorites for decades. I’m going to secure ownership of another series just so I can watch his role again. The current season means I get to marvel at Smits as well as David Zayas. Fucking awesome at every step. ‘You’ve got a lot of potential in you. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.’ – Miguel Prado Friday. I am a little bit slow this morning due to being up late and partially blowing a gasket just before going to sleep. I tired of the scene and one person treating me like a fucking servant, and nearly blew up completely. Fortunately, I found the patience to think everything through. That was the end of the night, thankfully. This morning I am going to take it easy and do the minimum. Relaxation and operating at my own pace are the two biggest advantages of being here all the time and not working anymore. Today they will both operate at their respective limits. I need to take it easy for a while, and since there is no City drive tomorrow (and none yesterday), I’ll have most of the weekend to consider options and think about everything. Earlier I mentioned streamlining, and due to being a bit more tired than usual, I believe today and the weekend can be perfect for such an activity. On top of all this time and so many relaxing considerations, I am probably going to order lunch so I can have something really rewarding rather than the usual stuff. I really need to get my shit in order. Sometimes I feel too spread out to respond if the world goes sideways. I can’t have that. The usual stuff will not be a problem because it never is. Zoe is a new problem carried to me by a very old one. Yes, I do feel something for her because I can see her personality come through no matter what she may be saying or what expression may be all over her face in an image. Personality. Yes, she is very tall and slender yet still carries curves, and that information drives me fucking insane because the torment is not knowing ‘why’ or ‘how’ combined with an inability to speak with her about it, or at least try to describe my feelings. This is torture. She will never know me and that is perfectly fine. I will never know her, either, and such a fact is fucking horrible. I just have to sit on the feelings. As I said, emotions are pushing ahead of any desire. The biggest problem here is her personality because I can see very clearly the type of person she is, yet I can never connect with such a soul. She is very likely the exact type of connection of which I’ve been dreaming for four-plus years. Nope. Nothing is going to happen because I am too far gone these days and there is no way back. I am too fucking broken. My feelings for her are only going to deepen and then I’ll be even worse off than I am right now. She is so far beyond unique that I couldn’t get the point across in a thousand years. I need to learn of her height because I am still fascinated by someone so thin that stands pretty damned tall. The overall appearance is stirring beyond description. The only downside to such height is that more often than not, the woman’s face does not match at all, resulting in a very frightening overall look. I can’t describe that one, either, but I will say that Zoe is the diametric opposite of the scary shit. She is beautiful, sure, but there is an underlying feeling that stems from her silly mannerisms and exaggerated motions while speaking. I can already tell that she is a certain type of person, one to which I’ve been highly attracted since my time in the military. That is a long fucking period of time, I tell you; more than thirty-five years. That means I know precisely what I am saying here. Just trust it... Zoe matches something that has eluded me for decades. And no, Ashley was not an example of that type of personality. She was different from what I feel for Zoe. I would still feel as strongly even if Zoe wasn’t so fucking beautiful. Everything is inside. Like I said, this is an unexpected problem that has effectively thrown a wrench into the mechanical works of living. ‘Just a fly in the ointment, Hans; a monkey in the wrench.’ – John McClane, as directed by the great John Mc Tiernan. I already love Zoe because I am fucked in the head. She is different, believe me. There have been many others, from various amazing forms that caused my obsession to severely flare to faces that conveyed caring and kindness. The most recent (and I can't employ certain terms here for good reason) was that Asian girl at the produce market back in May. She was unlike anything I'd seen in quite a while. The truth is no matter what may come along from now until whenever, the emotional impact that Zoe has had upon me cannot be easily equaled and it supercedes any fucking gorgeous lines. 1113. I moved the car back to its home and straightened everything from last night. I also took care of the routine and popped lunch into the oven. Ordering something will be too expensive. From here forward, all I will be doing is drying the dishes and putting them away. Dinner will be leftovers. Simple. Friday is now in the past. Yep, as you may have suspected. I obsessed over Zoe again this morning and ended up in pain. Apparently, she moved to this area from another part of the nation and is going to be on the broadcast each morning. Splendid. Can I change the channel and watch a different morning news program? Probably not. I am far too weak to avoid staring at her and feeling my heart flutter all over the place. Seeing Zoe a little while ago as she sported an elegant dress and four-inch heels was the first occasion that showed off her height and incredible stance. Yes, the shoes boosted her up quite a bit, but standing next to the male anchor confirmed what I suspected for days, and then I learned that she does indeed stand five-eight with no shoes on. That fact, when combined with the fact that Zoe does not carry the requisite modern-day shit-infested shape that has pervaded society for more than a decade leaves me with deep-seated feelings inside. Her personality comes through quite a bit and I can see that the woman is PRECISELY the type for which I’ve been searching all these years. Damn it all, anyway. This just fucking figures. She is unbelievable and is driving me down with all haste. So, today is Saturday and I have a shitload of free time prior to any responsibilities. The main project today is to help with a small item later this afternoon. I need to modify a prosthetic (nothing serious) by cutting, smoothing and polishing a very small piece of metal. That is something with which I am fluent and have been for many years. Other than that – which, believe it or not, will be the most difficult part of my day – I only have the usual stuff to do. If I can get the second goddess of the universe out of my fucking head, the morning should move along just fine. The house is nice and quiet, I have my morning coffee, and the program is gracing the right-hand display like always. My work today is going to be interrupted often by images of Zoe’s gorgeous face and kind eyes. I can’t help it. I need what I need, and when someone comes along showing off evidence of precisely what has been missing from life, nothing I can do will be powerful enough to remove her, even for a little while. This is a constant desire, and she has become the focal point. Pieces of me are missing. Does she have them? God help me 0912. My last cup of coffee is next to the keyboard. When it’s gone, I’ll hop to the routine and then get a few things ready for my afternoon project. That will not be a problem. Other plans are to finally cut two shelves for the shed, move a few more items to that space, and then consider options for reconfiguring one of the tall cabinets in the garage. Dinner is already mostly made, too. All I have to do is reheat the pasta sauce, flash the meat and then combine everything. It will simmer for a little while and be served over roasted potatoes. The meal should be pretty good since the sauce has been resting in the refrigerator for three days. Lots of flavor, I hope. Tomorrow’s business may enjoy a head start today because between the packing material from the scooter and the fireworks, I need to compact as much as possible to fit what I can into the trash. I believe two weeks will be enough to get rid of everything. Might be three. I’ll know tomorrow, but as for starting the process, I’ll probably do some of the work later today. In less than an hour, I’ll have a fatass cocktail to calm my inner turmoil and torment over Zoe and her pull upon my heart. I need her more than anything else in the world and must deal with the idea that nothing will ever come of my feelings. The housework will help for a little while. I was squished again the other night and began to flip the fuck out. A few moments later, I regained my composure and calmed enough to relax a little bit. Being squished does not seem to register to other people. The way I am treated after doing nothing more than helping every single fucking person who has requested it is reprehensible and I can’t fucking stand it anymore. At the same time, I continue to be nice to everyone. Why is that? Why am I continually treated like a fucking doormat? The other night was horrible, yet I don’t feel terrible about it because my recovery from nearly blowing my top was outstanding, and I am actually proud of myself. Attacking someone when I am hurt is not going to solve anything. What I need to do is sit back, bide my time, and plan a way to convey my feelings that requires calm, controlled and calculated phrasing. I am usually pretty damned good at it, too, but when anger takes over, my brain ends up partially derailed and articulating my feelings becomes an exercise in futility. The best way to proceed when that happens is to simply clam up and remain that way as long as possible. Being routed or squished hurts me much more now than it did just a few years ago. My first thought is always the same, too. Unfortunately, I cannot act on it. 1543. The usual stuff is finished, I worked on the model a bit more, and the laundry is nearly done. Not bad. I also compacted the big box so it can be tossed a little at a time. The cardboard will be gone, but all that other foam and shit may not fit. The aforementioned project is modifying something very important. I have it on good authority that it will arrive in roughly thirty minutes. Cutting and smoothing a small piece of metal will not take long at all, meaning I can get into some relaxation afterward. I might go back to the model for a little while. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Once the item arrives, I’ll take care of the modification fairly quickly. Everything I’ve done today pushed Zoe out of my head for a while, thankfully. She’s right there, but I’ve been dealing with the feelings pretty well thus far. I have to drive to the City in the morning, meaning the television will be dark until later in the day. That’s good. The tough part of feeling this way is that most of the visions and crushes (or whatevers) I’ve experienced resulted from watching programs from decades in the past. Zoe is on the fucking news. She is ‘current’, if you will, and there is nothing I can do about it. Zoe is just up the highway about twenty minutes from me. What a fucking dream. Juliette was a dream, as were a few others. Zoe is unattainable, unavailable, and pretty much every other fucking conceivable ‘un’ in existence. God damn would I ever love her to hold me. Anyway, the time has come for a bit of cutting and polishing. 