The Savior Intermission Mature content No. 413 Published May 29th, 2024 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Between the aspects of life that have disappeared and how different everything in the world is now compared to three-plus decades ago, this type of mood during a typical mid-afternoon is not surprising at all. I am beyond stuck today. At least all of the normal daily stuff is out of the way. I guess that’s better than the opposite. My brain has been going back in time over and over, the result typically being sadness and anger due to everything that is gone. Early this morning I was again reminded of the purity and its dramatic effects upon my psyche, mostly due to my suspicion that it is fading, possibly becoming permanent sooner than I could have predicted years ago. To say that I do not like the idea is a gross understatement. I must also point out that going back in time not only creates a deep sense of loss, but it also relates to the purity. I’ve been reminiscing while watching the second series and remembering the way the world was back then is very fucking depressing. These late days know little happiness, if any at all. Being reminded of the purity and how it often dominates my thoughts is as depressing as recalling the time when I first watched some of those episodes... The glowing years continue to increase in importance and have collectively become the single most rewarding period of my life, hands down. Not everything was glowing, yet compared to the present, the problems that arose back then now appear minuscule in comparison to the condition of my head and heart. ‘Deeper I go, deeper down. Didn’t think it could get any blacker.’ Yep. His words are more connected to me now than years ago when I first heard them. Each day finds me realizing less and less reason to continue doing whatever the fuck it is I’ve been doing for the last four years. Pathetic, but not my fault. And just because I have all but given up does not mean I am any weaker or less capable than prior to the loss of everything. I can still accomplish anything to which I put my mind. The problem is those two shit situations combined with the recent recollection of a third party and her very harmful remark (while smiling, I might add). Very little of what I’ve been going through is my fucking fault. Losing the purity and being reminded of what it once represented is a byproduct of the way I think. Along such a line, the purity is not only one of the largest points of contention in existence, but also something directly related to both shit situations. BOTH. I may be inadequate to the task of rising above this situation. I shall go through the motions and see how I feel coming out the other side. All my stuff is finished. I have not approached the mural today because I ended up burnt out yesterday and need to think about how I should proceed. Tuesday is here regardless of how painful the passage of time has become. Sandra and her big, round breasts are gracing the screen from time to time, effectively reducing my mental abilities to the minimum. Marvelous. Anyway, aside from all saving throws and the thrall of beauty, my day has progressed enough to allow for a cocktail break and some thinking, Sandra’s amazing chest notwithstanding. My routine is out of the way and I have a bit of a plan for the early afternoon. At some point I need to pick up a few things from the cleaners and then grab a set of paintbrushes from the hardware store on the return trip. No big deal. Ah... One of my namesakes is about to be uttered within the show. NIce. The name was an alias way back during the cave period, and used while I was still active in a few chat rooms. The Internet handle was unique, for sure, and often caused others to ask of the genesis. I may adopt a domain name or two that represent my feelings for that humorous moniker. On other fronts, I’ve not been motivated enough to continue the mural because the details are painstakingly difficult and very slow to progress. I’ll get to it sooner or later. Maybe I’ll feel motivated after lunch. I need 'her' to 'save' me. She is my savior. Well, she could be. Oh, boy. I don’t need some of the pressure that goes along with always being as people have expected. I really don’t need my fucking neighbor’s expectations all rolled up and launched at me like a missile, nor do I want to answer any more God damned questions about any fucking subject on earth. I’m fucking sick of it. Ignoring certain individuals might prove the only way to proceed. Hopefully, they will get the point. I’ve spent years rolling around this town and repairing so much shit that I’ve lost count. No more of this, damn it. No more. Wednesday. Later than usual. The daily routine is finished and laundry is running. I went to the big store this morning and secured a new kitchen faucet because the old one has been irritating the hell out of me every time I need to spray the sink. I already installed the new unit and it’s working very well. As for the shopping, my trip came and went without problems. Cocktail hour arrived while I installed the faucet, as well, meaning I can relax for a while and consider options for the rest of the day. I will probably head to the garage after lunch and do more painting and layout on the mural. As of yesterday, the upper sections are finished. I’d like to go over the black lines with a fine brush so they blend in with the rest of the image. At that point, I’ll have to begin the painstaking process of outlining the lower section. Last night may have been the last time the car can park inside the garage until after the shed is installed. I need the space for everything that has been piling, plus the furniture will be arriving sometime Friday afternoon and it is too large to keep out of the way so the car can fit without restriction. Very bad. I have all of Thursday to myself – only a possible, short trip to the smaller market may take place – and sitting here this morning is already a chore. A trial, really. The most difficult aspect of living lately has begun to overshadow everything else. The other crap I’ve been working on is losing importance, and I am speaking of feelings that came up just a few hours ago. Yes, the fucking subconscious again... It hit me with a dream involving a very kind person – one of whom I asked a question critical to my ability to live – who tried to help a little bit until I realized the entire scene was a very bad idea and left me in a horrible light. In the beginning it was amazement when I first asked her to help with an opinion, but afterward I knew something was either already wrong or would be heading in a downward direction very soon. She did help, though. The woman was very kind to me. Her assurance that my condition was ‘good’ helped to lift me for a few seconds until I realized that none of it mattered in the grand scheme of life. Upon awakening, my head descended further than in recent memory. It is still in the black at this very moment. I have my coffee and one of my favorite programs running, all the time in the world to do whatever seems best today, an item arriving in the mail later that will probably put a smile on my face for a little while, yet even with all those positives, I know none of it really makes any difference in my life. Reality will intrude and leave me empty, lost and very sad regardless of the little things that historically boosted me on a given day. This situation hurts more than anything else in the world and I don’t know how to deal with it so I can function like a real grown-up type of person. I don’t know if ‘things’ should be different right now or not. Maybe this condition was predetermined long ago. There is simply no way to be certain of any of it. I have to go through the motions, however, and in doing so perhaps I can find a measure of distraction from all this sadness. I wish the world was different. Just a little bit, too. Nothing dramatic. The more upset I become lately, the more chance that I’ll spend some money on something that can lift me for a little while. I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now, though. I don’t know much of anything, really. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. The woman in the dream with whom I spoke was unlike the typical faces I’ve seen in the past. Quite different, honestly, and her appearance may have been influenced by a couple of movies I’ve watched in recent days. The process could be something else, though, and I’ll probably never know the truth, nor will I know who she was. My questions have remained unanswered for far too long to allow me to trust a fucking thing in this backward world, people included. No answers, as I’ve mused for nearly two decades. The shit below in a different color is from zero-nine and was generated when I began to see that my life was going to go nowhere for the duration. Not real ‘She is above Carmen, Jennifer, the other Jennifer, and the one who shall remain unnamed in these writings. She is, quite literally, above all. I have not seen her face on the television or elsewhere for several weeks and now I catch a glimpse in the finest of clarity. God damn, she is beautiful. Her eyes just go on forever and I long to swim in their gaze. Two limpid pools of tootsie roll brown surrounded by fluttering eyelids and tanned skin the likes of which I cannot understand. She confuses my senses enough to circumvent the procedures of life. All other challenges are simplified and any puzzle is minimized when placed against her dynamic and powerful pull on my reasoning. I can no longer function properly once her vision is glanced. She is incredible and I am losing control. Fuck. Why must I see her when my place in the world is defensive? Can I not get through a troublesome day and evening without the sight of her derailing my thought process? Does this mean I have yet another reason to look into my grave? Will that help me forget my place in the world and the realization that she is on a level I will never understand? My present state of mind cannot handle another draw in the near future. Not at all. I just cannot fucking work with anything else right now. My weekend has been trying in the most dramatic sense and a vision of her is counter productive to the nth degree. Oh god, what a fucking sight. After a decent gathering in honor of the big game and associated festivities, I am spent. Full of rum yet again and full of thoughts indecent I will remain for the night. Thoughts in the gutter, in the grave, into the future, and into my own past. I am reflective and regretful. This is a bad time. Such a bad period. I am annoying, defending of my suicidal nature, vocal of my dislikes, and so very negative and full of shame. I am shameful in the extreme. I cannot sit and think of how I must look to anyone outside my own drowned brain. My distilled and pickled thoughts are the worst right now. Fear is tremendous and my worry is in the red. Consideration of my end is appealing and I am constantly wishing for the grave. The grave represents the exit from feeling. Feeling equals misery.’ Was the woman in the dream my savior? Like the images, she is not real. Splendid. I’ve been functioning every day for the sole purpose of helping other people for so long that I don’t even know how to live any other way. That’s the reason I effectively shut down one neighbor last week. I’m tired of it. No one understands my behavior lately because I will not fucking communicate clearly exactly what has been going through my head. First, I need not burden others with this shit, and second, the type of understanding and help I need just is not going to come along. The more time that passes, the worse I become, and the less chance of understanding there can be. Less and less, day by day. I am still helping certain individuals, too, and mostly to continue keeping the little parts of my life in place that I can still (somewhat) enjoy. Not everything, mind you, but some. The dream this morning has once again derailed the fucking title, too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get around to such a topic. The arrival of my item in the mail later will provide temporary distraction, just as the shed in less than two weeks. The mural work has the ability to send me into the forest for a little while until everything comes back and delivers me all tidy and neat into a pit of blackness. The tertiary processes that boost me for a little while always come to an end and leave me worse off than before. Matter of time. I wish I could again speak to that woman from the dream this morning. Maybe she could have helped. The question I posed to her was so deeply personal and potentially damaging that I still can’t believe I asked at all. Needs have outnumbered moments of comfort. The dream is nothing more than a reminder that my life has been over for quite some time and I am floating along toward the grave; a railroad track with no turns. At some point I have to do my housework. Done. Cocktail time, mostly due to the morning being a complete disaster. The item for which I had been waiting has arrived and exceeds my expectations. Hopefully, I can ride this wave for a long while. Anything that can lift me from the blackened morning is welcomed. And, um... Alcohol, too. The love of my life is on the right-hand display again, and such a statement is indicative of just how far out of balance I have become. Did I already point that out? Many times. I keep saying the same things over and over and over. This is what I’ve become due to the routing, squishing and disregarding which has continued for more than thirty years. No one takes me seriously anymore. Maybe they never did. I wish I knew why. I don’t know which would be better, a high-priced call girl or an expensive therapist. Both rolled into one may be the best option. Does she exist? My day will proceed very slowly from now until dinner time – I can’t seem to get the idea of ‘her’ out of my brain for very long – because I just don’t care about going above and beyond the norm. I’m going to work on the mural in a little while with the music of life playing quietly in the background. As for the garage, well... Do not approach. If people only realized how I REALLY think these days. Holy shit. Believe me... You don’t want to know. Trust the words. I have little reason to falsify myself anymore. There are thoughts and dreams inside my head that MUST remain as such or people will take issue with the way I see everything. Very bad. At least I am already accustomed to keeping everything bottled inside (a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession). The way I view the world and other people has changed dramatically since the first damaging dream. Moreover, I saw little reason to try censoring my thoughts regarding beauty, meaning even more work is involved in holding my tongue during certain very specific situations. The mural has nothing to do with beauty. It is a process that I am hoping leads to some help. That is that. I’ll work a bit more if the mood strikes. Friday morning... Coffee. I am awaiting the arrival of my furniture from the valley. It should be here after eleven or so, perhaps later. I don’t have much to do as far as the routine is concerned because dinner was very simple and I took care of the entire floor yesterday. I will probably move a few items around in the spare bedroom in order to rework that section of flooring for later use. I need to try extracting yesterday’s mood and loss from my brain before I do bad things today. The painting will probably help, so once I get away from this crap, I’ll care for the housework and then head in other directions. Very exciting. There is Jamie again, not long before her nineteenth birthday. Even back then her eyes drew me like a gun. Little did I know that years later I’d fall head over heels for that girl. Unbelievable, but then again not really. Basket case. The unreal always smashes the shit out of reality. Blame the past. I received confirmation of the furniture pickup; less than an hour from now. I would imagine the movers will be here roughly two hours after that. I’ll have to take care of the routine and then head out there to move some things out of the way. The garage and spare bedroom will be a little out of order for the next week and a half until the shed is installed, but I don’t mind. The end result will be a tremendous improvement all the way around. I can wait; I’ve been waiting years for this type of installation. I am hoping the work will distract me from all the other shit that took hold of me yesterday prior to painting. I spent four hours on some detailed work and the image looks wonderful. Painting the lines is very tedious. Anyway, I have plenty to keep me busy today. I need to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s massive pitfall. A face; a slight smile; caring beyond comprehension. I don’t understand at all and continue to wrestle with such imagery. It makes me very sad. Jamie’s big tootsie-roll eyes are going to remain inside me today. Her windows know no equal, and that includes the rest of Jolaimora. Ugh. Ugh... Again. Everything is finished, the furniture is in the garage, I modified the spare bedroom in order to clean the floor prior to moving more stuff, and now I am tired. ‘It wasn’t my fault! How many FUCKING times do I have to say it?!’ – God bless the most beautiful woman ever to exist, even when her adorable character’s behavior and decisions were questionable. Just a thought. Still no title reference whatsoever. Perhaps this is simply the way of things. Doesn’t matter. The title has been changed yet again. I am searching for my savior. Ugh. Not real Saturday is going to be very mellow, I believe. I am still pretty tired from yesterday’s business and a little impromptu gathering in the garage. My mural project was the main topic, so I remained for a while and discussed the factors involved in having such a controversial symbol that large on display. The drive earlier this morning was quite smooth and sans incident. Being home with very little to do today is very nice (so far). My head has not gone sideways as of yet. The dream from the other morning has faded some, but I can still see her speaking to me, reacting and answering my question. Her eyes informed me of everything I needed to know. The purity may well be the worst aspect of life right now. Distractions are going to increase in importance, likely beyond any realistic ideas. Very soon I will not know what to do. Part of this feeling is due to something I saw yesterday that would have been better left unseen. I don’t need any more reminders of everything that is missing from this fucking life, least of all something like THAT right before my desperate, deviant eyes. Between the dream and the sights, I am going to lose my shit pretty soon. I’ll flip the fuck out. The way I live my life is very unhealthy and I know full well of such a fact. Something has to happen, but what? A darkened doorstep? A limousine carrying three women and a briefcase? Shit, that last one dates back so far that I can’t even remember. Thirty-five years? Jesus. Will something happen? Will I be able to connect with that one I keep seeing that drives me completely insane? No fucking way. She is not impossible per se, but the level of improbability is off the fucking scale. I may as well not even think about her in that way. Shit. Fuck. Wonderful. Nothing good is on my horizon. My attraction to that girl is a byproduct of so many fucking problematic factors that I don’t even know where to start. Shit on it. Later. The routine is finished and I have a cocktail next to me. Typical for this point in the day. ‘Again with the purity?’ ‘Yeah! Again with the purity!’ Early mornings are becoming something I fear when I go to bed at night. I recall dreams, but nothing specific. I was using a can opener or possibly working with someone else to construct a project with cans. I don’t fully recall because the purity reared its head and left me sad once again. One day soon, that topic will take over my consciousness and leave me for dead. I can’t do anything about this because the understanding is probably not ‘out there’ somewhere waiting for me. Or at least... Maybe theI need is there to ‘react’ to me. I need ‘her’. I keep seeing and feeling and wallowing; every day is the same at some point, be it sadness and reckless behavior during the mid-morning or anger in the afternoon. Every single fucking day turns to shit at one point or another, and now the purity is beginning to drive everything else into the fucking ground. There have been too many occasions when I learned that FINALLY everything was going to be ok, that I’d found the understanding, only to be awakened to the realization that a day has passed and I am worse than the previous occasion of the same. This morning feels just like that... Sad and knowing there is nothing left for me. I am tired of knowing all this shit and tired of constantly trying to find anything with the power to lift me for a little while. There is probably no end to such a situation, hence the creation of a construct that no one understands but me. I won’t spell it out, either. Today is Sunday and I have lots of business to attend; afterward there will be time to advance the project and maybe consider getting my camera equipment set up for Tuesday morning. I am looking more forward to arriving home after the drive than I am to going in the first place. Feeling that I need to get the hell out of here is a daily occurrence, but this little trip ain’t gonna cut the fucking mustard. When I say I want to go somewhere, I mean a decent road trip for fuck’s sake. Well, aside from those times when I acquire something small that later comes in the mail, I am just not going to get what I need (or want). In any case, ceasing my concern and heartache over the purity will require otherworldly power or some kind of miracle. Not likely. I have the whole day to myself and that will have to be good enough for now. This shit will fade soon and time will roll right over me like it always does. I could speak to my savior about the purity, but no one else. That means the likelihood of speaking is so remote that there is little point in considering such a wondrous and loving situation. Unbelievable. I was told recently that I’ve been saying the same things using different words at times. Didn’t I fucking point that out some years ago? Yes, I did. This is all I have... The machine and the keyboard combined are my therapist, so if I sound as if I’m going in circles, read more. I’ve said that many times, too. Repeating myself is a byproduct of having written more than 177,000 lines of code in less than four years. Try it yourself and see how your own process develops. I’ve railroaded information aplenty and will continue to do so until my death. I will also say that whenever I can’t make progress on my mental and emotional condition, I resort to describing my days or something special that crossed my vision because the process is nearly the most comforting aspect of my life that I have left. There you go. Write it down, roll up the paper, set it afire and then shove it in your ass. Criticizing my work here is akin to criticizing empty fucking space. ‘Arguing detectives (are) like making giant lamb stew... Everything go to pot.’ [sic] I might be completely finished communicating with other people save for a precious few that I must deal with in person. I just might be done with it. I am alone in two ways, and one of them is really nice. When I need to push back, I push hard. If the same thing occurs a second time, that’s the end of everything. Trust me. I don’t need any flap about this content. Shut the fuck up, everyone. The last of the coffee is next to me and Saundra’s gorgeous eyes are on the right-hand display, all dark and enticing. God bless that woman’s beauty. From there? Over to the Bing where Sean and Chris are being stupid fucking idiots for the first time. Those guys had plenty of ambition, but their underlying impatience and recklessness came to haunt them in the worst way. Anyway, the lack of a morning drive has left me with more free time today. I’ll be into the routine earlier than usual. There is Saundra again, this time in a sweater that frames her big, beautiful breasts in a way not often seen in the real world. Don’t even get me started with the other one... On the Vegas program. Jesus, she was amazing. Ugh. Those two women aren’t real, don’t matter, and exist only in the past and in my brain. Splendid. What I really need in this life are more reminders that I am losing grip on reality. Later. The routine is finished. I still have some organization to do, a bit of floor cleaning in the spare bedroom, and the garbage business. I’ll get around to everything after a short break with my fatass cocktail. Each time I head to the garage for anything, I add a few lines to the mural so I can nickel and dime the larger, more complex portions of the illustration. After lunch will probably be the best time for me to add ink outlines and paint to some of the overall image. Dinner will be very simple, meaning my time is open for as long as I’d like to spend out there on that huge mural. And I did just that... Some of the more detailed work is complete, mostly on the lower section. I still have lots to do. Monday is here, and now that the morning drive is out of the way – something which is a rarity for the first business day of the week – I have the entire day for whatever seems best. Right now, coffee time is still first on the list, along with a bit of research into driving halfway across the state tomorrow. Thursday morning, 0908, and I just took my first sip of coffee. Unbelievable. I forgot to pick up cream yesterday, figured I’d just get coffee up the street for the drive this morning, and then realized I had zero cash (that’s all they accept). So, I took off for the City with no coffee, watched one hell of a gorgeous Asian woman in super cute pants walk away from my car while parked, ended up in some ugly traffic thanks to a lane closure DURING THE MORNING COMMUTE TIME (who decided that?), and then returned to town and stopped at the market for some items. Pants... Right out of the gate. I couldn’t even articulate my sweatshirt because my brain immediately glued itself to her lines upon exiting the car. What a fucking beauty. After being out of town for a day and a half and having walked all over the place without any problems, I get slammed in the face closer to home. Orange pants. Lines of life. Could that beautiful woman have been my savior? Now there is nothing left but pain inside. Shopping. Home. Thank the maker. The museum visit and a bar afterward were the highlights of the trip. Amazing stuff followed by lots of relaxation. Three stops on the return drive meant that I did not fatigue much, although one stop was a big produce market on the highway and that place held one of the most wondrous sights I’ve seen in years. Again... She was Asian, most likely Chinese. Very young, too. I averted my eyes fairly quickly so as to avoid meeting her gaze in that small store. The damage was acute and still rings in my head nearly an entire day later. She had two features which tend to be extremely rare on an Asian woman, and both stood out to my distorted sense of vision and even more distorted way of thinking. By the time I exited the produce market, I had already gone around the world with that girl, all in my fucking head. I still can’t believe the sheer level of effort it took for me to avoid staring at her fucking chest and the way the sundress fit her slender frame. Jesus. There is something very wrong in the world. Very fucking wrong. I don’t need this shit anymore. The purity came to mind very early this morning, and when combined with much of what I have been seeing since yesterday – most notably the rare, exotic stunner at the store – my resulting mindset is pretty solidly suicidal, with bits and pieces awaiting the return of some normalcy after the trip. The coffee is helping with said normalcy, along with my program running on the right-hand display. Soon I’ll get into some laundry work and move some things around in the garage to further prepare for the shed’s arrival on Monday. Every single fucking step today is going to be followed by a pair of amazing breasts, long black hair, and a very thin sundress that I desperately needed to swallow. That was a very bad one, and not just due to my obsession. The damaging dreams came into play for reasons I can’t spell out here, and the combination of all that shit – with the aforementioned purity – is really taking its toll on me today. The housework had better hold me up for a while. I’ve been wondering how much longer I can sit here and speak about my feelings before some sort of change is forced upon me. Along with everything else today, I’ll try to consider the value of this shit. As an aside, I pulled the content from the production environment the other day with no plans to reverse the decision. That is one more thing on the plate for this day. The girl from yesterday filled me with more desire than anything in recent memory. The thoughts became savage and very difficult to reconcile. My words may become much more pointed and detailed, hence the decision to work offline only. Was the amazing Asian girl my savior? Was she real? Do my feelings fucking matter anymore? Not real Ok, the laundry has begun. I can’t seem to get the purity out of my mind this morning, and the biggest part of the problem is that I already know it’s an emotional situation and nothing else. After all these years, I should not be surprised at all. I will say in no uncertain terms that if the purity goes away, I’ll be dead very soon after such a realization. There will be nothing else powerful enough to hold me up anymore. Days like today, after being away from home for some time, should actually feel really good because this is the only place I can find comfort lately. The hotel was very luxurious and quiet, yet nothing is the same as being in my own space without concern for dealing with many other people. Any nice hotels notwithstanding, the fact is that each day which passes leaves me less and less able to truly be comfortable. The purity may end up the one factor that dictates the rest of my life. That is a very sad statement, but again, I am the product of time and circumstances, as I am sure many others are as well. Very sad, indeed. I will make my way through the rest of the morning and see how I feel later. Friday morning, post drive, and I am sitting here a full hour earlier than yesterday. Thank the maker. The girl is still bouncing her way through my brain, the purity is still the prime issue in my heart, and I am feeling quite angry over being made to feel such pain this late in life. Not everything is positive. The mural has more detail, outlining and paint. I finished all three loads of laundry yesterday and organized everything after being away. The problem continues to be the fact that no matter what I accomplish on a given day, the heartbreaking feelings come to me unimpeded and often. This is the true beginning of the end. I can’t handle things like some months ago. Even the tiniest detail will set me off and push further; harder than in the past. The Asian girl, for example, has produced so much turmoil inside me that I can barely go in any direction for five fucking minutes without picturing her shape. There was a very powerful need for me to see all of her. So powerful, in fact, that due to the impossibility of such a situation, I am seeing that the only way to alleviate the feelings is to die. Nothing else will push her out of my brain, and more importantly, nothing has the ability to satiate so much desire. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. I have this entire day to myself and the shed is arriving early next week, and all the while the positives of being here in control of my environment are shrinking. The points I made are huge positives in life. I don’t have to work anymore. That is a living situation for which I dreamed for decades, mostly during the last few years of working as a plumber. Here I sit after four years of being home and the feeling is the same – freedom from commuting and complying. But? My heart is fucking smashed to bits and hurts more right now than years ago. The advantage of finally living near the ocean and in a cooler climate than the previous decades is huge, but again... Heartbroken. I’ve been relegated; routed; squished, and none of it can be removed. These situations still occur from time to time, effectively reinforcing the idea that the past shaped all I can ever be; limits have been imposed and there is nothing I can do about them. Wait... What? Speak to someone? Who? A professional? Nope. I’ve already railroaded several and will do it again. Someone else, you say? Who? A friend? I only have acquaintances. The person in this house? Nope. Again... I can’t view anyone in terms of help because those I know are all a part of the problem. No one fucking listens or takes me seriously, anyway, so tell me the fucking point of even beginning such a process. Go for it. And then tell me that I am wrong to feel so much desire for that girl in the produce market. Try me. Today will move along like all the others, I guess. I need to take care of little things in preparation for the shed and other matters. Anything I can do that will ease the weight of my emotional condition will be helpful, and I plan to embrace every fucking second of it. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll probably head in some other direction for a little while and see how I feel. I still see her smiling while perusing the market. She was an enigma, and believe me when I say that I know precisely of what I speak after decades of scrutinizing beauty from every conceivable standpoint, angle, and opportunity to ‘see’ what I’ve needed. She was an enigma, for sure. Very, very rare due to a couple of points that I will refrain from stating here for reasons of good form. She was a person above all other concerns, and I loathe to be disrespectful. Oh, the odds of this being published in the future AND her reading it AND knowing she is the topic are beyond astronomical. Regardless, I can’t say anything harsh or add too many details. Just trust me... The girl was unique and I know enough in this life to be completely certain of such a fact. When I think of her, I believe there is more ‘need’ than ‘want’ at this point in time. ‘Need’ is beyond overwhelming these days. You don’t want to know the full extent of that word as related to this endless, pathetic search. I was there and will probably never be there again. All rails, roads and paths in life lead to the cemetery. I really need to be there, damn it. I also need to go back in time and speak to a few individuals in the language of violence. Neither is possible and here I sit for the thousandth time with zero options. This morning’s cocktail will be welcomed like a lover. Later. I am miserable. I cannot get the information, pain or the sight from the other day out of my head for more than a few seconds. I took care of the daily routine and performed some organization; she followed along at every step and I can’t think very well as a result. This is fucked up to the nth degree. The cocktail had better do its job of calming my head for a little while or something bad is going to happen. She may have been Japanese but I can’t be certain. I need so much fucking help that the grave is looking more and more like the only way out of this painful condition. I am hoping that my words do not become more pointed. I need to see her but don’t want to see anything ever again. Desperation is dangerous, but not for me. The danger is to others. Now that the morning work is finished, I’ll have to point myself in some fucking direction in order to remain somewhere closer to ‘balanced’. That may not exist anymore. Shit... I don’t know what the hell I am saying anymore. I’ve lost the damned title three times and have no idea where it went, hence all these stupid intermissions. I am in so much emotional pain that I can barely function right now. Maybe I should work on the mural and shut out the entire universe for a while. I’ll be just the same (if not worse), but at least I can push some feelings away for a little while. If I’m going to be miserable, I may as well try to create gaps in the misery. Otherwise, why continue living? What am I waiting for? My own enigma? Understanding? Answers? Eh... I have some of them already. The others are most unlikely. No enigma for me, only more of the same. Saturday coffee and streaming media are here with me. I have to go across town during the mid–afternoon for a birthday dinner, but other than that, the time is all mine like yesterday. Friday morning was very difficult and heart-wrenching and I am hoping the same type of situation does not have a chance to develop today. If I can get through seeing the goddess of the universe for a little while, there is hope that the day won’t head downhill anytime soon. Eh... Never mind. The morning is shit, my attitude toward everything is worsening, and I still have to get through the rest of the morning. One might believe that the advantages to this current living situation could outweigh the bad shit, but that is just not true much of the time. Emotional damage can’t be rectified by many aspects of daily life. Bandages always come off. I was trying to secure one this morning but to no avail. My situation is not improving. I suppose I’ll try to embrace my little devices for a while and see if they can help. God damn do I ever love that girl. She is at the top of a very long list of reasons I can no longer deal with reality. Big fucking surprise there, huh? Fuck you. The one who can save me is out there. She exists; I’ve seen the clues and examples of such caring and understanding. I have