1653. Well, there were two items. Both are now finished and the entire shitaree took less than ten minutes. I just know my shit too well these days. Add up all those years of troubleshooting, engineering, mechanical and electronic experience and there is little I can’t figure out anymore. I guess that’s a plus. Now I have free time until dinner preparations with my extended family in the background, like every day. Zoe is still swirling through my head. She is something else, I tell you. Cocktail hour might arrive a touch earlier than usual. Just saying. I’ll try to avoid using the word ‘need’. Eh... Fuck it. I need her more than I could possibly describe. Ugh. NEED. There you go. The feeling goes far beyond a fucking drink. I am desperate like never before. There is little left for me to do this afternoon. The dinner thingy is merely simmering and cutting some potatoes. No big deal. Dinner is typically pretty late compared to many others, so my time is very flexible. Sunday morning is here, and I am pleased to have completed the drive without issues or any significant slowdowns. Sunday is always the quietest time to drive. I know in advance that arriving home again is not far away, and here I sit. Business will wait until later because I need time to relax and consider my options for the day as well as how to deal with the torture of knowing she is right over there and a billion miles away at the same time. I edited a couple more images of her that will be included in a later entry. Big surprise. Last night’s dinner became further simplified thanks to good planning, so my routine today will be pretty easy. I have the usual garbage business, too. Perhaps there will be ample time for relaxing in and around the chores. I hope so, anyway. Garbage is one of those items I need to consider because I’ve been feeling like streamlining everything again. That means shit has to go out the door; a process I usually enjoy. I’ll get into it soon. I have to remove as much of her from my mind as possible or my day will go all to hell very quickly. Everything I do every single day is to fill time. That is all. Distractions. Lunch that I can enjoy. Nothing more. Every single fucking move is to attempt to get that woman out of my brain enough to relax, even for a little while. Typing is a part of that process, too. Anyway, maybe I can organize a little more today in and around the garbage business. I still need to cut and mount the shelves, but any effort may help. Some direction might push her away for a little while. I can only hope because right now my heart is aching. I wish I hadn’t seen her that first day. Watching a different network would have helped, although I’ll have more choices once the live television subscription kicks in next month. If I go back to the morning news that I used to watch during football season, she will not appear at all. Wrong network. But... The big question... Will I be able to avoid seeing her? No idea. I am so fucking weak that a strong breeze could mean the end of me. Unbelievable. The road out of this place is once again illuminated. The woman is in my heart, and nothing even remotely close to such an occurrence would have happened if I could live like a grown-up. Or balanced. Or something. Eh... This is all so fucked up. My heart involved itself pretty damned quickly. Very bad. On the upside, at least I know how screwed I am. Some people go through this kind of shit and think doing so is normal. Heh. What a fucking maroon. 0851. I’ll begin to feel restless very soon. The coffee and my program can combine to keep me sitting here for quite some time, but today I can already feel the weather warming and I’d like to get a head start on things. And... I might love her already. Shit. Not good. I often say that the face is key. Well, hers seems to be absolutely ideal. I lost track again. I guess that’s why the last few entries have not had decent titles. As for this morning, I have the last of the coffee next to me. I’ll begin the routine when it is gone. 1502. Woe is me. I should not have tried to secure more images of her. Big fucking mistake. No, not because I am enamored with her. The reason is the set of images. They showed off much more than her beauty. I saw her all over the southwest... Vacations in wondrous places that I will probably not see again, and others I’ve never visited. I thought I was in the minority regarding my love for the desert. Nope. At least her appearance faded fairly quickly. Being reminded of where I am in life often supersedes everything else, and that includes my obsession as well as other desires. Moreover, I went to the garage to allow time for the dishes to dry and realized the weather is going to be much warmer than I had anticipated earlier this morning. Most of my Sunday business is finished – a good thing considering the temperature – but I believe the remainder of the day will go nowhere. ‘Woe’ almost matches ‘Zoe’. Interesting. I am a basket case. The men with the butterfly nets should be here soon. Monday is here and Zoe has been on the television all morning. Crap. Her personality is so fucking cute. Yesterday I used my amazing software to secure more than 500 images of her. I’ll get into the ramifications of such a maneuver in a little while. I’ve been looking forward to having some time at the control center with coffee, and here it is. My program is over there on the right, the IDE to the left (like I work with it much these days), and I have plenty of time for whatever I wish to do. I’ll be visiting the market in an hour or so to pick up a few items. Anything there to be seen will not matter very much after all this Zoe crap. I’m still all goo-ga over her, meaning whatever else comes along shouldn’t affect me very much, if at all. Her pull upon my being is constant and very painful. I don’t think a pair of fucking pants is going to make any difference whatsoever. Zoe is either going to run the course or end up another Jamie (or Nora or Jolene). I really don’t want to adjust the portmanteau I created in order to add a fourth name. Making such an addition is another step toward the fucking basement. Splendid. Monday means the garbage is reset, dinners for the week are planned, and one of my favorite, calming activities begins anew. It also means that I need not drive to the City until Saturday at the earliest. That is very good. The morning is when I often do my best thinking, and five in a row looks very nice. Sometimes shit goes sideways, but since discovering Zoe and her amazing features, I’ve been focused enough to avoid any imperial entanglements. Something may come along and disrupt this process, though. I must remain vigilant. I need her very badly, and I need to know if my suspicions are correct. Unfortunately, I’ll have to take care of my usual daily work because knowing her and finding answers are both fucking impossible. Another sad situation; another missing piece. This day will progress just like all the others and I’ll hit the evening and relax. All in good time. On the inside, however, nothing changes. Time will continue to pass regardless of all of the pain. There is no stopping this progression of events. It is endless. Is Zoe the savior? No, not mine, but a savior nonetheless? Is Zoe... ‘Her’? 0922. I have a little bit of coffee left. When it’s gone, I’ll hit half the routine and then head to the market so I can return and enjoy the morning cocktail. None of my work today will take very long, either, so if I decide to go outside the norm I’ll have plenty of time. I cut the two shelves for the shed yesterday but did not mount them. The weather is overcast and cool right now. If it remains the same until later, I’ll go out there and finish that project. Keeping the shed as organized as possible is very important to me. The shelves have been on my mind for the last two weeks or more. Everything is here, too. All I have to do is measure, mount them and level both panels. These days, the tiniest project often appears enormous and I freeze for days on end when thinking about finishing. I used to be more capable and much more productive. The future is always labeled as ‘wide open’. I wish I could believe that. I may or may not get to the shelves today. Right now I just don’t fucking know what I will be capable of later. I see through the window that the fog is thinning just a bit to the east. Looks like the sun will be shining soon. I’ll have to cut this off and get to the store before it’s too bright out there. 1110. Cocktail hour is here, thankfully. The routine is out of the way, I ventured to the market and picked up the necessary items, and I have laundry running. Overall, this is a typical Monday. Now that my regular stuff is finished, I can consider lunch and other options. I have to say the quiet nature of this house can often be very therapeutic, and today is no different. Part of me is being driven toward relaxing at the dining table to work on the model car. The plan is to finish the current model and then grab another, the latter being the subject of many images a couple of years ago. It is unique because of one specific operation during construction that is dubbed ‘the marriage’. Think of a vehicle being built in two halves – front and rear, to be precise – and then ‘married’ by aligning more than fifteen components while joining those major sections. It is fucking amazing and the design work involved in developing such a model is mind-boggling. Well, to me, anyway. I will assemble the two sections and then document the marriage by taking images of each step. I did not do anything of the sort the last time I built that car. I still have yet to generate enough funds to acquire the Ferrari. Too bad. That one would be new and exciting, and another model for some fantastic digital imaging. Anyway, as for the rest of this day, the laundry will likely be the only actual work. I would like to relax and enjoy my afternoon rather than laboring in the shed or garage. This process is now so fucking far beyond ridiculous that I can’t even begin to believe it. Downward has been the trajectory for decades. Another day has disappeared, never to return. One more day; one less day. Dreams involving purity and connection are foggy, yet still present in my mind. I really don’t need to be reminded of where I am in life, especially considering all of the images of Zoe I found yesterday. My dreams of traveling and exploring the southwest came to mind once I began browsing. Yep... Her photos show off travel to all sorts of places. Very active, that girl. Contrarily, I hole up in this little house with various problems dictating my movements, thoughts and desires. I don’t go anywhere. I sit here and contemplate. I look at places I’ve been and places I want to visit, and then along comes this fucking goddess beyond comprehension with images of her traveling all over the place. Big, bright smiles; lots of fun, I would think. Zoe strikes me as a very positive person, quite the reverse of myself. Well, that doesn’t matter because she may as well not even be real. There is nothing for me related to her. Not a fucking thing. I no longer have the capacity to connect or be pleasant for very long before the shit returns and hits me in the head. I can’t be good for anyone, ever. I will still look at her beauty, though, because I have to see her big, beautiful eyes sometimes. The dreams from earlier this morning are going to continue to be a problem. Whenever the purity is involved (or even hinted at), my head has trouble letting go of the reference enough to focus upon other concerns. This is worse than dreaming about Zoe or anyone else because the indications at this point in time are all directing me to the same, sad conclusion. All I can do for the time being is sit here and hope everything fades enough for me to be productive or at least the slightest bit comfortable. She is on the morning news but I don’t pay much attention. I just listen to her voice while caring for the morning business. Looking at her is difficult due to the aforementioned personality suspicion and my desperate nature as it relates to the same. Maybe the overcast sky will continue aligning with my mood this morning. I can only hope. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I ended up working on the model for a few hours yesterday in favor of doing anything else. The building process can be very calming and I fully embraced it, along with a nice cocktail and one of my programs on the big television. I was comfortable for a while, although there are rarely times when I can let everything go and fully relax. There can be no predicting the way I’ll feel later today. All I can do is wait and see what happens. 0919 and the coffee is here on the table. The last cup. That means about two and a half cups in total, which is the norm. I’ve been using the same ceramic mug for ten years, possibly longer. Others always seem to like the way it looks, but for me the attraction is the handle and the fit to my own hand. It is super comfortable, heavy or not. Moreover, the mug is quite literally one of a kind because it was made by hand courtesy of a pottery company that pops up from time to time at the big Christmas fair. No one else in the world has a mug quite the same. They have a signature method for creating the top of the handle that results in a very unique fit. I think about some of the items I use daily because a few are very old. One of my two travel mugs was a gift in ninety-six, believe it or not, and I still use it almost every weekend during the morning drive. It’s interesting how time can make an ordinary inanimate object very special. As an aside, I can also point out that I have a beer mug from a factory that was purchased in seventy-seven. Yep, a mug that is forty-seven years old this month. Maybe I’ll sit here all fucking day. Hmm. 1055. No more coffee. We have changed to whiskey for reasons of good form (and nerve-calming). The morning cocktail is one of very few aspects of living that helps me feel even a little bit ‘free’. Usually when I feel as I do right now, I’ll spend a little bit of money on something that can put a smile on my face. I don’t know if spending is a good idea right now, though, because I recently expanded my hand tool array and should probably take a long pause. Well, if some crazy windfall comes along, I shall continue to add to what has become another hobby – being prepared to work on virtually anything. Anyway, all tool fantasies aside, the routine is finished and I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. If I go with my feelings, nothing else will be accomplished until dinner preparations. The shelves are still waiting, there is plenty of organization to be done, and there is always cleaning to do. I just don’t know if I can rise out of the din enough to actually take care of any more shit today. Jesus fucking hell is Julie ever adorable. What? What did you say? I’m pathetic? I already know that. Try something new for a change. And keep in mind that there are far worse beliefs inside my head than anything you can possibly throw in my direction. Fuck off and shut up. I need to worship her vulva for a calendar month. Sue me. I don’t care. She’s so cute that all sorts of things go through my head when she smiles. Julie is unbelievable to look at and carries one of my favorite names. Remember the ‘j’ thingy? Yep. I’d like to play with her breasts, too. Fucking shoot me. Wednesday is here whether or not I am ready for it. I have a longer morning due to an altered schedule. My routine will probably commence a little bit later than usual. If today works out anything like yesterday, the daily routine will be all I do for the entire day. I couldn’t do much of anything due to everything hitting me at once, most notably the images all over the southwest that I was perusing two days ago. Yes, it means that much to me. This morning I have another damned weight to carry in the form of a dream that I partially recall. I was in a good place only to awaken and find myself nowhere near the same. There are bits and pieces; travel, packing and such. I remember thinking that I had to leave some things behind and wait until a second visit to bring the rest. One of the items I had to leave was my truck of all things, and it was in pieces. I don’t understand that reference at all. There is not much else left to my memory, unfortunately. A lingering feeling that I was doing well – or being happy about something important – is keeping me from fully concentrating on what I’d like to say. I can’t recall, though. I wish I could. At least the other problem didn’t rear its head and leave me overly sad. I don’t need that shit. Honestly, I could go on forever without it and perhaps feel a little bit better than I do right now. Unfortunately, dreams will always come and go, and no aspect of such a fact is under anyone’s control. As for the purity, well... That is something I have to come to terms with or it will kill me. Any morning that I don’t wake up recalling the purity is a good thing. The rest of today is going to go well or not. I have no idea which, but I can try to make it the former. Coffee first. After? The usual for a while. After that? Not a fucking clue. As I said before, I will try. Sometimes when I am heading to bed at night, I’ll say goodnight to the cats and muse, ‘It’s all over for today, fellas. We’ll try again tomorrow’. Whatever that means – likely a deep-seated realization that I am no longer capable of very much – the sentiment is almost daily. Sitting here right now with the last cup of coffee, the day appears wide-open. The reality is I just don’t fucking know. The time is now 0932 and I am about as relaxed as possible considering everything inside my head. I captured Julie’s face during a short moment of a menacing expression toward her fictional husband. That girl can go from super cute to overly frightening in less than a second, and I kind of like it. The fact lends to her ability as an actor as well as the unique nature of her facial structure. You can see the image here. Just a thought. Anyway, I don’t know what the rest of the day will hold beyond the norm. I wish I could predict such things. We shall see forsooth. Time for housework. 1037. The fatass cocktail next to me is a clear indication that the morning work is finished. From here, who is to know? Will I work on the shelves? The window trim? The side splash? How about sitting on my ass in the dining room and continuing the car build? Further organization and lighting business in the garage, perhaps? Those are the lowest priorities, to be honest, and any answer at this point is meaningless. I don’t know where to go from here, but if I attempt to tackle any of the above, the steps will be short and quick. I just don’t fucking know if I can do much. The shit situations and their damage to my mental and emotional states continue to increase in weight and severity. I am seeing other aspects of life that did not seem to relate years ago but have recently become subject to those periods. I am referring to simple things like housework being interrupted by overwhelming emotions that debilitate me more often than I’d care to admit. Daily, actually. The comforts I strive to enjoy are necessary for providing comfort and some sort of separation from the reality that lives inside my head. Little things, such as one of my shows in the background or my many conversations with the cats often have the power to alleviate desperation and fear enough to allow me to be at peace for a time. Of course, I must disinclude those visions on the screen that bring everything back. Still, I know of the genesis of so many bad feelings and so much damage. Had I realized some of this thirteen years ago while holed up on the cave, fewer individuals in this town would have ever met me. I honestly did not think of shit situation number two back then, nor did I consider the other family member who exacerbated the entire affair with one little fucking comment. My focus was on situation number one due to how much disdain I felt for someone as she related thoughts and considerations along the same lines. That woman was the finest example of literal uncaring, at the same time providing warmth and loving comfort that I quickly began to distrust. Believe me, I know more than I care to at this point in time. The second situation did not truly slap me in the face until years later when I began to sit here and ask the most difficult questions imaginable. All this shit comes to mind often and leaves me unable to do ANYTHING aside from standing between the living and dining rooms while staring into empty space like some sort of mental patient. I hate it. That type of situation is the main reason why I occasionally blast the music of life in an angry manner. Julie is lying on the deck of a boat with her knees up and paired. I think you know where I go with that one. All those beautiful lines... Right there. If I could only see them. Did you notice the pattern here? All over the place. As for Julie in that position, well... I am feeling a strong need to demonstrate my desire to please her and leave that woman with zero doubt of the same. What I wouldn’t fucking give to slather her (gently). God damn is she ever adorable. All over the place. Basket case. Pathetic. Someone just taped a notice to my door. I have to check it out. Shit. No, not the notice. It’s a plan for a discount for having the lateral replaced. I had that done three years ago so the plan does not apply to this house. I opened the big garage door to take a look and ended up speaking with a neighbor from up the street for a few minutes. Well, this side of the street was covered by a gentleman while the opposite side – just beyond where my neighbor was standing with his dogs – was covered by a very tall, slender young woman whom I immediately needed to see closer and more clearly. Damn. I entertained the thought of calling her over here on the pretense that I have extensive knowledge of the lateral replacement process, but seconds later realized my stance and demeanor would have been a bit scary to her. I am worsening as time passes. She is gone, thankfully, and I am one small notch further down. She had beautiful, dark