fucking seen it in spades, yet no matter where I look, she is not there. Or... Is she? There is no way to be certain because a connection is so improbable after all this time. I’ve seen eyes, too. Lots of them. I cannot know what is behind them for the same reason: So much time has passed since I was ‘there’ that I’ve become hypersensitized and more desperate than ever. That means any possibilities would most likely be destroyed through my behavior or words. That is not to say she does not exist, however. As I said, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen plenty and I fucking KNOW a savior is out there, somewhere. The evidence of such a person has been mounting for more years than I can recall right now. I’ve seen plenty, trust me. The last of the coffee is next to me and Jamie’s big doe eyes are on the screen. Shit. Whatever. At least I’m already accustomed to seeing that goddess over and over and I know when the key moments are going to come along within the narrative. Her eyes become so sweet that I need to run outside and repeatedly bash my head on the concrete until I lose consciousness. Not good. If ever I felt that I am weak, the realization comes along when I see Jamie. I know it’s bad for me but I can’t fucking help it anymore. What do I have in reality that can help? Booze? Painting? Typing? The answer is nothing. At some point I’ll take care of business this morning and then wrap the birthday presents. The time to leave is five hours away and I am already looking forward to returning home. Of all the places in the world, this house is the only place where I feel even remotely safe; somewhat protected (against what, exactly?). Dinner will come and go, I will arrive back home shortly thereafter, and then relax and consider the next couple of days. I received confirmation that the shed will be installed in two days. Why they are doing the work on a national holiday is beyond me, but whatever. I’ll take it. Tomorrow I need to move some things around in the backyard to prepare for their arrival, which I understand has been predicted for between eight and eleven in the morning. I will probably work toward that end today, as well. I need to find a way of extricating that fucking Asian enigma from my tired brain, too. Damn. I’ve not seen her like before, to be honest, and the memory is driving me up the wall. There was something about her face that informed me of certain personality aspects – of course, I could be dead wrong, yet the suspicion remains – which have been parts of my savior dream for a very long period of time. Her facial expressions and mannerisms told me quite a bit. The result of seeing all that shit is nothing more than pain and confusion. The mural, organization and shed had better hold me the fuck up or something bad is going to take place. Very bad, to be sure. I wish I could gush regarding what struck me about that fucking girl, but it’s best I leave the subject alone. No one will like it and the process will most likely push me further down. Not real The coffee is gone and half the routine is out of the way. I guess I’ll get to the other half soon, along with my little buddy, the typical morning cocktail. I made both salads yesterday, so there is very little I need to do prior to leaving this afternoon. Four hours. As I said before, I am already looking forward to returning home after dinner. I need to be here among my pathetic devices. Dinner was fine. Sunday is here. The drive was smooth and uneventful. I have the entire day for whatever is best. The shed arrives tomorrow morning (they gave me a window of time), so I’ll have to prepare the area and move a few things around today. I was up a little bit later than I should have but still drove this morning, and earlier than the norm. I’ll have to keep myself organized today because of the garbage work and incoming workers tomorrow morning. There was a very special sight that I am trying to reconcile right now. A scent, too. I can’t seem to get her out of my head because the situation caught me off-guard and left me almost bereft of words. The bra strap came to mind for the thousandth time and had me at sixes and sevens for quite some time. My feelings are on the edge of being controllable entirely too often. I don’t need any more reminders of emptiness and loss. Someone has to come along at some point and fucking save me. Everything into which I tend to dive in order to suppress the heartbreak will eventually run the fuck out, and then I’ll be in some real pretty shit. God damn, I can still see her... I see too much sometimes. The desire was so strong that I had to push pretty fucking hard to carry forward without faltering. Jesus. Rarely have I wanted something so badly. I was as fake and false as was humanly possible. Believe it. The outside of me no longer resembles who I have become. Anyway, so long as I can keep myself a little busy today, my head may be fine. I don’t want her breasts bouncing their way through my thoughts as I try to work. That would be very bad. The girl keeps coming back and haunting me every time I see the slightest resemblance in someone else. This is day four since I saw her and lost my mind. Predicting her exit from my daydreams is very difficult; seemingly impossible. I cannot know, however, because the desire – much like the other one and all those fucking dreams – is powerful and most of the time I am at the mercy of my obsession (and much more). I saw too much, like always, and that occasion continues to stand out among almost everything else I’ve seen. Her features were nearly too much for me to take. So fucking rare, that girl. A smile; a motion; my exploding head. Everything hit me hard and still lingers right behind my eyes. That little sundress is going to be the death of me. The other one? I can’t even get started with that shit because I am already far enough off my rocker. If people only knew what I’ve been thinking for these past couple of years... Holy Christ. Or worse? All that I’ve been imagining. Ooh-fa. Not good. Circumstances drove me to this shit. Believe it. Maybe I will place some of my thoughts into a new diary of sorts. Could that help? Will it help? I feel so alone and full of pain that I simply have to do something. The last of the coffee. I feel crappy this morning. Nothing physical, though. Just emotionally exhausted from trying to maintain the facade everyone already knows. I’m sick of this shit. I need her to save me. I need my savior. I fucking need her and my needs don’t matter anymore. Wonderful. The early evening is here. I finished all of the required preparations for the shed installation tomorrow and everything I typically do on a Sunday. Dinner will be leftovers. Very simple. Today is Monday; shed installation day. I moved everything yesterday and relocated my car this morning. All set. I don’t like three-hour windows for this type of thing, but whatever. The project will be finished soon enough. The flags are flying for the holiday, too. I like to hold the traditions as they felt way back when I was very young and during a period prior to becoming so fucking jaded that nothing seems appealing. National holidays push me to display the appropriate flags for respect, and today being Memorial day means the American flag is on its own right (per the federal flag code) and the POW-MIA flag is on the opposite side of the house. One on each corner for balance is the way I like it. Anyway, while waiting for the installation crew, I plan to tool around and take care of my usual chores and then move a few things around in the garage. The weather is overcast, but dry. Very good. I didn’t want any moisture on the concrete pad today. I am hoping the sun makes an appearance soon to warm the house. The hour is still early, although the window for their arrival is open. Now I just have to wait. At some point, I’ll go out and secure the side gate wide open so they have smooth access to the yard. The new gate can’t be used due to the top bridge and a tree right in the middle of the pathway. So, some time has passed and the shed is being constructed as I type these words. They arrived at roughly 0830, the time is now 1053 and the only things left are the roofing, windows and door. Unbelievable. They are very efficient, I must say. I provided some drinking water for them and will soon ask if they already have lunch in the truck. If not, I’m going to order food. I worked in construction for a very long time and understand that not every customer is nice, so I try to show my appreciation any way that I am able. For example, when the concrete pad was dug and formed, those guys were here in the sun all day. I provided tons of bottled water while they were working, and when they left, I sent each of the three with a case of beer because that’s the kind of customer I prefer to be. You never know if a call back will be necessary, so if everyone is happy, they will be more willing to help in the future. I’ve had my big camera out there on the tripod with a remote shutter release connected. I’ve been capturing images from the remote control all morning. I could have opted for time-interval shooting – which is completely automatic – but there have been long periods with not many visual changes. I’ll continue to grab a frame here and there as the work progresses. I can use the shutter release on the camera or the remote depending upon where I am for the shot. I fucking love my camera more than this control center, and that is saying quite a bit. The best part of this is not the shed finally coming to life, but the fact that this day has not crushed my feelings. Anything with the power to help me get through the hours comfortably is wholeheartedly welcomed. I also have a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. Big fucking surprise, that one. I’m a little miffed that this house is the only one within view with the American flag on display today. What the fuck is wrong with people? Don’t they know it’s a holiday? Or, worse, don’t they realize that we are enjoying life right now because of past honor, sacrifice and service? Fuck. Come on, people... Pull your collective heads out of your collective asses, please. Try to appreciate those who gave their lives so that we can be free. /rant I bought lunch for the two guys who are building the shed. They didn’t have anything with them, so I did the nice thing and had lunch delivered. That time has come and gone, and the shed work continues. One of them is applying the roof shingles and the other is installing the door. Everything looks really nice thus far. I don’t know how much time is required for the job to be finished, but I will be capturing images and taking a look every now and then throughout the afternoon. The remote shutter release has been working beautifully. Holy shit, there is a reason I refer to Jamie as the goddess of the universe. Wow. Even when her character has a shit attitude, she is still head and shoulders above the rest. In the audio industry (or what I used to do... RF calibration), she would be known as a ‘reference standard’; the actual reference against which everything else in the world is compared. The NIST might not agree, but I already know the truth. Don’t even get me fucking started on the topic of defense electronics. Just trust me... I love her so deeply that there is chronic, endless pain in my heart. Tuesday is here, all sunny and quiet. I need some of this after the past week’s activities and shed installation. I can take my time and care for some housework today, add a few items to the new shed (mostly things that have been waiting until its completion), and then spend time considering other options for my free time. I actually have the house to myself for the first time in more than a week, considering the trip and vacation. The house is all mine and I fully intend to make improvements now that the big project is out of the way. To that end, the work yesterday went very well from beginning to end, and I am very pleased to have that space available for storage now and an extra living space in the future. During the late afternoon yesterday, I began moving some items and two shelving units to the shed prior to making dinner. I’ll be continuing today with even more time because dinner will be in the slow cooker. The last of the coffee is here next to me. I’ll begin some laundry and organization very soon. I need to keep busy because the other essay – not to mention the fact that I’ve been considering writing yet another just to vent my feelings about the damaging dreams – is pushing at my consciousness this morning. There is plenty enough to keep me busy, so perhaps I can shove the bad shit away today and come out the other side ok. Sometimes Mary DeAngelis resembles Disney’s Ursula, and not in a good way. Heh. Whenever Mary has a severe expression on her face, Ursula comes to mind. She is fucking scary. Anyway, I’m going to take care of business a bit earlier than usual today, including lunch, and then consider longer-term changes thanks to the shed. I also need to contact my buddy the contractor to learn of the time frame for a roof and patio cover estimate. Here I sit a few hours later with my fat cocktail and some work out of the way. The laundry has been running all morning, meaning there is not much left to do on that front. Once lunch is out of the way, I’m going to see what can be moved into the shed. I have to focus upon the house first, and then the garage will change later. I’d like to create enough space for the car to fit again. Along those lines, I must consider the configuration of the shed so as to avoid making anything difficult to access. I’d like to maintain order out there. Ah, shit... The song that plays in the background during a scene within this episode and again over the end credits is fucking horrible. Ugh. Whatever. And there is the goddess of the universe again. I don’t know what sort of power (or anything else) dictated her appearance and mannerisms, but when I see her face my heart melts into a puddle of goo, much like when Andrea smiled at me so many years ago. I can’t forget that woman because she represented the lion’s share of my desires in life. As for the other one, the lovely Jamie, my feelings don’t matter in the least. She is not real. Frozen in time, a la Jolaimora. Maybe I should switch programs so Nora will eventually appear. Or, conversely, maybe I should avoid allowing myself to see any one of the three that make up the name I created. Everything is just shit right now. No savior; no nothing." 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
The Savior Intermission Mature content No. 413 Published May 29th, 2024 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Between the aspects of life that have disappeared and how different everything in the world is now compared to three-plus decades ago, this type of mood during a typical mid-afternoon is not surprising at all. I am beyond stuck today. At least all of the normal daily stuff is out of the way. I guess that’s better than the opposite. My brain has been going back in time over and over, the result typically being sadness and anger due to everything that is gone. Early this morning I was again reminded of the purity and its dramatic effects upon my psyche, mostly due to my suspicion that it is fading, possibly becoming permanent sooner than I could have predicted years ago. To say that I do not like the idea is a gross understatement. I must also point out that going back in time not only creates a deep sense of loss, but it also relates to the purity. I’ve been reminiscing while watching the second series and remembering the way the world was back then is very fucking depressing. These late days know little happiness, if any at all. Being reminded of the purity and how it often dominates my thoughts is as depressing as recalling the time when I first watched some of those episodes... The glowing years continue to increase in importance and have collectively become the single most rewarding period of my life, hands down. Not everything was glowing, yet compared to the present, the problems that arose back then now appear minuscule in comparison to the condition of my head and heart. ‘Deeper I go, deeper down. Didn’t think it could get any blacker.’ Yep. His words are more connected to me now than years ago when I first heard them. Each day finds me realizing less and less reason to continue doing whatever the fuck it is I’ve been doing for the last four years. Pathetic, but not my fault. And just because I have all but given up does not mean I am any weaker or less capable than prior to the loss of everything. I can still accomplish anything to which I put my mind. The problem is those two shit situations combined with the recent recollection of a third party and her very harmful remark (while smiling, I might add). Very little of what I’ve been going through is my fucking fault. Losing the purity and being reminded of what it once represented is a byproduct of the way I think. Along such a line, the purity is not only one of the largest points of contention in existence, but also something directly related to both shit situations. BOTH. I may be inadequate to the task of rising above this situation. I shall go through the motions and see how I feel coming out the other side. All my stuff is finished. I have not approached the mural today because I ended up burnt out yesterday and need to think about how I should proceed. Tuesday is here regardless of how painful the passage of time has become. Sandra and her big, round breasts are gracing the screen from time to time, effectively reducing my mental abilities to the minimum. Marvelous. Anyway, aside from all saving throws and the thrall of beauty, my day has progressed enough to allow for a cocktail break and some thinking, Sandra’s amazing chest notwithstanding. My routine is out of the way and I have a bit of a plan for the early afternoon. At some point I need to pick up a few things from the cleaners and then grab a set of paintbrushes from the hardware store on the return trip. No big deal. Ah... One of my namesakes is about to be uttered within the show. NIce. The name was an alias way back during the cave period, and used while I was still active in a few chat rooms. The Internet handle was unique, for sure, and often caused others to ask of the genesis. I may adopt a domain name or two that represent my feelings for that humorous moniker. On other fronts, I’ve not been motivated enough to continue the mural because the details are painstakingly difficult and very slow to progress. I’ll get to it sooner or later. Maybe I’ll feel motivated after lunch. I need 'her' to 'save' me. She is my savior. Well, she could be. Oh, boy. I don’t need some of the pressure that goes along with always being as people have expected. I really don’t need my fucking neighbor’s expectations all rolled up and launched at me like a missile, nor do I want to answer any more God damned questions about any fucking subject on earth. I’m fucking sick of it. Ignoring certain individuals might prove the only way to proceed. Hopefully, they will get the point. I’ve spent years rolling around this town and repairing so much shit that I’ve lost count. No more of this, damn it. No more. Wednesday. Later than usual. The daily routine is finished and laundry is running. I went to the big store this morning and secured a new kitchen faucet because the old one has been irritating the hell out of me every time I need to spray the sink. I already installed the new unit and it’s working very well. As for the shopping, my trip came and went without problems. Cocktail hour arrived while I installed the faucet, as well, meaning I can relax for a while and consider options for the rest of the day. I will probably head to the garage after lunch and do more painting and layout on the mural. As of yesterday, the upper sections are finished. I’d like to go over the black lines with a fine brush so they blend in with the rest of the image. At that point, I’ll have to begin the painstaking process of outlining the lower section. Last night may have been the last time the car can park inside the garage until after the shed is installed. I need the space for everything that has been piling, plus the furniture will be arriving sometime Friday afternoon and it is too large to keep out of the way so the car can fit without restriction. Very bad. I have all of Thursday to myself – only a possible, short trip to the smaller market may take place – and sitting here this morning is already a chore. A trial, really. The most difficult aspect of living lately has begun to overshadow everything else. The other crap I’ve been working on is losing importance, and I am speaking of feelings that came up just a few hours ago. Yes, the fucking subconscious again... It hit me with a dream involving a very kind person – one of whom I asked a question critical to my ability to live – who tried to help a little bit until I realized the entire scene was a very bad idea and left me in a horrible light. In the beginning it was amazement when I first asked her to help with an opinion, but afterward I knew something was either already wrong or would be heading in a downward direction very soon. She did help, though. The woman was very kind to me. Her assurance that my condition was ‘good’ helped to lift me for a few seconds until I realized that none of it mattered in the grand scheme of life. Upon awakening, my head descended further than in recent memory. It is still in the black at this very moment. I have my coffee and one of my favorite programs running, all the time in the world to do whatever seems best today, an item arriving in the mail later that will probably put a smile on my face for a little while, yet even with all those positives, I know none of it really makes any difference in my life. Reality will intrude and leave me empty, lost and very sad regardless of the little things that historically boosted me on a given day. This situation hurts more than anything else in the world and I don’t know how to deal with it so I can function like a real grown-up type of person. I don’t know if ‘things’ should be different right now or not. Maybe this condition was predetermined long ago. There is simply no way to be certain of any of it. I have to go through the motions, however, and in doing so perhaps I can find a measure of distraction from all this sadness. I wish the world was different. Just a little bit, too. Nothing dramatic. The more upset I become lately, the more chance that I’ll spend some money on something that can lift me for a little while. I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now, though. I don’t know much of anything, really. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. The woman in the dream with whom I spoke was unlike the typical faces I’ve seen in the past. Quite different, honestly, and her appearance may have been influenced by a couple of movies I’ve watched in recent days. The process could be something else, though, and I’ll probably never know the truth, nor will I know who she was. My questions have remained unanswered for far too long to allow me to trust a fucking thing in this backward world, people included. No answers, as I’ve mused for nearly two decades. The shit below in a different color is from zero-nine and was generated when I began to see that my life was going to go nowhere for the duration. Not real ‘She is above Carmen, Jennifer, the other Jennifer, and the one who shall remain unnamed in these writings. She is, quite literally, above all. I have not seen her face on the television or elsewhere for several weeks and now I catch a glimpse in the finest of clarity. God damn, she is beautiful. Her eyes just go on forever and I long to swim in their gaze. Two limpid pools of tootsie roll brown surrounded by fluttering eyelids and tanned skin the likes of which I cannot understand. She confuses my senses enough to circumvent the procedures of life. All other challenges are simplified and any puzzle is minimized when placed against her dynamic and powerful pull on my reasoning. I can no longer function properly once her vision is glanced. She is incredible and I am losing control. Fuck. Why must I see her when my place in the world is defensive? Can I not get through a troublesome day and evening without the sight of her derailing my thought process? Does this mean I have yet another reason to look into my grave? Will that help me forget my place in the world and the realization that she is on a level I will never understand? My present state of mind cannot handle another draw in the near future. Not at all. I just cannot fucking work with anything else right now. My weekend has been trying in the most dramatic sense and a vision of her is counter productive to the nth degree. Oh god, what a fucking sight. After a decent gathering in honor of the big game and associated festivities, I am spent. Full of rum yet again and full of thoughts indecent I will remain for the night. Thoughts in the gutter, in the grave, into the future, and into my own past. I am reflective and regretful. This is a bad time. Such a bad period. I am annoying, defending of my suicidal nature, vocal of my dislikes, and so very negative and full of shame. I am shameful in the extreme. I cannot sit and think of how I must look to anyone outside my own drowned brain. My distilled and pickled thoughts are the worst right now. Fear is tremendous and my worry is in the red. Consideration of my end is appealing and I am constantly wishing for the grave. The grave represents the exit from feeling. Feeling equals misery.’ Was the woman in the dream my savior? Like the images, she is not real. Splendid. I’ve been functioning every day for the sole purpose of helping other people for so long that I don’t even know how to live any other way. That’s the reason I effectively shut down one neighbor last week. I’m tired of it. No one understands my behavior lately because I will not fucking communicate clearly exactly what has been going through my head. First, I need not burden others with this shit, and second, the type of understanding and help I need just is not going to come along. The more time that passes, the worse I become, and the less chance of understanding there can be. Less and less, day by day. I am still helping certain individuals, too, and mostly to continue keeping the little parts of my life in place that I can still (somewhat) enjoy. Not everything, mind you, but some. The dream this morning has once again derailed the fucking title, too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get around to such a topic. The arrival of my item in the mail later will provide temporary distraction, just as the shed in less than two weeks. The mural work has the ability to send me into the forest for a little while until everything comes back and delivers me all tidy and neat into a pit of blackness. The tertiary processes that boost me for a little while always come to an end and leave me worse off than before. Matter of time. I wish I could again speak to that woman from the dream this morning. Maybe she could have helped. The question I posed to her was so deeply personal and potentially damaging that I still can’t believe I asked at all. Needs have outnumbered moments of comfort. The dream is nothing more than a reminder that my life has been over for quite some time and I am floating along toward the grave; a railroad track with no turns. At some point I have to do my housework. Done. Cocktail time, mostly due to the morning being a complete disaster. The item for which I had been waiting has arrived and exceeds my expectations. Hopefully, I can ride this wave for a long while. Anything that can lift me from the blackened morning is welcomed. And, um... Alcohol, too. The love of my life is on the right-hand display again, and such a statement is indicative of just how far out of balance I have become. Did I already point that out? Many times. I keep saying the same things over and over and over. This is what I’ve become due to the routing, squishing and disregarding which has continued for more than thirty years. No one takes me seriously anymore. Maybe they never did. I wish I knew why. I don’t know which would be better, a high-priced call girl or an expensive therapist. Both rolled into one may be the best option. Does she exist? My day will proceed very slowly from now until dinner time – I can’t seem to get the idea of ‘her’ out of my brain for very long – because I just don’t care about going above and beyond the norm. I’m going to work on the mural in a little while with the music of life playing quietly in the background. As for the garage, well... Do not approach. If people only realized how I REALLY think these days. Holy shit. Believe me... You don’t want to know. Trust the words. I have little reason to falsify myself anymore. There are thoughts and dreams inside my head that MUST remain as such or people will take issue with the way I see everything. Very bad. At least I am already accustomed to keeping everything bottled inside (a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession). The way I view the world and other people has changed dramatically since the first damaging dream. Moreover, I saw little reason to try censoring my thoughts regarding beauty, meaning even more work is involved in holding my tongue during certain very specific situations. The mural has nothing to do with beauty. It is a process that I am hoping leads to some help. That is that. I’ll work a bit more if the mood strikes. Friday morning... Coffee. I am awaiting the arrival of my furniture from the valley. It should be here after eleven or so, perhaps later. I don’t have much to do as far as the routine is concerned because dinner was very simple and I took care of the entire floor yesterday. I will probably move a few items around in the spare bedroom in order to rework that section of flooring for later use. I need to try extracting yesterday’s mood and loss from my brain before I do bad things today. The painting will probably help, so once I get away from this crap, I’ll care for the housework and then head in other directions. Very exciting. There is Jamie again, not long before her nineteenth birthday. Even back then her eyes drew me like a gun. Little did I know that years later I’d fall head over heels for that girl. Unbelievable, but then again not really. Basket case. The unreal always smashes the shit out of reality. Blame the past. I received confirmation of the furniture pickup; less than an hour from now. I would imagine the movers will be here roughly two hours after that. I’ll have to take care of the routine and then head out there to move some things out of the way. The garage and spare bedroom will be a little out of order for the next week and a half until the shed is installed, but I don’t mind. The end result will be a tremendous improvement all the way around. I can wait; I’ve been waiting years for this type of installation. I am hoping the work will distract me from all the other shit that took hold of me yesterday prior to painting. I spent four hours on some detailed work and the image looks wonderful. Painting the lines is very tedious. Anyway, I have plenty to keep me busy today. I need to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s massive pitfall. A face; a slight smile; caring beyond comprehension. I don’t understand at all and continue to wrestle with such imagery. It makes me very sad. Jamie’s big tootsie-roll eyes are going to remain inside me today. Her windows know no equal, and that includes the rest of Jolaimora. Ugh. Ugh... Again. Everything is finished, the furniture is in the garage, I modified the spare bedroom in order to clean the floor prior to moving more stuff, and now I am tired. ‘It wasn’t my fault! How many FUCKING times do I have to say it?!’ – God bless the most beautiful woman ever to exist, even when her adorable character’s behavior and decisions were questionable. Just a thought. Still no title reference whatsoever. Perhaps this is simply the way of things. Doesn’t matter. The title has been changed yet again. I am searching for my savior. Ugh. Not real Saturday is going to be very mellow, I believe. I am still pretty tired from yesterday’s business and a little impromptu gathering in the garage. My mural project was the main topic, so I remained for a while and discussed the factors involved in having such a controversial symbol that large on display. The drive earlier this morning was quite smooth and sans incident. Being home with very little to do today is very nice (so far). My head has not gone sideways as of yet. The dream from the other morning has faded some, but I can still see her speaking to me, reacting and answering my question. Her eyes informed me of everything I needed to know. The purity may well be the worst aspect of life right now. Distractions are going to increase in importance, likely beyond any realistic ideas. Very soon I will not know what to do. Part of this feeling is due to something I saw yesterday that would have been better left unseen. I don’t need any more reminders of everything that is missing from this fucking life, least of all something like THAT right before my desperate, deviant eyes. Between the dream and the sights, I am going to lose my shit pretty soon. I’ll flip the fuck out. The way I live my life is very unhealthy and I know full well of such a fact. Something has to happen, but what? A darkened doorstep? A limousine carrying three women and a briefcase? Shit, that last one dates back so far that I can’t even remember. Thirty-five years? Jesus. Will something happen? Will I be able to connect with that one I keep seeing that drives me completely insane? No fucking way. She is not impossible per se, but the level of improbability is off the fucking scale. I may as well not even think about her in that way. Shit. Fuck. Wonderful. Nothing good is on my horizon. My attraction to that girl is a byproduct of so many fucking problematic factors that I don’t even know where to start. Shit on it. Later. The routine is finished and I have a cocktail next to me. Typical for this point in the day. ‘Again with the purity?’ ‘Yeah! Again with the purity!’ Early mornings are becoming something I fear when I go to bed at night. I recall dreams, but nothing specific. I was using a can opener or possibly working with someone else to construct a project with cans. I don’t fully recall because the purity reared its head and left me sad once again. One day soon, that topic will take over my consciousness and leave me for dead. I can’t do anything about this because the understanding is probably not ‘out there’ somewhere waiting for me. Or at least... Maybe theI need is there to ‘react’ to me. I need ‘her’. I keep seeing and feeling and wallowing; every day is the same at some point, be it sadness and reckless behavior during the mid-morning or anger in the afternoon. Every single fucking day turns to shit at one point or another, and now the purity is beginning to drive everything else into the fucking ground. There have been too many occasions when I learned that FINALLY everything was going to be ok, that I’d found the understanding, only to be awakened to the realization that a day has passed and I am worse than the previous occasion of the same. This morning feels just like that... Sad and knowing there is nothing left for me. I am tired of knowing all this shit and tired of constantly trying to find anything with the power to lift me for a little while. There is probably no end to such a situation, hence the creation of a construct that no one understands but me. I won’t spell it out, either. Today is Sunday and I have lots of business to attend; afterward there will be time to advance the project and maybe consider getting my camera equipment set up for Tuesday morning. I am looking more forward to arriving home after the drive than I am to going in the first place. Feeling that I need to get the hell out of here is a daily occurrence, but this little trip ain’t gonna cut the fucking mustard. When I say I want to go somewhere, I mean a decent road trip for fuck’s sake. Well, aside from those times when I acquire something small that later comes in the mail, I am just not going to get what I need (or want). In any case, ceasing my concern and heartache over the purity will require otherworldly power or some kind of miracle. Not likely. I have the whole day to myself and that will have to be good enough for now. This shit will fade soon and time will roll right over me like it always does. I could speak to my savior about the purity, but no one else. That means the likelihood of speaking is so remote that there is little point in considering such a wondrous and loving situation. Unbelievable. I was told recently that I’ve been saying the same things using different words at times. Didn’t I fucking point that out some years ago? Yes, I did. This is all I have... The machine and the keyboard combined are my therapist, so if I sound as if I’m going in circles, read more. I’ve said that many times, too. Repeating myself is a byproduct of having written more than 177,000 lines of code in less than four years. Try it yourself and see how your own process develops. I’ve railroaded information aplenty and will continue to do so until my death. I will also say that whenever I can’t make progress on my mental and emotional condition, I resort to describing my days or something special that crossed my vision because the process is nearly the most comforting aspect of my life that I have left. There you go. Write it down, roll up the paper, set it afire and then shove it in your ass. Criticizing my work here is akin to criticizing empty fucking space. ‘Arguing detectives (are) like making giant lamb stew... Everything go to pot.’ [sic] I might be completely finished communicating with other people save for a precious few that I must deal with in person. I just might be done with it. I am alone in two ways, and one of them is really nice. When I need to push back, I push hard. If the same thing occurs a second time, that’s the end of everything. Trust me. I don’t need any flap about this content. Shut the fuck up, everyone. The last of the coffee is next to me and Saundra’s gorgeous eyes are on the right-hand display, all dark and enticing. God bless that woman’s beauty. From there? Over to the Bing where Sean and Chris are being stupid fucking idiots for the first time. Those guys had plenty of ambition, but their underlying impatience and recklessness came to haunt them in the worst way. Anyway, the lack of a morning drive has left me with more free time today. I’ll be into the routine earlier than usual. There is Saundra again, this time in a sweater that frames her big, beautiful breasts in a way not often seen in the real world. Don’t even get me started with the other one... On the Vegas program. Jesus, she was amazing. Ugh. Those two women aren’t real, don’t matter, and exist only in the past and in my brain. Splendid. What I really need in this life are more reminders that I am losing grip on reality. Later. The routine is finished. I still have some organization to do, a bit of floor cleaning in the spare bedroom, and the garbage business. I’ll get around to everything after a short break with my fatass cocktail. Each time I head to the garage for anything, I add a few lines to the mural so I can nickel and dime the larger, more complex portions of the illustration. After lunch will probably be the best time for me to add ink outlines and paint to some of the overall image. Dinner will be very simple, meaning my time is open for as long as I’d like to spend out there on that huge mural. And I did just that... Some of the more detailed work is complete, mostly on the lower section. I still have lots to do. Monday is here, and now that the morning drive is out of the way – something which is a rarity for the first business day of the week – I have the entire day for whatever seems best. Right now, coffee time is still first on the list, along with a bit of research into driving halfway across the state tomorrow. Thursday morning, 0908, and I just took my first sip of coffee. Unbelievable. I forgot to pick up cream yesterday, figured I’d just get coffee up the street for the drive this morning, and then realized I had zero cash (that’s all they accept). So, I took off for the City with no coffee, watched one hell of a gorgeous Asian woman in super cute pants walk away from my car while parked, ended up in some ugly traffic thanks to a lane closure DURING THE MORNING COMMUTE TIME (who decided that?), and then returned to town and stopped at the market for some items. Pants... Right out of the gate. I couldn’t even articulate my sweatshirt because my brain immediately glued itself to her lines upon exiting the car. What a fucking beauty. After being out of town for a day and a half and having walked all over the place without any problems, I get slammed in the face closer to home. Orange pants. Lines of life. Could that beautiful woman have been my savior? Now there is nothing left but pain inside. Shopping. Home. Thank the maker. The museum visit and a bar afterward were the highlights of the trip. Amazing stuff followed by lots of relaxation. Three stops on the return drive meant that I did not fatigue much, although one stop was a big produce market on the highway and that place held one of the most wondrous sights I’ve seen in years. Again... She was Asian, most likely Chinese. Very young, too. I averted my eyes fairly quickly so as to avoid meeting her gaze in that small store. The damage was acute and still rings in my head nearly an entire day later. She had two features which tend to be extremely rare on an Asian woman, and both stood out to my distorted sense of vision and even more distorted way of thinking. By the time I exited the produce market, I had already gone around the world with that girl, all in my fucking head. I still can’t believe the sheer level of effort it took for me to avoid staring at her fucking chest and the way the sundress fit her slender frame. Jesus. There is something very wrong in the world. Very fucking wrong. I don’t need this shit anymore. The purity came to mind very early this morning, and when combined with much of what I have been seeing since yesterday – most notably the rare, exotic stunner at the store – my resulting mindset is pretty solidly suicidal, with bits and pieces awaiting the return of some normalcy after the trip. The coffee is helping with said normalcy, along with my program running on the right-hand display. Soon I’ll get into some laundry work and move some things around in the garage to further prepare for the shed’s arrival on Monday. Every single fucking step today is going to be followed by a pair of amazing breasts, long black hair, and a very thin sundress that I desperately needed to swallow. That was a very bad one, and not just due to my obsession. The damaging dreams came into play for reasons I can’t spell out here, and the combination of all that shit – with the aforementioned purity – is really taking its toll on me today. The housework had better hold me up for a while. I’ve been wondering how much longer I can sit here and speak about my feelings before some sort of change is forced upon me. Along with everything else today, I’ll try to consider the value of this shit. As an aside, I pulled the content from the production environment the other day with no plans to reverse the decision. That is one more thing on the plate for this day. The girl from yesterday filled me with more desire than anything in recent memory. The thoughts became savage and very difficult to reconcile. My words may become much more pointed and detailed, hence the decision to work offline only. Was the amazing Asian girl my savior? Was she real? Do my feelings fucking matter anymore? Not real Ok, the laundry has begun. I can’t seem to get the purity out of my mind this morning, and the biggest part of the problem is that I already know it’s an emotional situation and nothing else. After all these years, I should not be surprised at all. I will say in no uncertain terms that if the purity goes away, I’ll be dead very soon after such a realization. There will be nothing else powerful enough to hold me up anymore. Days like today, after being away from home for some time, should actually feel really good because this is the only place I can find comfort lately. The hotel was very luxurious and quiet, yet nothing is the same as being in my own space without concern for dealing with many other people. Any nice hotels notwithstanding, the fact is that each day which passes leaves me less and less able to truly be comfortable. The purity may end up the one factor that dictates the rest of my life. That is a very sad statement, but again, I am the product of time and circumstances, as I am sure many others are as well. Very sad, indeed. I will make my way through the rest of the morning and see how I feel later. Friday morning, post drive, and I am sitting here a full hour earlier than yesterday. Thank the maker. The girl is still bouncing her way through my brain, the purity is still the prime issue in my heart, and I am feeling quite angry over being made to feel such pain this late in life. Not everything is positive. The mural has more detail, outlining and paint. I finished all three loads of laundry yesterday and organized everything after being away. The problem continues to be the fact that no matter what I accomplish on a given day, the heartbreaking feelings come to me unimpeded and often. This is the true beginning of the end. I can’t handle things like some months ago. Even the tiniest detail will set me off and push further; harder than in the past. The Asian girl, for example, has produced so much turmoil inside me that I can barely go in any direction for five fucking minutes without picturing her shape. There was a very powerful need for me to see all of her. So powerful, in fact, that due to the impossibility of such a situation, I am seeing that the only way to alleviate the feelings is to die. Nothing else will push her out of my brain, and more importantly, nothing has the ability to satiate so much desire. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. I have this entire day to myself and the shed is arriving early next week, and all the while the positives of being here in control of my environment are shrinking. The points I made are huge positives in life. I don’t have to work anymore. That is a living situation for which I dreamed for decades, mostly during the last few years of working as a plumber. Here I sit after four years of being home and the feeling is the same – freedom from commuting and complying. But? My heart is fucking smashed to bits and hurts more right now than years ago. The advantage of finally living near the ocean and in a cooler climate than the previous decades is huge, but again... Heartbroken. I’ve been relegated; routed; squished, and none of it can be removed. These situations still occur from time to time, effectively reinforcing the idea that the past shaped all I can ever be; limits have been imposed and there is nothing I can do about them. Wait... What? Speak to someone? Who? A professional? Nope. I’ve already railroaded several and will do it again. Someone else, you say? Who? A friend? I only have acquaintances. The person in this house? Nope. Again... I can’t view anyone in terms of help because those I know are all a part of the problem. No one fucking listens or takes me seriously, anyway, so tell me the fucking point of even beginning such a process. Go for it. And then tell me that I am wrong to feel so much desire for that girl in the produce market. Try me. Today will move along like all the others, I guess. I need to take care of little things in preparation for the shed and other matters. Anything I can do that will ease the weight of my emotional condition will be helpful, and I plan to embrace every fucking second of it. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll probably head in some other direction for a little while and see how I feel. I still see her smiling while perusing the market. She was an enigma, and believe me when I say that I know precisely of what I speak after decades of scrutinizing beauty from every conceivable standpoint, angle, and opportunity to ‘see’ what I’ve needed. She was an enigma, for sure. Very, very rare due to a couple of points that I will refrain from stating here for reasons of good form. She was a person above all other concerns, and I loathe to be disrespectful. Oh, the odds of this being published in the future AND her reading it AND knowing she is the topic are beyond astronomical. Regardless, I can’t say anything harsh or add too many details. Just trust me... The girl was unique and I know enough in this life to be completely certain of such a fact. When I think of her, I believe there is more ‘need’ than ‘want’ at this point in time. ‘Need’ is beyond overwhelming these days. You don’t want to know the full extent of that word as related to this endless, pathetic search. I was there and will probably never be there again. All rails, roads and paths in life lead to the cemetery. I really need to be there, damn it. I also need to go back in time and speak to a few individuals in the language of violence. Neither is possible and here I sit for the thousandth time with zero options. This morning’s cocktail will be welcomed like a lover. Later. I am miserable. I cannot get the information, pain or the sight from the other day out of my head for more than a few seconds. I took care of the daily routine and performed some organization; she followed along at every step and I can’t think very well as a result. This is fucked up to the nth degree. The cocktail had better do its job of calming my head for a little while or something bad is going to happen. She may have been Japanese but I can’t be certain. I need so much fucking help that the grave is looking more and more like the only way out of this painful condition. I am hoping that my words do not become more pointed. I need to see her but don’t want to see anything ever again. Desperation is dangerous, but not for me. The danger is to others. Now that the morning work is finished, I’ll have to point myself in some fucking direction in order to remain somewhere closer to ‘balanced’. That may not exist anymore. Shit... I don’t know what the hell I am saying anymore. I’ve lost the damned title three times and have no idea where it went, hence all these stupid intermissions. I am in so much emotional pain that I can barely function right now. Maybe I should work on the mural and shut out the entire universe for a while. I’ll be just the same (if not worse), but at least I can push some feelings away for a little while. If I’m going to be miserable, I may as well try to create gaps in the misery. Otherwise, why continue living? What am I waiting for? My own enigma? Understanding? Answers? Eh... I have some of them already. The others are most unlikely. No enigma for me, only more of the same. Saturday coffee and streaming media are here with me. I have to go across town during the mid–afternoon for a birthday dinner, but other than that, the time is all mine like yesterday. Friday morning was very difficult and heart-wrenching and I am hoping the same type of situation does not have a chance to develop today. If I can get through seeing the goddess of the universe for a little while, there is hope that the day won’t head downhill anytime soon. Eh... Never mind. The morning is shit, my attitude toward everything is worsening, and I still have to get through the rest of the morning. One might believe that the advantages to this current living situation could outweigh the bad shit, but that is just not true much of the time. Emotional damage can’t be rectified by many aspects of daily life. Bandages always come off. I was trying to secure one this morning but to no avail. My situation is not improving. I suppose I’ll try to embrace my little devices for a while and see if they can help. God damn do I ever love that girl. She is at the top of a very long list of reasons I can no longer deal with reality. Big fucking surprise there, huh? Fuck you. The one who can save me is out there. She exists; I’ve seen the clues and examples of such caring and understanding. I have fucking seen it in spades, yet no matter where I look, she is not there. Or... Is she? There is no way to be certain because a connection is so improbable after all this time. I’ve seen eyes, too. Lots of them. I cannot know what is behind them for the same reason: So much time has passed since I was ‘there’ that I’ve become hypersensitized and more desperate than ever. That means any possibilities would most likely be destroyed through my behavior or words. That is not to say she does not exist, however. As I said, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen plenty and I fucking KNOW a savior is out there, somewhere. The evidence of such a person has been mounting for more years than I can recall right now. I’ve seen plenty, trust me. The last of the coffee is next to me and Jamie’s big doe eyes are on the screen. Shit. Whatever. At least I’m already accustomed to seeing that goddess over and over and I know when the key moments are going to come along within the narrative. Her eyes become so sweet that I need to run outside and repeatedly bash my head on the concrete until I lose consciousness. Not good. If ever I felt that I am weak, the realization comes along when I see Jamie. I know it’s bad for me but I can’t fucking help it anymore. What do I have in reality that can help? Booze? Painting? Typing? The answer is nothing. At some point I’ll take care of business this morning and then wrap the birthday presents. The time to leave is five hours away and I am already looking forward to returning home. Of all the places in the world, this house is the only place where I feel even remotely safe; somewhat protected (against what, exactly?). Dinner will come and go, I will arrive back home shortly thereafter, and then relax and consider the next couple of days. I received confirmation that the shed will be installed in two days. Why they are doing the work on a national holiday is beyond me, but whatever. I’ll take it. Tomorrow I need to move some things around in the backyard to prepare for their arrival, which I understand has been predicted for between eight and eleven in the morning. I will probably work toward that end today, as well. I need to find a way of extricating that fucking Asian enigma from my tired brain, too. Damn. I’ve not seen her like before, to be honest, and the memory is driving me up the wall. There was something about her face that informed me of certain personality aspects – of course, I could be dead wrong, yet the suspicion remains – which have been parts of my savior dream for a very long period of time. Her facial expressions and mannerisms told me quite a bit. The result of seeing all that shit is nothing more than pain and confusion. The mural, organization and shed had better hold me the fuck up or something bad is going to take place. Very bad, to be sure. I wish I could gush regarding what struck me about that fucking girl, but it’s best I leave the subject alone. No one will like it and the process will most likely push me further down. Not real The coffee is gone and half the routine is out of the way. I guess I’ll get to the other half soon, along with my little buddy, the typical morning cocktail. I made both salads yesterday, so there is very little I need to do prior to leaving this afternoon. Four hours. As I said before, I am already looking forward to returning home after dinner. I need to be here among my pathetic devices. Dinner was fine. Sunday is here. The drive was smooth and uneventful. I have the entire day for whatever is best. The shed arrives tomorrow morning (they gave me a window of time), so I’ll have to prepare the area and move a few things around today. I was up a little bit later than I should have but still drove this morning, and earlier than the norm. I’ll have to keep myself organized today because of the garbage work and incoming workers tomorrow morning. There was a very special sight that I am trying to reconcile right now. A scent, too. I can’t seem to get her out of my head because the situation caught me off-guard and left me almost bereft of words. The bra strap came to mind for the thousandth time and had me at sixes and sevens for quite some time. My feelings are on the edge of being controllable entirely too often. I don’t need any more reminders of emptiness and loss. Someone has to come along at some point and fucking save me. Everything into which I tend to dive in