flowing hair, too. Christ only knows what I may have seen after the distance closed. Wow. What the fuck have I become? There is an upside, however, and that is the fact that I already know the results of any possible contact and work to avoid such an occurrence. I already know I’ll be fucked up more than prior to that type of thing. It’s bad for me, but very good for others, namely that beauty that strolled by across the street. There is also a downside. I am now less capable of doing more work around the house than I had been before seeing her. Whatever. I know what I am (for the most part). I will never know if she was something special, much like many others. I will never fucking know and will probably die lacking such knowledge. I need it, but my needs don't matter. I need to run my tongue all up and down Julie’s delicate labia. Shut up. But... Can you imagine how delicious it may be? How beautiful? HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Again... Shut up. I would worship her. At some point I need to move into the kitchen and make a marinade for some kabobs that I’ll be grilling for dinner. The recipe calls for four hours. I still have some time. Why did I have to see that girl on the sidewalk? WHY??? I have to get away from the control system for a little while. Shit. Another day has disappeared into the past. I am one day older. Interesting? No... Because people cannot help but to conceptualize the universe and their places within it from the standpoint of their own consciousness. There is pretty much no way around that one. I suppose a person could have an out-of-body experience and define that as being outside their own mind, although few people are going to believe such a story. Again... A single consciousness. Yesterday is gone for good. For myself, the loss represents different stages and levels of importance regarding the hours I spent here at home. I see the time as having disappeared for the most part, some of the morning spent in the shed, yet still lots of waste and loss. Yes, I put up the shelves and reorganized that space a little bit so everything is more accessible. The whole project took less than an hour and I am pleased with the results. As for the remainder of time? Lost. I have no idea what will happen today. This point in the day – sitting here gathering thoughts, sipping coffee and partially paying attention to the program that is running – often seems like the most rewarding as opposed to the early afternoon when I typically lose my way completely and have to force something. Unfortunately, this point in the day does not last very long. This paragraph is very haphazard. Ugh. I lose my way mentally almost as often as I do emotionally. Not good. Anyway, the morning is quiet and pleasant and I have a bit of coffee left. I’ll do what I can. As usual, this is going nowhere. The same shit every day... Nowhere. 45 days. 3271 days. How many are left?"
Day Thirty-Four
Mature content No. 417 Published July 27th, 2024 8:23am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Julie’s eyebrows are the key. I just noticed. Her eyebrows are the reason for such a unique face. Well, there is a mechanical relationship between her eyes and eyebrows and that is the reason, honestly, not just her eyebrows alone. The entire picture makes me want to demonstrate my vast appreciation for Julie’s appearance. Tuesday morning. The holiday is this Thursday. I still don’t know how I feel about it, although I do intend to set up the grill on the driveway like I have for the last decade. That is the only day of the year when I expect to hear all of the illegal fireworks; other days are unacceptable, yet they occur anyway because people need attention. I do not. All I need is to enjoy the driveway time, cook some hot dogs and relax. I usually try to make the area look nice, too. This week is all fucked up, so tomorrow I’ll be driving to the City early and then visiting the market on the return trip. I really don’t like heading up there on a weekday. Hopefully, the holiday falling on a Thursday means some people are on vacation for the entire week. As for today, there are lots of things I can do. Finding some motivation may be tough, however, because I’ve become very disillusioned lately. More than in the past, actually. I’ll do what I can, just like most days. Going above and beyond the daily routine has become an exercise in force. I have to push pretty fucking hard to care for the smallest items that do not appear on the routine’s list. I passed all of them by yesterday and have no idea of whether or not I will be able to rise above the din today. There is so much shit in my head from the past that I know in advance that working on the house or other projects will not alleviate much of it at all. There are precious few moments throughout the average day that I find myself distracted from this condition and no way of predicting how or when they may occur. Tuesday is gone. Wednesday is underway. I made the drive this morning – a very smooth journey despite this being a weekday – and stopped at the market on the way back. My planning worked well, too. I left a tad earlier in anticipation of a slow ride, but I believe lots of people are already on vacation thanks to the holiday tomorrow. Now I have my coffee and the entire day ahead to do as I please. To say that I’m overjoyed to be home again would be an understatement. Visiting the market helped to secure everything I need for the barbeque on the driveway tomorrow. The scene will be as it has been for the last several years... Flags out, chairs and table near the open garage, and a buffet setup on top of the washer and dryer. All of that is typical of me. I’ll probably be on the fence about the whole thing today and then get a bit excited about it tomorrow. As for right now, I could take it or leave it. The plan is to relax for a little while and then take care of the daily routine, after which I may head to the garage to continue what I started yesterday. That is painting the framework around the mural to add a little contrast to all that plywood. Gray is the color of choice to match the inner sections, the idea being similar to a matte board between a picture and its frame to accentuate details that may otherwise go unnoticed. I’ll work on it later if the garage is not too warm. For now, I should polish off the coffee and do some housework. 1110. No more coffee. Whiskey time is here. I finished the routine and straightened the living room and dining area a bit. The weather is quite warm for this time of day, although I am still thankful because the valleys are experiencing excessive heat this week. The forecast calls for a high of 73 here, whereas one of the cities in which I lived years ago will likely top 100. One of the reasons I moved to the coast is the climate here. Two-plus decades in the valley forced my hand when it came to heat. I guess I became tired of the temperatures out there after so many years and wished to reside on the coast for a very long time. The move was ill-advised at the time and caused a landslide of destructive consequences, and now that everything has mellowed I can enjoy the weather (somewhat). Whenever a heat wave hits this area it ends up very short-lived. The house is the only problem due to lack of insulation, but I do have a plan to take care of the attic during the less sunny months. That will make a big difference, although the walls cannot be insulated unless the sheetrock comes down. One step at a time, I suppose. Anyway, all weather issues aside, I will do what I can during the next few hours and see how things shape up, including the mural frame. The idea is to neutralize the coloration of the wood to add an accent, and then consider some lettering down both of the vertical panels. I am on the fence about the latter, but considering the contrast as it stands right now, I’ll be painting the rest of the bordering plywood whenever the mood strikes. I may also add a bit of detail within the framework. The time is now 1301 and my day has only slightly advanced. I’ve been routed again. Squished, for the most part. I don’t like it one bit because those two situations have created the person sitting at this control center right fucking now. My best path for the remainder of the day is to remain quiet. Well, somewhat quiet. I intend to work in the garage for a little while so I can come up with a few harebrained constructs for tomorrow. I have an inordinate amount of smaller fireworks and would like to create something more elaborate with each group. Years of holding an explosive handler’s license combined with engineering skills up the wazoo have driven me to exercise both at the same time. That means some unorthodox displays that can sit atop my elevated platform to emphasize the dramatic nature of all that knowledge. I may come up with a few ideas, or I may not. At this moment I am feeling a tad irritated due to the squishing, so anything I attempt to build will take more time than originally anticipated. No worries. The booze is flowing like a two-bit whore. Everything will soon seem more appealing regardless of improvement. Today is the holiday for which I made some preparations yesterday. The flags are out. The garage is empty of its typical car and everything is in decent order. My head is not going to be into the work for a while, however, because there was a little something in my vision (again) during the evening that needs to run its course. There are too many reverse keywords that should be applied; several that I cannot splay within this content. Moreover, I went to one of the local news sites to see if there was anything interesting going on, and there she was again. Zoe. Damn... She is something else, I tell you. Between yesterday and being reminded of how unique Zoe is just now, my head is awash with deep feelings and a very clear sense of loss. As if that’s not enough, I had to switch programs again over there on the right-hand display because the gangsters were having trouble in the stream. I only have a few episodes left but can’t seem to get through them in good time. Switching means trouble caused by this show because of the occasional beauty plus being reminded of the spoils of the 1236 period. I’ve noticed that the further that era fades into the past, the more I recall little details that I probably didn’t appreciate enough at the time. That was when I first bought an advanced television and began to see video entertainment like never before, and this show was a part of that. My favorites suddenly looked totally different and I went goo-ga over the change. That period was magical for several reasons and will eventually be labeled as another afterglow. There were problems all over the place, for sure, but right now the program on the display is reminding me of when it first aired roughly eighteen years ago, and to detail it a bit further, that was during the beginning of my third year in that apartment. There is no way I could ever overstate just how special the entertainment had become during that period, nor can I sit here and state that all was ‘good’ for three years. Between the computer, the television and my truck, there was always something to enjoy at home, and when out, well... Lots of camping and other trips combined with dinners at my favorite restaurants on many occasions adds up to one of the most pleasant times in memory. As for the problems, the car wash girl appeared toward the end, and then my obsession spiraled out of control and severely interfered with my ability to live with any semblance of balance or very comfortably. I quickly became preoccupied with certain details of form and beauty and believe me when I say that the condition impacted every aspect of living. All this shit because of the program I decided to follow for a while. Marvelous. Getting back to the one-two punch of the sighting yesterday and seeing Zoe this morning, I can feel the obsession pulling at me, and the depth of physical desire that has been generated over the years forces me to look back and wonder if the 1236 period was actually the very beginning of me sliding into a never-ending pit of damaging thoughts and desperate needs that cannot be fulfilled. Once this morning progresses further, I’ll hopefully be able to push that shit aside for a while and take care of business. The time on the clock is a mere 0758. I have all day to set up my stuff. Once the coffee period is finished – and I am here to say it will continue to roll along very slowly because I don’t fucking care – I’ll get to the quick routine and then transition to the garage for a while. Everything is going to be difficult because I am almost constantly lamenting the loss of the past and condemning the passage of time. There is much more, too, such as the herd mentality and all of the shitty attitudes and posturing that goes with it, but that crap will have to wait. I’ve gone over it before, anyway, so maybe my words won’t matter once again. Losing the past is far worse than anything else I can imagine right now.
I put animated images of Meghan all over this entry because she makes me want to jump off a cliff sometimes. And Zoe is gracing the page again because after only a handful of days, I already have feelings for her, believe it or not. 0923. The last of the coffee is here on the table. I’ve been shopping a bit for necessities and considering how to proceed with the rest of the morning. Julie looks beautiful and frightening at the same time right now. Wow. Anyway, I need to streamline some areas today in and around preparing for grilling time, likely around four this afternoon. I also need to make a salad. The routine will be very quick due to everything being so slow yesterday thanks to the heat. Today is likely to be warm again, so I’ll have to do my best to keep the house as cool as possible. I never installed the big exhaust blower in the attic. Shit. Whatever. Time for some work. 1035. The routine is finished. That is one less item on my list today. I still need to clean the bathroom because there will be a person visiting this afternoon. I see that my neighbor is up much earlier than usual, likely to swap his old washer and dryer for new units. I am not going to help because I really don’t want to see anyone right now. Anyway, I have my typical drink here on the table and the show cruising along over to the right. The left-hand display is carrying the IDE. I don’t know why I pointed that one out. My plan from here forward is to continue a break for a little while and then take care of more business. The garage setup will be pretty simple, as will the rest of the housework. The jury is still out on the laundry situation. That may wait until tomorrow’s quiet time. Oh, I just remembered that I need to trim and cut some beef that will go into pasta sauce that’s been melding in the refrigerator. The longer it sits, the better the flavor. I probably won’t make pasta for dinner until Saturday or Sunday. Add water; simmer again; wonderful. And just because he guest stars in much of this season, I have to point out that Jimmy Smits is fucking awesome in everything. He’s been one of my very favorites for decades. I’m going to secure ownership of another series just so I can watch his role again. The current season means I get to marvel at Smits as well as David Zayas. Fucking awesome at every step. ‘You’ve got a lot of potential in you. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.’ – Miguel Prado Friday. I am a little bit slow this morning due to being up late and partially blowing a gasket just before going to sleep. I tired of the scene and one person treating me like a fucking servant, and nearly blew up completely. Fortunately, I found the patience to think everything through. That was the end of the night, thankfully. This morning I am going to take it easy and do the minimum. Relaxation and operating at my own pace are the two biggest advantages of being here all the time and not working anymore. Today they will both operate at their respective limits. I need to take it easy for a while, and since there is no City drive tomorrow (and none yesterday), I’ll have most of the weekend to consider options and think about everything. Earlier I mentioned streamlining, and due to being a bit more tired than usual, I believe today and the weekend can be perfect for such an activity. On top of all this time and so many relaxing considerations, I am probably going to order lunch so I can have something really rewarding rather than the usual stuff. I really need to get my shit in order. Sometimes I feel too spread out to respond if the world goes sideways. I can’t have that. The usual stuff will not be a problem because it never is. Zoe is a new problem carried to me by a very old one. Yes, I do feel something for her because I can see her personality come through no matter what she may be saying or what expression may be all over her face in an image. Personality. Yes, she is very tall and slender yet still carries curves, and that information drives me fucking insane because the torment is not knowing ‘why’ or ‘how’ combined with an inability to speak with her about it, or at least try to describe my feelings. This is torture. She will never know me and that is perfectly fine. I will never know her, either, and such a fact is fucking horrible. I just have to sit on the feelings. As I said, emotions are pushing ahead of any desire. The biggest problem here is her personality because I can see very clearly the type of person she is, yet I can never connect with such a soul. She is very likely the exact type of connection of which I’ve been dreaming for four-plus years. Nope. Nothing is going to happen because I am too far gone these days and there is no way back. I am too fucking broken. My feelings for her are only going to deepen and then I’ll be even worse off than I am right now. She is so far beyond unique that I couldn’t get the point across in a thousand years. I need to learn of her height because I am still fascinated by someone so thin that stands pretty damned tall. The overall appearance is stirring beyond description. The only downside to such height is that more often than not, the woman’s face does not match at all, resulting in a very frightening overall look. I can’t describe that one, either, but I will say that Zoe is the diametric opposite of the scary shit. She is beautiful, sure, but there is an underlying feeling that stems from her silly mannerisms and exaggerated motions while speaking. I can already tell that she is a certain type of person, one to which I’ve been highly attracted since my time in the military. That is a long fucking period of time, I tell you; more than thirty-five years. That means I know precisely what I am saying here. Just trust it... Zoe matches something that has eluded me for decades. And no, Ashley was not an example of that type of personality. She was different from what I feel for Zoe. I would still feel as strongly even if Zoe wasn’t so fucking beautiful. Everything is inside. Like I said, this is an unexpected problem that has effectively thrown a wrench into the mechanical works of living. ‘Just a fly in the ointment, Hans; a monkey in the wrench.’ – John McClane, as directed by the great John Mc Tiernan. I already love Zoe because I am fucked in the head. She is different, believe me. There have been many others, from various amazing forms that caused my obsession to severely flare to faces that conveyed caring and kindness. The most recent (and I can't employ certain terms here for good reason) was that Asian girl at the produce market back in May. She was unlike anything I'd seen in quite a while. The truth is no matter what may come along from now until whenever, the emotional impact that Zoe has had upon me cannot be easily equaled and it supercedes any fucking gorgeous lines. 1113. I moved the car back to its home and straightened everything from last night. I also took care of the routine and popped lunch into the oven. Ordering something will be too expensive. From here forward, all I will be doing is drying the dishes and putting them away. Dinner will be leftovers. Simple. Friday is now in the past. Yep, as you may have suspected. I obsessed over Zoe again this morning and ended up in pain. Apparently, she moved to this area from another part of the nation and is going to be on the broadcast each morning. Splendid. Can I change the channel and watch a different morning news program? Probably not. I am far too weak to avoid staring at her and feeling my heart flutter all over the place. Seeing Zoe a little while ago as she sported an elegant dress and four-inch heels was the first occasion that showed off her height and incredible stance. Yes, the shoes boosted her up quite a bit, but standing next to the male anchor confirmed what I suspected for days, and then I learned that she does indeed stand five-eight with no shoes on. That fact, when combined with the fact that Zoe does not carry the requisite modern-day shit-infested shape that has pervaded society for more than a decade leaves me with deep-seated feelings inside. Her personality comes through quite a bit and I can see that the woman is PRECISELY the type for which I’ve been searching all these years. Damn it all, anyway. This just fucking figures. She is unbelievable and is driving me down with all haste. So, today is Saturday and I have a shitload of free time prior to any responsibilities. The main project today is to help with a small item later this afternoon. I need to modify a prosthetic (nothing serious) by cutting, smoothing and polishing a very small piece of metal. That is something with which I am fluent and have been for many years. Other than that – which, believe it or not, will be the most difficult part of my day – I only have the usual stuff to do. If I can get the second goddess of the universe out of my fucking head, the morning should move along just fine. The house is nice and quiet, I have my morning coffee, and the program is gracing the right-hand display like always. My work today is going to be interrupted often by images of Zoe’s gorgeous face and kind eyes. I can’t help it. I need what I need, and when someone comes along showing off evidence of precisely what has been missing from life, nothing I can do will be powerful enough to remove her, even for a little while. This is a constant desire, and she has become the focal point. Pieces of me are missing. Does she have them?