order to suppress the heartbreak will eventually run the fuck out, and then I’ll be in some real pretty shit. God damn, I can still see her... I see too much sometimes. The desire was so strong that I had to push pretty fucking hard to carry forward without faltering. Jesus. Rarely have I wanted something so badly. I was as fake and false as was humanly possible. Believe it. The outside of me no longer resembles who I have become. Anyway, so long as I can keep myself a little busy today, my head may be fine. I don’t want her breasts bouncing their way through my thoughts as I try to work. That would be very bad. The girl keeps coming back and haunting me every time I see the slightest resemblance in someone else. This is day four since I saw her and lost my mind. Predicting her exit from my daydreams is very difficult; seemingly impossible. I cannot know, however, because the desire – much like the other one and all those fucking dreams – is powerful and most of the time I am at the mercy of my obsession (and much more). I saw too much, like always, and that occasion continues to stand out among almost everything else I’ve seen. Her features were nearly too much for me to take. So fucking rare, that girl. A smile; a motion; my exploding head. Everything hit me hard and still lingers right behind my eyes. That little sundress is going to be the death of me. The other one? I can’t even get started with that shit because I am already far enough off my rocker. If people only knew what I’ve been thinking for these past couple of years... Holy Christ. Or worse? All that I’ve been imagining. Ooh-fa. Not good. Circumstances drove me to this shit. Believe it. Maybe I will place some of my thoughts into a new diary of sorts. Could that help? Will it help? I feel so alone and full of pain that I simply have to do something. The last of the coffee. I feel crappy this morning. Nothing physical, though. Just emotionally exhausted from trying to maintain the facade everyone already knows. I’m sick of this shit. I need her to save me. I need my savior. I fucking need her and my needs don’t matter anymore. Wonderful. The early evening is here. I finished all of the required preparations for the shed installation tomorrow and everything I typically do on a Sunday. Dinner will be leftovers. Very simple. Today is Monday; shed installation day. I moved everything yesterday and relocated my car this morning. All set. I don’t like three-hour windows for this type of thing, but whatever. The project will be finished soon enough. The flags are flying for the holiday, too. I like to hold the traditions as they felt way back when I was very young and during a period prior to becoming so fucking jaded that nothing seems appealing. National holidays push me to display the appropriate flags for respect, and today being Memorial day means the American flag is on its own right (per the federal flag code) and the POW-MIA flag is on the opposite side of the house. One on each corner for balance is the way I like it. Anyway, while waiting for the installation crew, I plan to tool around and take care of my usual chores and then move a few things around in the garage. The weather is overcast, but dry. Very good. I didn’t want any moisture on the concrete pad today. I am hoping the sun makes an appearance soon to warm the house. The hour is still early, although the window for their arrival is open. Now I just have to wait. At some point, I’ll go out and secure the side gate wide open so they have smooth access to the yard. The new gate can’t be used due to the top bridge and a tree right in the middle of the pathway. So, some time has passed and the shed is being constructed as I type these words. They arrived at roughly 0830, the time is now 1053 and the only things left are the roofing, windows and door. Unbelievable. They are very efficient, I must say. I provided some drinking water for them and will soon ask if they already have lunch in the truck. If not, I’m going to order food. I worked in construction for a very long time and understand that not every customer is nice, so I try to show my appreciation any way that I am able. For example, when the concrete pad was dug and formed, those guys were here in the sun all day. I provided tons of bottled water while they were working, and when they left, I sent each of the three with a case of beer because that’s the kind of customer I prefer to be. You never know if a call back will be necessary, so if everyone is happy, they will be more willing to help in the future. I’ve had my big camera out there on the tripod with a remote shutter release connected. I’ve been capturing images from the remote control all morning. I could have opted for time-interval shooting – which is completely automatic – but there have been long periods with not many visual changes. I’ll continue to grab a frame here and there as the work progresses. I can use the shutter release on the camera or the remote depending upon where I am for the shot. I fucking love my camera more than this control center, and that is saying quite a bit. The best part of this is not the shed finally coming to life, but the fact that this day has not crushed my feelings. Anything with the power to help me get through the hours comfortably is wholeheartedly welcomed. I also have a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. Big fucking surprise, that one. I’m a little miffed that this house is the only one within view with the American flag on display today. What the fuck is wrong with people? Don’t they know it’s a holiday? Or, worse, don’t they realize that we are enjoying life right now because of past honor, sacrifice and service? Fuck. Come on, people... Pull your collective heads out of your collective asses, please. Try to appreciate those who gave their lives so that we can be free. /rant I bought lunch for the two guys who are building the shed. They didn’t have anything with them, so I did the nice thing and had lunch delivered. That time has come and gone, and the shed work continues. One of them is applying the roof shingles and the other is installing the door. Everything looks really nice thus far. I don’t know how much time is required for the job to be finished, but I will be capturing images and taking a look every now and then throughout the afternoon. The remote shutter release has been working beautifully. Holy shit, there is a reason I refer to Jamie as the goddess of the universe. Wow. Even when her character has a shit attitude, she is still head and shoulders above the rest. In the audio industry (or what I used to do... RF calibration), she would be known as a ‘reference standard’; the actual reference against which everything else in the world is compared. The NIST might not agree, but I already know the truth. Don’t even get me fucking started on the topic of defense electronics. Just trust me... I love her so deeply that there is chronic, endless pain in my heart. Tuesday is here, all sunny and quiet. I need some of this after the past week’s activities and shed installation. I can take my time and care for some housework today, add a few items to the new shed (mostly things that have been waiting until its completion), and then spend time considering other options for my free time. I actually have the house to myself for the first time in more than a week, considering the trip and vacation. The house is all mine and I fully intend to make improvements now that the big project is out of the way. To that end, the work yesterday went very well from beginning to end, and I am very pleased to have that space available for storage now and an extra living space in the future. During the late afternoon yesterday, I began moving some items and two shelving units to the shed prior to making dinner. I’ll be continuing today with even more time because dinner will be in the slow cooker. The last of the coffee is here next to me. I’ll begin some laundry and organization very soon. I need to keep busy because the other essay – not to mention the fact that I’ve been considering writing yet another just to vent my feelings about the damaging dreams – is pushing at my consciousness this morning. There is plenty enough to keep me busy, so perhaps I can shove the bad shit away today and come out the other side ok. Sometimes Mary DeAngelis resembles Disney’s Ursula, and not in a good way. Heh. Whenever Mary has a severe expression on her face, Ursula comes to mind. She is fucking scary. Anyway, I’m going to take care of business a bit earlier than usual today, including lunch, and then consider longer-term changes thanks to the shed. I also need to contact my buddy the contractor to learn of the time frame for a roof and patio cover estimate. Here I sit a few hours later with my fat cocktail and some work out of the way. The laundry has been running all morning, meaning there is not much left to do on that front. Once lunch is out of the way, I’m going to see what can be moved into the shed. I have to focus upon the house first, and then the garage will change later. I’d like to create enough space for the car to fit again. Along those lines, I must consider the configuration of the shed so as to avoid making anything difficult to access. I’d like to maintain order out there. Ah, shit... The song that plays in the background during a scene within this episode and again over the end credits is fucking horrible. Ugh. Whatever. And there is the goddess of the universe again. I don’t know what sort of power (or anything else) dictated her appearance and mannerisms, but when I see her face my heart melts into a puddle of goo, much like when Andrea smiled at me so many years ago. I can’t forget that woman because she represented the lion’s share of my desires in life. As for the other one, the lovely Jamie, my feelings don’t matter in the least. She is not real. Frozen in time, a la Jolaimora. Maybe I should switch programs so Nora will eventually appear. Or, conversely, maybe I should avoid allowing myself to see any one of the three that make up the name I created. Everything is just shit right now. No savior; no nothing."
The Savior Intermission
Mature content No. 413 Published May 29th, 2024 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Between the aspects of life that have disappeared and how different everything in the world is now compared to three-plus decades ago, this type of mood during a typical mid-afternoon is not surprising at all. I am beyond stuck today. At least all of the normal daily stuff is out of the way. I guess that’s better than the opposite. My brain has been going back in time over and over, the result typically being sadness and anger due to everything that is gone. Early this morning I was again reminded of the purity and its dramatic effects upon my psyche, mostly due to my suspicion that it is fading, possibly becoming permanent sooner than I could have predicted years ago. To say that I do not like the idea is a gross understatement. I must also point out that going back in time not only creates a deep sense of loss, but it also relates to the purity. I’ve been reminiscing while watching the second series and remembering the way the world was back then is very fucking depressing. These late days know little happiness, if any at all. Being reminded of the purity and how it often dominates my thoughts is as depressing as recalling the time when I first watched some of those episodes... The glowing years continue to increase in importance and have collectively become the single most rewarding period of my life, hands down. Not everything was glowing, yet compared to the present, the problems that arose back then now appear minuscule in comparison to the condition of my head and heart. ‘Deeper I go, deeper down. Didn’t think it could get any blacker.’ Yep. His words are more connected to me now than years ago when I first heard them. Each day finds me realizing less and less reason to continue doing whatever the fuck it is I’ve been doing for the last four years. Pathetic, but not my fault. And just because I have all but given up does not mean I am any weaker or less capable than prior to the loss of everything. I can still accomplish anything to which I put my mind. The problem is those two shit situations combined with the recent recollection of a third party and her very harmful remark (while smiling, I might add). Very little of what I’ve been going through is my fucking fault. Losing the purity and being reminded of what it once represented is a byproduct of the way I think. Along such a line, the purity is not only one of the largest points of contention in existence, but also something directly related to both shit situations. BOTH. I may be inadequate to the task of rising above this situation. I shall go through the motions and see how I feel coming out the other side. All my stuff is finished. I have not approached the mural today because I ended up burnt out yesterday and need to think about how I should proceed. Tuesday is here regardless of how painful the passage of time has become. Sandra and her big, round breasts are gracing the screen from time to time, effectively reducing my mental abilities to the minimum. Marvelous. Anyway, aside from all saving throws and the thrall of beauty, my day has progressed enough to allow for a cocktail break and some thinking, Sandra’s amazing chest notwithstanding. My routine is out of the way and I have a bit of a plan for the early afternoon. At some point I need to pick up a few things from the cleaners and then grab a set of paintbrushes from the hardware store on the return trip. No big deal. Ah... One of my namesakes is about to be uttered within the show. NIce. The name was an alias way back during the cave period, and used while I was still active in a few chat rooms. The Internet handle was unique, for sure, and often caused others to ask of the genesis. I may adopt a domain name or two that represent my feelings for that humorous moniker. On other fronts, I’ve not been motivated enough to continue the mural because the details are painstakingly difficult and very slow to progress. I’ll get to it sooner or later. Maybe I’ll feel motivated after lunch. I need 'her' to 'save' me. She is my savior. Well, she could be. Oh, boy. I don’t need some of the pressure that goes along with always being as people have expected. I really don’t need my fucking neighbor’s expectations all rolled up and launched at me like a missile, nor do I want to answer any more God damned questions about any fucking subject on earth. I’m fucking sick of it. Ignoring certain individuals might prove the only way to proceed. Hopefully, they will get the point. I’ve spent years rolling around this town and repairing so much shit that I’ve lost count. No more of this, damn it. No more. Wednesday. Later than usual. The daily routine is finished and laundry is running. I went to the big store this morning and secured a new kitchen faucet because the old one has been irritating the hell out of me every time I need to spray the sink. I already installed the new unit and it’s working very well. As for the shopping, my trip came and went without problems. Cocktail hour arrived while I installed the faucet, as well, meaning I can relax for a while and consider options for the rest of the day. I will probably head to the garage after lunch and do more painting and layout on the mural. As of yesterday, the upper sections are finished. I’d like to go over the black lines with a fine brush so they blend in with the rest of the image. At that point, I’ll have to begin the painstaking process of outlining the lower section. Last night may have been the last time the car can park inside the garage until after the shed is installed. I need the space for everything that has been piling, plus the furniture will be arriving sometime Friday afternoon and it is too large to keep out of the way so the car can fit without restriction. Very bad. I have all of Thursday to myself – only a possible, short trip to the smaller market may take place – and sitting here this morning is already a chore. A trial, really. The most difficult aspect of living lately has begun to overshadow everything else. The other crap I’ve been working on is losing importance, and I am speaking of feelings that came up just a few hours ago. Yes, the fucking subconscious again... It hit me with a dream involving a very kind person – one of whom I asked a question critical to my ability to live – who tried to help a little bit until I realized the entire scene was a very bad idea and left me in a horrible light. In the beginning it was amazement when I first asked her to help with an opinion, but afterward I knew something was either already wrong or would be heading in a downward direction very soon. She did help, though. The woman was very kind to me. Her assurance that my condition was ‘good’ helped to lift me for a few seconds until I realized that none of it mattered in the grand scheme of life. Upon awakening, my head descended further than in recent memory. It is still in the black at this very moment. I have my coffee and one of my favorite programs running, all the time in the world to do whatever seems best today, an item arriving in the mail later that will probably put a smile on my face for a little while, yet even with all those positives, I know none of it really makes any difference in my life. Reality will intrude and leave me empty, lost and very sad regardless of the little things that historically boosted me on a given day. This situation hurts more than anything else in the world and I don’t know how to deal with it so I can function like a real grown-up type of person. I don’t know if ‘things’ should be different right now or not. Maybe this condition was predetermined long ago. There is simply no way to be certain of any of it. I have to go through the motions, however, and in doing so perhaps I can find a measure of distraction from all this sadness. I wish the world was different. Just a little bit, too. Nothing dramatic. The more upset I become lately, the more chance that I’ll spend some money on something that can lift me for a little while. I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now, though. I don’t know much of anything, really. I have to sit here and fucking lump it. The woman in the dream with whom I spoke was unlike the typical faces I’ve seen in the past. Quite different, honestly, and her appearance may have been influenced by a couple of movies I’ve watched in recent days. The process could be something else, though, and I’ll probably never know the truth, nor will I know who she was. My questions have remained unanswered for far too long to allow me to trust a fucking thing in this backward world, people included. No answers, as I’ve mused for nearly two decades. The shit below in a different color is from zero-nine and was generated when I began to see that my life was going to go nowhere for the duration.