God help me
0912. My last cup of coffee is next to the keyboard. When it’s gone, I’ll hop to the routine and then get a few things ready for my afternoon project. That will not be a problem. Other plans are to finally cut two shelves for the shed, move a few more items to that space, and then consider options for reconfiguring one of the tall cabinets in the garage. Dinner is already mostly made, too. All I have to do is reheat the pasta sauce, flash the meat and then combine everything. It will simmer for a little while and be served over roasted potatoes. The meal should be pretty good since the sauce has been resting in the refrigerator for three days. Lots of flavor, I hope. Tomorrow’s business may enjoy a head start today because between the packing material from the scooter and the fireworks, I need to compact as much as possible to fit what I can into the trash. I believe two weeks will be enough to get rid of everything. Might be three. I’ll know tomorrow, but as for starting the process, I’ll probably do some of the work later today. In less than an hour, I’ll have a fatass cocktail to calm my inner turmoil and torment over Zoe and her pull upon my heart. I need her more than anything else in the world and must deal with the idea that nothing will ever come of my feelings. The housework will help for a little while. I was squished again the other night and began to flip the fuck out. A few moments later, I regained my composure and calmed enough to relax a little bit. Being squished does not seem to register to other people. The way I am treated after doing nothing more than helping every single fucking person who has requested it is reprehensible and I can’t fucking stand it anymore. At the same time, I continue to be nice to everyone. Why is that? Why am I continually treated like a fucking doormat? The other night was horrible, yet I don’t feel terrible about it because my recovery from nearly blowing my top was outstanding, and I am actually proud of myself. Attacking someone when I am hurt is not going to solve anything. What I need to do is sit back, bide my time, and plan a way to convey my feelings that requires calm, controlled and calculated phrasing. I am usually pretty damned good at it, too, but when anger takes over, my brain ends up partially derailed and articulating my feelings becomes an exercise in futility. The best way to proceed when that happens is to simply clam up and remain that way as long as possible. Being routed or squished hurts me much more now than it did just a few years ago. My first thought is always the same, too. Unfortunately, I cannot act on it. 1543. The usual stuff is finished, I worked on the model a bit more, and the laundry is nearly done. Not bad. I also compacted the big box so it can be tossed a little at a time. The cardboard will be gone, but all that other foam and shit may not fit. The aforementioned project is modifying something very important. I have it on good authority that it will arrive in roughly thirty minutes. Cutting and smoothing a small piece of metal will not take long at all, meaning I can get into some relaxation afterward. I might go back to the model for a little while. Right now I need to be off my feet for a little while. Once the item arrives, I’ll take care of the modification fairly quickly. Everything I’ve done today pushed Zoe out of my head for a while, thankfully. She’s right there, but I’ve been dealing with the feelings pretty well thus far. I have to drive to the City in the morning, meaning the television will be dark until later in the day. That’s good. The tough part of feeling this way is that most of the visions and crushes (or whatevers) I’ve experienced resulted from watching programs from decades in the past. Zoe is on the fucking news. She is ‘current’, if you will, and there is nothing I can do about it. Zoe is just up the highway about twenty minutes from me. What a fucking dream. Juliette was a dream, as were a few others. Zoe is unattainable, unavailable, and pretty much every other fucking conceivable ‘un’ in existence. God damn would I ever love her to hold me. Anyway, the time has come for a bit of cutting and polishing. 1653. Well, there were two items. Both are now finished and the entire shitaree took less than ten minutes. I just know my shit too well these days. Add up all those years of troubleshooting, engineering, mechanical and electronic experience and there is little I can’t figure out anymore. I guess that’s a plus. Now I have free time until dinner preparations with my extended family in the background, like every day. Zoe is still swirling through my head. She is something else, I tell you. Cocktail hour might arrive a touch earlier than usual. Just saying. I’ll try to avoid using the word ‘need’. Eh... Fuck it. I need her more than I could possibly describe. Ugh. NEED. There you go. The feeling goes far beyond a fucking drink. I am desperate like never before. There is little left for me to do this afternoon. The dinner thingy is merely simmering and cutting some potatoes. No big deal. Dinner is typically pretty late compared to many others, so my time is very flexible. Sunday morning is here, and I am pleased to have completed the drive without issues or any significant slowdowns. Sunday is always the quietest time to drive. I know in advance that arriving home again is not far away, and here I sit. Business will wait until later because I need time to relax and consider my options for the day as well as how to deal with the torture of knowing she is right over there and a billion miles away at the same time. I edited a couple more images of her that will be included in a later entry. Big surprise. Last night’s dinner became further simplified thanks to good planning, so my routine today will be pretty easy. I have the usual garbage business, too. Perhaps there will be ample time for relaxing in and around the chores. I hope so, anyway. Garbage is one of those items I need to consider because I’ve been feeling like streamlining everything again. That means shit has to go out the door; a process I usually enjoy. I’ll get into it soon. I have to remove as much of her from my mind as possible or my day will go all to hell very quickly. Everything I do every single day is to fill time. That is all. Distractions. Lunch that I can enjoy. Nothing more. Every single fucking move is to attempt to get that woman out of my brain enough to relax, even for a little while. Typing is a part of that process, too. Anyway, maybe I can organize a little more today in and around the garbage business. I still need to cut and mount the shelves, but any effort may help. Some direction might push her away for a little while. I can only hope because right now my heart is aching. I wish I hadn’t seen her that first day. Watching a different network would have helped, although I’ll have more choices once the live television subscription kicks in next month. If I go back to the morning news that I used to watch during football season, she will not appear at all. Wrong network. But... The big question... Will I be able to avoid seeing her? No idea. I am so fucking weak that a strong breeze could mean the end of me. Unbelievable. The road out of this place is once again illuminated. The woman is in my heart, and nothing even remotely close to such an occurrence would have happened if I could live like a grown-up. Or balanced. Or something. Eh... This is all so fucked up. My heart involved itself pretty damned quickly. Very bad. On the upside, at least I know how screwed I am. Some people go through this kind of shit and think doing so is normal. Heh. What a fucking maroon. 0851. I’ll begin to feel restless very soon. The coffee and my program can combine to keep me sitting here for quite some time, but today I can already feel the weather warming and I’d like to get a head start on things. And... I might love her already. Shit. Not good. I often say that the face is key. Well, hers seems to be absolutely ideal. I lost track again. I guess that’s why the last few entries have not had decent titles. As for this morning, I have the last of the coffee next to me. I’ll begin the routine when it is gone. 1502. Woe is me. I should not have tried to secure more images of her. Big fucking mistake. No, not because I am enamored with her. The reason is the set of images. They showed off much more than her beauty. I saw her all over the southwest... Vacations in wondrous places that I will probably not see again, and others I’ve never visited. I thought I was in the minority regarding my love for the desert. Nope. At least her appearance faded fairly quickly. Being reminded of where I am in life often supersedes everything else, and that includes my obsession as well as other desires. Moreover, I went to the garage to allow time for the dishes to dry and realized the weather is going to be much warmer than I had anticipated earlier this morning. Most of my Sunday business is finished – a good thing considering the temperature – but I believe the remainder of the day will go nowhere. ‘Woe’ almost matches ‘Zoe’. Interesting. I am a basket case. The men with the butterfly nets should be here soon.
Monday is here and Zoe has been on the television all morning. Crap. Her personality is so fucking cute. Yesterday I used my amazing software to secure more than 500 images of her. I’ll get into the ramifications of such a maneuver in a little while. I’ve been looking forward to having some time at the control center with coffee, and here it is. My program is over there on the right, the IDE to the left (like I work with it much these days), and I have plenty of time for whatever I wish to do. I’ll be visiting the market in an hour or so to pick up a few items. Anything there to be seen will not matter very much after all this Zoe crap. I’m still all goo-ga over her, meaning whatever else comes along shouldn’t affect me very much, if at all. Her pull upon my being is constant and very painful. I don’t think a pair of fucking pants is going to make any difference whatsoever. Zoe is either going to run the course or end up another Jamie (or Nora or Jolene). I really don’t want to adjust the portmanteau I created in order to add a fourth name. Making such an addition is another step toward the fucking basement. Splendid. Monday means the garbage is reset, dinners for the week are planned, and one of my favorite, calming activities begins anew. It also means that I need not drive to the City until Saturday at the earliest. That is very good. The morning is when I often do my best thinking, and five in a row looks very nice. Sometimes shit goes sideways, but since discovering Zoe and her amazing features, I’ve been focused enough to avoid any imperial entanglements. Something may come along and disrupt this process, though. I must remain vigilant. I need her very badly, and I need to know if my suspicions are correct. Unfortunately, I’ll have to take care of my usual daily work because knowing her and finding answers are both fucking impossible. Another sad situation; another missing piece. This day will progress just like all the others and I’ll hit the evening and relax. All in good time. On the inside, however, nothing changes. Time will continue to pass regardless of all of the pain. There is no stopping this progression of events. It is endless. Is Zoe the savior? No, not mine, but a savior nonetheless? Is Zoe... ‘Her’? 0922. I have a little bit of coffee left. When it’s gone, I’ll hit half the routine and then head to the market so I can return and enjoy the morning cocktail. None of my work today will take very long, either, so if I decide to go outside the norm I’ll have plenty of time. I cut the two shelves for the shed yesterday but did not mount them. The weather is overcast and cool right now. If it remains the same until later, I’ll go out there and finish that project. Keeping the shed as organized as possible is very important to me. The shelves have been on my mind for the last two weeks or more. Everything is here, too. All I have to do is measure, mount them and level both panels. These days, the tiniest project often appears enormous and I freeze for days on end when thinking about finishing. I used to be more capable and much more productive. The future is always labeled as ‘wide open’. I wish I could believe that. I may or may not get to the shelves today. Right now I just don’t fucking know what I will be capable of later. I see through the window that the fog is thinning just a bit to the east. Looks like the sun will be shining soon. I’ll have to cut this off and get to the store before it’s too bright out there. 1110. Cocktail hour is here, thankfully. The routine is out of the way, I ventured to the market and picked up the necessary items, and I have laundry running. Overall, this is a typical Monday. Now that my regular stuff is finished, I can consider lunch and other options. I have to say the quiet nature of this house can often be very therapeutic, and today is no different. Part of me is being driven toward relaxing at the dining table to work on the model car. The plan is to finish the current model and then grab another, the latter being the subject of many images a couple of years ago. It is unique because of one specific operation during construction that is dubbed ‘the marriage’. Think of a vehicle being built in two halves – front and rear, to be precise – and then ‘married’ by aligning more than fifteen components while joining those major sections. It is fucking amazing and the design work involved in developing such a model is mind-boggling. Well, to me, anyway. I will assemble the two sections and then document the marriage by taking images of each step. I did not do anything of the sort the last time I built that car. I still have yet to generate enough funds to acquire the Ferrari. Too bad. That one would be new and exciting, and another model for some fantastic digital imaging. Anyway, as for the rest of this day, the laundry will likely be the only actual work. I would like to relax and enjoy my afternoon rather than laboring in the shed or garage. This process is now so fucking far beyond ridiculous that I can’t even begin to believe it. Downward has been the trajectory for decades. Another day has disappeared, never to return. One more day; one less day. Dreams involving purity and connection are foggy, yet still present in my mind. I really don’t need to be reminded of where I am in life, especially considering all of the images of Zoe I found yesterday. My dreams of traveling and exploring the southwest came to mind once I began browsing. Yep... Her photos show off travel to all sorts of places. Very active, that girl. Contrarily, I hole up in this little house with various problems dictating my movements, thoughts and desires. I don’t go anywhere. I sit here and contemplate. I look at places I’ve been and places I want to visit, and then along comes this fucking goddess beyond comprehension with images of her traveling all over the place. Big, bright smiles; lots of fun, I would think. Zoe strikes me as a very positive person, quite the reverse of myself. Well, that doesn’t matter because she may as well not even be real. There is nothing for me related to her. Not a fucking thing. I no longer have the capacity to connect or be pleasant for very long before the shit returns and hits me in the head. I can’t be good for anyone, ever. I will still look at her beauty, though, because I have to see her big, beautiful eyes sometimes. The dreams from earlier this morning are going to continue to be a problem. Whenever the purity is involved (or even hinted at), my head has trouble letting go of the reference enough to focus upon other concerns. This is worse than dreaming about Zoe or anyone else because the indications at this point in time are all directing me to the same, sad conclusion. All I can do for the time being is sit here and hope everything fades enough for me to be productive or at least the slightest bit comfortable. She is on the morning news but I don’t pay much attention. I just listen to her voice while caring for the morning business. Looking at her is difficult due to the aforementioned personality suspicion and my desperate nature as it relates to the same. Maybe the overcast sky will continue aligning with my mood this morning. I can only hope. Almost time for the last cup of coffee. I ended up working on the model for a few hours yesterday in favor of doing anything else. The building process can be very calming and I fully embraced it, along with a nice cocktail and one of my programs on the big television. I was comfortable for a while, although there are rarely times when I can let everything go and fully relax. There can be no predicting the way I’ll feel later today. All I can do is wait and see what happens. 0919 and the coffee is here on the table. The last cup. That means about two and a half cups in total, which is the norm. I’ve been using the same ceramic mug for ten years, possibly longer. Others always seem to like the way it looks, but for me the attraction is the handle and the fit to my own hand. It is super comfortable, heavy or not. Moreover, the mug is quite literally one of a kind because it was made by hand courtesy of a pottery company that pops up from time to time at the big Christmas fair. No one else in the world has a mug quite the same. They have a signature method for creating the top of the handle that results in a very unique fit. I think about some of the items I use daily because a few are very old. One of my two travel mugs was a gift in ninety-six, believe it or not, and I still use it almost every weekend during the morning drive. It’s interesting how time can make an ordinary inanimate object very special. As an aside, I can also point out that I have a beer mug from a factory that was purchased in seventy-seven. Yep, a mug that is forty-seven years old this month. Maybe I’ll sit here all fucking day. Hmm. 1055. No more coffee. We have changed to whiskey for reasons of good form (and nerve-calming). The morning cocktail is one of very few aspects of living that helps me feel even a little bit ‘free’. Usually when I feel as I do right now, I’ll spend a little bit of money on something that can put a smile on my face. I don’t know if spending is a good idea right now, though, because I recently expanded my hand tool array and should probably take a long pause. Well, if some crazy windfall comes along, I shall continue to add to what has become another hobby – being prepared to work on virtually anything. Anyway, all tool fantasies aside, the routine is finished and I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. If I go with my feelings, nothing else will be accomplished until dinner preparations. The shelves are still waiting, there is plenty of organization to be done, and there is always cleaning to do. I just don’t know if I can rise out of the din enough to actually take care of any more shit today.