Not real
‘She is above Carmen, Jennifer, the other Jennifer, and the one who shall remain unnamed in these writings. She is, quite literally, above all. I have not seen her face on the television or elsewhere for several weeks and now I catch a glimpse in the finest of clarity. God damn, she is beautiful. Her eyes just go on forever and I long to swim in their gaze. Two limpid pools of tootsie roll brown surrounded by fluttering eyelids and tanned skin the likes of which I cannot understand. She confuses my senses enough to circumvent the procedures of life. All other challenges are simplified and any puzzle is minimized when placed against her dynamic and powerful pull on my reasoning. I can no longer function properly once her vision is glanced. She is incredible and I am losing control. Fuck. Why must I see her when my place in the world is defensive? Can I not get through a troublesome day and evening without the sight of her derailing my thought process? Does this mean I have yet another reason to look into my grave? Will that help me forget my place in the world and the realization that she is on a level I will never understand? My present state of mind cannot handle another draw in the near future. Not at all. I just cannot fucking work with anything else right now. My weekend has been trying in the most dramatic sense and a vision of her is counter productive to the nth degree. Oh god, what a fucking sight. After a decent gathering in honor of the big game and associated festivities, I am spent. Full of rum yet again and full of thoughts indecent I will remain for the night. Thoughts in the gutter, in the grave, into the future, and into my own past. I am reflective and regretful. This is a bad time. Such a bad period. I am annoying, defending of my suicidal nature, vocal of my dislikes, and so very negative and full of shame. I am shameful in the extreme. I cannot sit and think of how I must look to anyone outside my own drowned brain. My distilled and pickled thoughts are the worst right now. Fear is tremendous and my worry is in the red. Consideration of my end is appealing and I am constantly wishing for the grave. The grave represents the exit from feeling. Feeling equals misery.’
Was the woman in the dream my savior? Like the images, she is not real. Splendid. I’ve been functioning every day for the sole purpose of helping other people for so long that I don’t even know how to live any other way. That’s the reason I effectively shut down one neighbor last week. I’m tired of it. No one understands my behavior lately because I will not fucking communicate clearly exactly what has been going through my head. First, I need not burden others with this shit, and second, the type of understanding and help I need just is not going to come along. The more time that passes, the worse I become, and the less chance of understanding there can be. Less and less, day by day. I am still helping certain individuals, too, and mostly to continue keeping the little parts of my life in place that I can still (somewhat) enjoy. Not everything, mind you, but some. The dream this morning has once again derailed the fucking title, too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get around to such a topic. The arrival of my item in the mail later will provide temporary distraction, just as the shed in less than two weeks. The mural work has the ability to send me into the forest for a little while until everything comes back and delivers me all tidy and neat into a pit of blackness. The tertiary processes that boost me for a little while always come to an end and leave me worse off than before. Matter of time. I wish I could again speak to that woman from the dream this morning. Maybe she could have helped. The question I posed to her was so deeply personal and potentially damaging that I still can’t believe I asked at all. Needs have outnumbered moments of comfort. The dream is nothing more than a reminder that my life has been over for quite some time and I am floating along toward the grave; a railroad track with no turns. At some point I have to do my housework. Done. Cocktail time, mostly due to the morning being a complete disaster. The item for which I had been waiting has arrived and exceeds my expectations. Hopefully, I can ride this wave for a long while. Anything that can lift me from the blackened morning is welcomed. And, um... Alcohol, too. The love of my life is on the right-hand display again, and such a statement is indicative of just how far out of balance I have become. Did I already point that out? Many times. I keep saying the same things over and over and over. This is what I’ve become due to the routing, squishing and disregarding which has continued for more than thirty years. No one takes me seriously anymore. Maybe they never did. I wish I knew why. I don’t know which would be better, a high-priced call girl or an expensive therapist. Both rolled into one may be the best option. Does she exist? My day will proceed very slowly from now until dinner time – I can’t seem to get the idea of ‘her’ out of my brain for very long – because I just don’t care about going above and beyond the norm. I’m going to work on the mural in a little while with the music of life playing quietly in the background. As for the garage, well... Do not approach. If people only realized how I REALLY think these days. Holy shit. Believe me... You don’t want to know. Trust the words. I have little reason to falsify myself anymore. There are thoughts and dreams inside my head that MUST remain as such or people will take issue with the way I see everything. Very bad. At least I am already accustomed to keeping everything bottled inside (a strong compression; my distortion shows obsession). The way I view the world and other people has changed dramatically since the first damaging dream. Moreover, I saw little reason to try censoring my thoughts regarding beauty, meaning even more work is involved in holding my tongue during certain very specific situations. The mural has nothing to do with beauty. It is a process that I am hoping leads to some help. That is that. I’ll work a bit more if the mood strikes. Friday morning... Coffee. I am awaiting the arrival of my furniture from the valley. It should be here after eleven or so, perhaps later. I don’t have much to do as far as the routine is concerned because dinner was very simple and I took care of the entire floor yesterday. I will probably move a few items around in the spare bedroom in order to rework that section of flooring for later use. I need to try extracting yesterday’s mood and loss from my brain before I do bad things today. The painting will probably help, so once I get away from this crap, I’ll care for the housework and then head in other directions. Very exciting. There is Jamie again, not long before her nineteenth birthday. Even back then her eyes drew me like a gun. Little did I know that years later I’d fall head over heels for that girl. Unbelievable, but then again not really. Basket case. The unreal always smashes the shit out of reality. Blame the past. I received confirmation of the furniture pickup; less than an hour from now. I would imagine the movers will be here roughly two hours after that. I’ll have to take care of the routine and then head out there to move some things out of the way. The garage and spare bedroom will be a little out of order for the next week and a half until the shed is installed, but I don’t mind. The end result will be a tremendous improvement all the way around. I can wait; I’ve been waiting years for this type of installation. I am hoping the work will distract me from all the other shit that took hold of me yesterday prior to painting. I spent four hours on some detailed work and the image looks wonderful. Painting the lines is very tedious. Anyway, I have plenty to keep me busy today. I need to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s massive pitfall. A face; a slight smile; caring beyond comprehension. I don’t understand at all and continue to wrestle with such imagery. It makes me very sad. Jamie’s big tootsie-roll eyes are going to remain inside me today. Her windows know no equal, and that includes the rest of Jolaimora. Ugh. Ugh... Again. Everything is finished, the furniture is in the garage, I modified the spare bedroom in order to clean the floor prior to moving more stuff, and now I am tired. ‘It wasn’t my fault! How many FUCKING times do I have to say it?!’ – God bless the most beautiful woman ever to exist, even when her adorable character’s behavior and decisions were questionable. Just a thought. Still no title reference whatsoever. Perhaps this is simply the way of things. Doesn’t matter. The title has been changed yet again. I am searching for my savior. Ugh.
Saturday is going to be very mellow, I believe. I am still pretty tired from yesterday’s business and a little impromptu gathering in the garage. My mural project was the main topic, so I remained for a while and discussed the factors involved in having such a controversial symbol that large on display. The drive earlier this morning was quite smooth and sans incident. Being home with very little to do today is very nice (so far). My head has not gone sideways as of yet. The dream from the other morning has faded some, but I can still see her speaking to me, reacting and answering my question. Her eyes informed me of everything I needed to know. The purity may well be the worst aspect of life right now. Distractions are going to increase in importance, likely beyond any realistic ideas. Very soon I will not know what to do. Part of this feeling is due to something I saw yesterday that would have been better left unseen. I don’t need any more reminders of everything that is missing from this fucking life, least of all something like THAT right before my desperate, deviant eyes. Between the dream and the sights, I am going to lose my shit pretty soon. I’ll flip the fuck out. The way I live my life is very unhealthy and I know full well of such a fact. Something has to happen, but what? A darkened doorstep? A limousine carrying three women and a briefcase? Shit, that last one dates back so far that I can’t even remember. Thirty-five years? Jesus. Will something happen? Will I be able to connect with that one I keep seeing that drives me completely insane? No fucking way. She is not impossible per se, but the level of improbability is off the fucking scale. I may as well not even think about her in that way. Shit. Fuck. Wonderful. Nothing good is on my horizon. My attraction to that girl is a byproduct of so many fucking problematic factors that I don’t even know where to start. Shit on it. Later. The routine is finished and I have a cocktail next to me. Typical for this point in the day. ‘Again with the purity?’ ‘Yeah! Again with the purity!’ Early mornings are becoming something I fear when I go to bed at night. I recall dreams, but nothing specific. I was using a can opener or possibly working with someone else to construct a project with cans. I don’t fully recall because the purity reared its head and left me sad once again. One day soon, that topic will take over my consciousness and leave me for dead. I can’t do anything about this because the understanding is probably not ‘out there’ somewhere waiting for me. Or at least... Maybe theI need is there to ‘react’ to me. I need ‘her’. I keep seeing and feeling and wallowing; every day is the same at some point, be it sadness and reckless behavior during the mid-morning or anger in the afternoon. Every single fucking day turns to shit at one point or another, and now the purity is beginning to drive everything else into the fucking ground. There have been too many occasions when I learned that FINALLY everything was going to be ok, that I’d found the understanding, only to be awakened to the realization that a day has passed and I am worse than the previous occasion of the same. This morning feels just like that... Sad and knowing there is nothing left for me. I am tired of knowing all this shit and tired of constantly trying to find anything with the power to lift me for a little while. There is probably no end to such a situation, hence the creation of a construct that no one understands but me. I won’t spell it out, either. Today is Sunday and I have lots of business to attend; afterward there will be time to advance the project and maybe consider getting my camera equipment set up for Tuesday morning. I am looking more forward to arriving home after the drive than I am to going in the first place. Feeling that I need to get the hell out of here is a daily occurrence, but this little trip ain’t gonna cut the fucking mustard. When I say I want to go somewhere, I mean a decent road trip for fuck’s sake. Well, aside from those times when I acquire something small that later comes in the mail, I am just not going to get what I need (or want). In any case, ceasing my concern and heartache over the purity will require otherworldly power or some kind of miracle. Not likely. I have the whole day to myself and that will have to be good enough for now. This shit will fade soon and time will roll right over me like it always does. I could speak to my savior about the purity, but no one else. That means the likelihood of speaking is so remote that there is little point in considering such a wondrous and loving situation. Unbelievable. I was told recently that I’ve been saying the same things using different words at times. Didn’t I fucking point that out some years ago? Yes, I did. This is all I have... The machine and the keyboard combined are my therapist, so if I sound as if I’m going in circles, read more. I’ve said that many times, too. Repeating myself is a byproduct of having written more than 177,000 lines of code in less than four years. Try it yourself and see how your own process develops. I’ve railroaded information aplenty and will continue to do so until my death. I will also say that whenever I can’t make progress on my mental and emotional condition, I resort to describing my days or something special that crossed my vision because the process is nearly the most comforting aspect of my life that I have left. There you go. Write it down, roll up the paper, set it afire and then shove it in your ass. Criticizing my work here is akin to criticizing empty fucking space. ‘Arguing detectives (are) like making giant lamb stew... Everything go to pot.’ [sic] I might be completely finished communicating with other people save for a precious few that I must deal with in person. I just might be done with it. I am alone in two ways, and one of them is really nice. When I need to push back, I push hard. If the same thing occurs a second time, that’s the end of everything. Trust me. I don’t need any flap about this content. Shut the fuck up, everyone. The last of the coffee is next to me and Saundra’s gorgeous eyes are on the right-hand display, all dark and enticing. God bless that woman’s beauty. From there? Over to the Bing where Sean and Chris are being stupid fucking idiots for the first time. Those guys had plenty of ambition, but their underlying impatience and recklessness came to haunt them in the worst way. Anyway, the lack of a morning drive has left me with more free time today. I’ll be into the routine earlier than usual. There is Saundra again, this time in a sweater that frames her big, beautiful breasts in a way not often seen in the real world. Don’t even get me started with the other one... On the Vegas program. Jesus, she was amazing. Ugh. Those two women aren’t real, don’t matter, and exist only in the past and in my brain. Splendid. What I really need in this life are more reminders that I am losing grip on reality. Later. The routine is finished. I still have some organization to do, a bit of floor cleaning in the spare bedroom, and the garbage business. I’ll get around to everything after a short break with my fatass cocktail. Each time I head to the garage for anything, I add a few lines to the mural so I can nickel and dime the larger, more complex portions of the illustration. After lunch will probably be the best time for me to add ink outlines and paint to some of the overall image. Dinner will be very simple, meaning my time is open for as long as I’d like to spend out there on that huge mural. And I did just that... Some of the more detailed work is complete, mostly on the lower section. I still have lots to do. Monday is here, and now that the morning drive is out of the way – something which is a rarity for the first business day of the week – I have the entire day for whatever seems best. Right now, coffee time is still first on the list, along with a bit of research into driving halfway across the state tomorrow. Thursday morning, 0908, and I just took my first sip of coffee. Unbelievable. I forgot to pick up cream yesterday, figured I’d just get coffee up the street for the drive this morning, and then realized I had zero cash (that’s all they accept). So, I took off for the City with no coffee, watched one hell of a gorgeous Asian woman in super cute pants walk away from my car while parked, ended up in some ugly traffic thanks to a lane closure DURING THE MORNING COMMUTE TIME (who decided that?), and then returned to town and stopped at the market for some items. Pants... Right out of the gate. I couldn’t even articulate my sweatshirt because my brain immediately glued itself to her lines upon exiting the car. What a fucking beauty. After being out of town for a day and a half and having walked all over the place without any problems, I get slammed in the face closer to home. Orange pants. Lines of life. Could that beautiful woman have been my savior? Now there is nothing left but pain inside. Shopping. Home. Thank the maker. The museum visit and a bar afterward were the highlights of the trip. Amazing stuff followed by lots of relaxation. Three stops on the return drive meant that I did not fatigue much, although one stop was a big produce market on the highway and that place held one of the most wondrous sights I’ve seen in years. Again... She was Asian, most likely Chinese. Very young, too. I averted my eyes fairly quickly so as to avoid meeting her gaze in that small store. The damage was acute and still rings in my head nearly an entire day later. She had two features which tend to be extremely rare on an Asian woman, and both stood out to my distorted sense of vision and even more distorted way of thinking. By the time I exited the produce market, I had already gone around the world with that girl, all in my fucking head. I still can’t believe the sheer level of effort it took for me to avoid staring at her fucking chest and the way the sundress fit her slender frame. Jesus. There is something very wrong in the world. Very fucking wrong. I don’t need this shit anymore. The purity came to mind very early this morning, and when combined with much of what I have been seeing since yesterday – most notably the rare, exotic stunner at the store – my resulting mindset is pretty solidly suicidal, with bits and pieces awaiting the return of some normalcy after the trip. The coffee is helping with said normalcy, along with my program running on the right-hand display. Soon I’ll get into some laundry work and move some things around in the garage to further prepare for the shed’s arrival on Monday. Every single fucking step today is going to be followed by a pair of amazing breasts, long black hair, and a very thin sundress that I desperately needed to swallow. That was a very bad one, and not just due to my obsession. The damaging dreams came into play for reasons I can’t spell out here, and the combination of all that shit – with the aforementioned purity – is really taking its toll on me today. The housework had better hold me up for a while. I’ve been wondering how much longer I can sit here and speak about my feelings before some sort of change is forced upon me. Along with everything else today, I’ll try to consider the value of this shit. As an aside, I pulled the content from the production environment the other day with no plans to reverse the decision. That is one more thing on the plate for this day. The girl from yesterday filled me with more desire than anything in recent memory. The thoughts became savage and very difficult to reconcile. My words may become much more pointed and detailed, hence the decision to work offline only. Was the amazing Asian girl my savior? Was she real? Do my feelings fucking matter anymore?