Jesus fucking hell is Julie ever adorable. What? What did you say? I’m pathetic? I already know that. Try something new for a change. And keep in mind that there are far worse beliefs inside my head than anything you can possibly throw in my direction. Fuck off and shut up. I need to worship her vulva for a calendar month. Sue me. I don’t care. She’s so cute that all sorts of things go through my head when she smiles. Julie is unbelievable to look at and carries one of my favorite names. Remember the ‘j’ thingy? Yep. I’d like to play with her breasts, too. Fucking shoot me. Wednesday is here whether or not I am ready for it. I have a longer morning due to an altered schedule. My routine will probably commence a little bit later than usual. If today works out anything like yesterday, the daily routine will be all I do for the entire day. I couldn’t do much of anything due to everything hitting me at once, most notably the images all over the southwest that I was perusing two days ago. Yes, it means that much to me. This morning I have another damned weight to carry in the form of a dream that I partially recall. I was in a good place only to awaken and find myself nowhere near the same. There are bits and pieces; travel, packing and such. I remember thinking that I had to leave some things behind and wait until a second visit to bring the rest. One of the items I had to leave was my truck of all things, and it was in pieces. I don’t understand that reference at all. There is not much else left to my memory, unfortunately. A lingering feeling that I was doing well – or being happy about something important – is keeping me from fully concentrating on what I’d like to say. I can’t recall, though. I wish I could. At least the other problem didn’t rear its head and leave me overly sad. I don’t need that shit. Honestly, I could go on forever without it and perhaps feel a little bit better than I do right now. Unfortunately, dreams will always come and go, and no aspect of such a fact is under anyone’s control. As for the purity, well... That is something I have to come to terms with or it will kill me. Any morning that I don’t wake up recalling the purity is a good thing. The rest of today is going to go well or not. I have no idea which, but I can try to make it the former. Coffee first. After? The usual for a while. After that? Not a fucking clue. As I said before, I will try. Sometimes when I am heading to bed at night, I’ll say goodnight to the cats and muse, ‘It’s all over for today, fellas. We’ll try again tomorrow’. Whatever that means – likely a deep-seated realization that I am no longer capable of very much – the sentiment is almost daily. Sitting here right now with the last cup of coffee, the day appears wide-open. The reality is I just don’t fucking know. The time is now 0932 and I am about as relaxed as possible considering everything inside my head. I captured Julie’s face during a short moment of a menacing expression toward her fictional husband. That girl can go from super cute to overly frightening in less than a second, and I kind of like it. The fact lends to her ability as an actor as well as the unique nature of her facial structure. You can see the image here. Just a thought. Anyway, I don’t know what the rest of the day will hold beyond the norm. I wish I could predict such things. We shall see forsooth. Time for housework. 1037. The fatass cocktail next to me is a clear indication that the morning work is finished. From here, who is to know? Will I work on the shelves? The window trim? The side splash? How about sitting on my ass in the dining room and continuing the car build? Further organization and lighting business in the garage, perhaps? Those are the lowest priorities, to be honest, and any answer at this point is meaningless. I don’t know where to go from here, but if I attempt to tackle any of the above, the steps will be short and quick. I just don’t fucking know if I can do much. The shit situations and their damage to my mental and emotional states continue to increase in weight and severity. I am seeing other aspects of life that did not seem to relate years ago but have recently become subject to those periods. I am referring to simple things like housework being interrupted by overwhelming emotions that debilitate me more often than I’d care to admit. Daily, actually. The comforts I strive to enjoy are necessary for providing comfort and some sort of separation from the reality that lives inside my head. Little things, such as one of my shows in the background or my many conversations with the cats often have the power to alleviate desperation and fear enough to allow me to be at peace for a time. Of course, I must disinclude those visions on the screen that bring everything back. Still, I know of the genesis of so many bad feelings and so much damage. Had I realized some of this thirteen years ago while holed up on the cave, fewer individuals in this town would have ever met me. I honestly did not think of shit situation number two back then, nor did I consider the other family member who exacerbated the entire affair with one little fucking comment. My focus was on situation number one due to how much disdain I felt for someone as she related thoughts and considerations along the same lines. That woman was the finest example of literal uncaring, at the same time providing warmth and loving comfort that I quickly began to distrust. Believe me, I know more than I care to at this point in time. The second situation did not truly slap me in the face until years later when I began to sit here and ask the most difficult questions imaginable. All this shit comes to mind often and leaves me unable to do ANYTHING aside from standing between the living and dining rooms while staring into empty space like some sort of mental patient. I hate it. That type of situation is the main reason why I occasionally blast the music of life in an angry manner. Julie is lying on the deck of a boat with her knees up and paired. I think you know where I go with that one. All those beautiful lines... Right there. If I could only see them. Did you notice the pattern here? All over the place. As for Julie in that position, well... I am feeling a strong need to demonstrate my desire to please her and leave that woman with zero doubt of the same. What I wouldn’t fucking give to slather her (gently). God damn is she ever adorable. All over the place. Basket case. Pathetic. Someone just taped a notice to my door. I have to check it out. Shit. No, not the notice. It’s a plan for a discount for having the lateral replaced. I had that done three years ago so the plan does not apply to this house. I opened the big garage door to take a look and ended up speaking with a neighbor from up the street for a few minutes. Well, this side of the street was covered by a gentleman while the opposite side – just beyond where my neighbor was standing with his dogs – was covered by a very tall, slender young woman whom I immediately needed to see closer and more clearly. Damn. I entertained the thought of calling her over here on the pretense that I have extensive knowledge of the lateral replacement process, but seconds later realized my stance and demeanor would have been a bit scary to her. I am worsening as time passes. She is gone, thankfully, and I am one small notch further down. She had beautiful, dark flowing hair, too. Christ only knows what I may have seen after the distance closed. Wow. What the fuck have I become? There is an upside, however, and that is the fact that I already know the results of any possible contact and work to avoid such an occurrence. I already know I’ll be fucked up more than prior to that type of thing. It’s bad for me, but very good for others, namely that beauty that strolled by across the street. There is also a downside. I am now less capable of doing more work around the house than I had been before seeing her. Whatever. I know what I am (for the most part). I will never know if she was something special, much like many others. I will never fucking know and will probably die lacking such knowledge. I need it, but my needs don't matter. I need to run my tongue all up and down Julie’s delicate labia. Shut up. But... Can you imagine how delicious it may be? How beautiful? HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Again... Shut up. I would worship her. At some point I need to move into the kitchen and make a marinade for some kabobs that I’ll be grilling for dinner. The recipe calls for four hours. I still have some time. Why did I have to see that girl on the sidewalk? WHY??? I have to get away from the control system for a little while. Shit. Another day has disappeared into the past. I am one day older. Interesting? No... Because people cannot help but to conceptualize the universe and their places within it from the standpoint of their own consciousness. There is pretty much no way around that one. I suppose a person could have an out-of-body experience and define that as being outside their own mind, although few people are going to believe such a story. Again... A single consciousness. Yesterday is gone for good. For myself, the loss represents different stages and levels of importance regarding the hours I spent here at home. I see the time as having disappeared for the most part, some of the morning spent in the shed, yet still lots of waste and loss. Yes, I put up the shelves and reorganized that space a little bit so everything is more accessible. The whole project took less than an hour and I am pleased with the results. As for the remainder of time? Lost. I have no idea what will happen today. This point in the day – sitting here gathering thoughts, sipping coffee and partially paying attention to the program that is running – often seems like the most rewarding as opposed to the early afternoon when I typically lose my way completely and have to force something. Unfortunately, this point in the day does not last very long. This paragraph is very haphazard. Ugh. I lose my way mentally almost as often as I do emotionally. Not good. Anyway, the morning is quiet and pleasant and I have a bit of coffee left. I’ll do what I can. As usual, this is going nowhere. The same shit every day... Nowhere. 45 days. 3271 days. How many are left?"
Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
legal
about
archive
home