Ok, the laundry has begun. I can’t seem to get the purity out of my mind this morning, and the biggest part of the problem is that I already know it’s an emotional situation and nothing else. After all these years, I should not be surprised at all. I will say in no uncertain terms that if the purity goes away, I’ll be dead very soon after such a realization. There will be nothing else powerful enough to hold me up anymore. Days like today, after being away from home for some time, should actually feel really good because this is the only place I can find comfort lately. The hotel was very luxurious and quiet, yet nothing is the same as being in my own space without concern for dealing with many other people. Any nice hotels notwithstanding, the fact is that each day which passes leaves me less and less able to truly be comfortable. The purity may end up the one factor that dictates the rest of my life. That is a very sad statement, but again, I am the product of time and circumstances, as I am sure many others are as well. Very sad, indeed. I will make my way through the rest of the morning and see how I feel later. Friday morning, post drive, and I am sitting here a full hour earlier than yesterday. Thank the maker. The girl is still bouncing her way through my brain, the purity is still the prime issue in my heart, and I am feeling quite angry over being made to feel such pain this late in life. Not everything is positive. The mural has more detail, outlining and paint. I finished all three loads of laundry yesterday and organized everything after being away. The problem continues to be the fact that no matter what I accomplish on a given day, the heartbreaking feelings come to me unimpeded and often. This is the true beginning of the end. I can’t handle things like some months ago. Even the tiniest detail will set me off and push further; harder than in the past. The Asian girl, for example, has produced so much turmoil inside me that I can barely go in any direction for five fucking minutes without picturing her shape. There was a very powerful need for me to see all of her. So powerful, in fact, that due to the impossibility of such a situation, I am seeing that the only way to alleviate the feelings is to die. Nothing else will push her out of my brain, and more importantly, nothing has the ability to satiate so much desire. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. I have this entire day to myself and the shed is arriving early next week, and all the while the positives of being here in control of my environment are shrinking. The points I made are huge positives in life. I don’t have to work anymore. That is a living situation for which I dreamed for decades, mostly during the last few years of working as a plumber. Here I sit after four years of being home and the feeling is the same – freedom from commuting and complying. But? My heart is fucking smashed to bits and hurts more right now than years ago. The advantage of finally living near the ocean and in a cooler climate than the previous decades is huge, but again... Heartbroken. I’ve been relegated; routed; squished, and none of it can be removed. These situations still occur from time to time, effectively reinforcing the idea that the past shaped all I can ever be; limits have been imposed and there is nothing I can do about them. Wait... What? Speak to someone? Who? A professional? Nope. I’ve already railroaded several and will do it again. Someone else, you say? Who? A friend? I only have acquaintances. The person in this house? Nope. Again... I can’t view anyone in terms of help because those I know are all a part of the problem. No one fucking listens or takes me seriously, anyway, so tell me the fucking point of even beginning such a process. Go for it. And then tell me that I am wrong to feel so much desire for that girl in the produce market. Try me. Today will move along like all the others, I guess. I need to take care of little things in preparation for the shed and other matters. Anything I can do that will ease the weight of my emotional condition will be helpful, and I plan to embrace every fucking second of it. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll probably head in some other direction for a little while and see how I feel. I still see her smiling while perusing the market. She was an enigma, and believe me when I say that I know precisely of what I speak after decades of scrutinizing beauty from every conceivable standpoint, angle, and opportunity to ‘see’ what I’ve needed. She was an enigma, for sure. Very, very rare due to a couple of points that I will refrain from stating here for reasons of good form. She was a person above all other concerns, and I loathe to be disrespectful. Oh, the odds of this being published in the future AND her reading it AND knowing she is the topic are beyond astronomical. Regardless, I can’t say anything harsh or add too many details. Just trust me... The girl was unique and I know enough in this life to be completely certain of such a fact. When I think of her, I believe there is more ‘need’ than ‘want’ at this point in time. ‘Need’ is beyond overwhelming these days. You don’t want to know the full extent of that word as related to this endless, pathetic search. I was there and will probably never be there again. All rails, roads and paths in life lead to the cemetery. I really need to be there, damn it. I also need to go back in time and speak to a few individuals in the language of violence. Neither is possible and here I sit for the thousandth time with zero options. This morning’s cocktail will be welcomed like a lover. Later. I am miserable. I cannot get the information, pain or the sight from the other day out of my head for more than a few seconds. I took care of the daily routine and performed some organization; she followed along at every step and I can’t think very well as a result. This is fucked up to the nth degree. The cocktail had better do its job of calming my head for a little while or something bad is going to happen. She may have been Japanese but I can’t be certain. I need so much fucking help that the grave is looking more and more like the only way out of this painful condition. I am hoping that my words do not become more pointed. I need to see her but don’t want to see anything ever again. Desperation is dangerous, but not for me. The danger is to others. Now that the morning work is finished, I’ll have to point myself in some fucking direction in order to remain somewhere closer to ‘balanced’. That may not exist anymore. Shit... I don’t know what the hell I am saying anymore. I’ve lost the damned title three times and have no idea where it went, hence all these stupid intermissions. I am in so much emotional pain that I can barely function right now. Maybe I should work on the mural and shut out the entire universe for a while. I’ll be just the same (if not worse), but at least I can push some feelings away for a little while. If I’m going to be miserable, I may as well try to create gaps in the misery. Otherwise, why continue living? What am I waiting for? My own enigma? Understanding? Answers? Eh... I have some of them already. The others are most unlikely. No enigma for me, only more of the same. Saturday coffee and streaming media are here with me. I have to go across town during the mid–afternoon for a birthday dinner, but other than that, the time is all mine like yesterday. Friday morning was very difficult and heart-wrenching and I am hoping the same type of situation does not have a chance to develop today. If I can get through seeing the goddess of the universe for a little while, there is hope that the day won’t head downhill anytime soon. Eh... Never mind. The morning is shit, my attitude toward everything is worsening, and I still have to get through the rest of the morning. One might believe that the advantages to this current living situation could outweigh the bad shit, but that is just not true much of the time. Emotional damage can’t be rectified by many aspects of daily life. Bandages always come off. I was trying to secure one this morning but to no avail. My situation is not improving. I suppose I’ll try to embrace my little devices for a while and see if they can help. God damn do I ever love that girl. She is at the top of a very long list of reasons I can no longer deal with reality. Big fucking surprise there, huh? Fuck you. The one who can save me is out there. She exists; I’ve seen the clues and examples of such caring and understanding. I have fucking seen it in spades, yet no matter where I look, she is not there. Or... Is she? There is no way to be certain because a connection is so improbable after all this time. I’ve seen eyes, too. Lots of them. I cannot know what is behind them for the same reason: So much time has passed since I was ‘there’ that I’ve become hypersensitized and more desperate than ever. That means any possibilities would most likely be destroyed through my behavior or words. That is not to say she does not exist, however. As I said, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen plenty and I fucking KNOW a savior is out there, somewhere. The evidence of such a person has been mounting for more years than I can recall right now. I’ve seen plenty, trust me. The last of the coffee is next to me and Jamie’s big doe eyes are on the screen. Shit. Whatever. At least I’m already accustomed to seeing that goddess over and over and I know when the key moments are going to come along within the narrative. Her eyes become so sweet that I need to run outside and repeatedly bash my head on the concrete until I lose consciousness. Not good. If ever I felt that I am weak, the realization comes along when I see Jamie. I know it’s bad for me but I can’t fucking help it anymore. What do I have in reality that can help? Booze? Painting? Typing? The answer is nothing. At some point I’ll take care of business this morning and then wrap the birthday presents. The time to leave is five hours away and I am already looking forward to returning home. Of all the places in the world, this house is the only place where I feel even remotely safe; somewhat protected (against what, exactly?). Dinner will come and go, I will arrive back home shortly thereafter, and then relax and consider the next couple of days. I received confirmation that the shed will be installed in two days. Why they are doing the work on a national holiday is beyond me, but whatever. I’ll take it. Tomorrow I need to move some things around in the backyard to prepare for their arrival, which I understand has been predicted for between eight and eleven in the morning. I will probably work toward that end today, as well. I need to find a way of extricating that fucking Asian enigma from my tired brain, too. Damn. I’ve not seen her like before, to be honest, and the memory is driving me up the wall. There was something about her face that informed me of certain personality aspects – of course, I could be dead wrong, yet the suspicion remains – which have been parts of my savior dream for a very long period of time. Her facial expressions and mannerisms told me quite a bit. The result of seeing all that shit is nothing more than pain and confusion. The mural, organization and shed had better hold me the fuck up or something bad is going to take place. Very bad, to be sure. I wish I could gush regarding what struck me about that fucking girl, but it’s best I leave the subject alone. No one will like it and the process will most likely push me further down.
The coffee is gone and half the routine is out of the way. I guess I’ll get to the other half soon, along with my little buddy, the typical morning cocktail. I made both salads yesterday, so there is very little I need to do prior to leaving this afternoon. Four hours. As I said before, I am already looking forward to returning home after dinner. I need to be here among my pathetic devices. Dinner was fine. Sunday is here. The drive was smooth and uneventful. I have the entire day for whatever is best. The shed arrives tomorrow morning (they gave me a window of time), so I’ll have to prepare the area and move a few things around today. I was up a little bit later than I should have but still drove this morning, and earlier than the norm. I’ll have to keep myself organized today because of the garbage work and incoming workers tomorrow morning. There was a very special sight that I am trying to reconcile right now. A scent, too. I can’t seem to get her out of my head because the situation caught me off-guard and left me almost bereft of words. The bra strap came to mind for the thousandth time and had me at sixes and sevens for quite some time. My feelings are on the edge of being controllable entirely too often. I don’t need any more reminders of emptiness and loss. Someone has to come along at some point and fucking save me. Everything into which I tend to dive in order to suppress the heartbreak will eventually run the fuck out, and then I’ll be in some real pretty shit. God damn, I can still see her... I see too much sometimes. The desire was so strong that I had to push pretty fucking hard to carry forward without faltering. Jesus. Rarely have I wanted something so badly. I was as fake and false as was humanly possible. Believe it. The outside of me no longer resembles who I have become. Anyway, so long as I can keep myself a little busy today, my head may be fine. I don’t want her breasts bouncing their way through my thoughts as I try to work. That would be very bad. The girl keeps coming back and haunting me every time I see the slightest resemblance in someone else. This is day four since I saw her and lost my mind. Predicting her exit from my daydreams is very difficult; seemingly impossible. I cannot know, however, because the desire – much like the other one and all those fucking dreams – is powerful and most of the time I am at the mercy of my obsession (and much more). I saw too much, like always, and that occasion continues to stand out among almost everything else I’ve seen. Her features were nearly too much for me to take. So fucking rare, that girl. A smile; a motion; my exploding head. Everything hit me hard and still lingers right behind my eyes. That little sundress is going to be the death of me. The other one? I can’t even get started with that shit because I am already far enough off my rocker. If people only knew what I’ve been thinking for these past couple of years... Holy Christ. Or worse? All that I’ve been imagining. Ooh-fa. Not good. Circumstances drove me to this shit. Believe it. Maybe I will place some of my thoughts into a new diary of sorts. Could that help? Will it help? I feel so alone and full of pain that I simply have to do something. The last of the coffee. I feel crappy this morning. Nothing physical, though. Just emotionally exhausted from trying to maintain the facade everyone already knows. I’m sick of this shit. I need her to save me. I need my savior. I fucking need her and my needs don’t matter anymore. Wonderful. The early evening is here. I finished all of the required preparations for the shed installation tomorrow and everything I typically do on a Sunday. Dinner will be leftovers. Very simple. Today is Monday; shed installation day. I moved everything yesterday and relocated my car this morning. All set. I don’t like three-hour windows for this type of thing, but whatever. The project will be finished soon enough. The flags are flying for the holiday, too. I like to hold the traditions as they felt way back when I was very young and during a period prior to becoming so fucking jaded that nothing seems appealing. National holidays push me to display the appropriate flags for respect, and today being Memorial day means the American flag is on its own right (per the federal flag code) and the POW-MIA flag is on the opposite side of the house. One on each corner for balance is the way I like it. Anyway, while waiting for the installation crew, I plan to tool around and take care of my usual chores and then move a few things around in the garage. The weather is overcast, but dry. Very good. I didn’t want any moisture on the concrete pad today. I am hoping the sun makes an appearance soon to warm the house. The hour is still early, although the window for their arrival is open. Now I just have to wait. At some point, I’ll go out and secure the side gate wide open so they have smooth access to the yard. The new gate can’t be used due to the top bridge and a tree right in the middle of the pathway. So, some time has passed and the shed is being constructed as I type these words. They arrived at roughly 0830, the time is now 1053 and the only things left are the roofing, windows and door. Unbelievable. They are very efficient, I must say. I provided some drinking water for them and will soon ask if they already have lunch in the truck. If not, I’m going to order food. I worked in construction for a very long time and understand that not every customer is nice, so I try to show my appreciation any way that I am able. For example, when the concrete pad was dug and formed, those guys were here in the sun all day. I provided tons of bottled water while they were working, and when they left, I sent each of the three with a case of beer because that’s the kind of customer I prefer to be. You never know if a call back will be necessary, so if everyone is happy, they will be more willing to help in the future. I’ve had my big camera out there on the tripod with a remote shutter release connected. I’ve been capturing images from the remote control all morning. I could have opted for time-interval shooting – which is completely automatic – but there have been long periods with not many visual changes. I’ll continue to grab a frame here and there as the work progresses. I can use the shutter release on the camera or the remote depending upon where I am for the shot. I fucking love my camera more than this control center, and that is saying quite a bit. The best part of this is not the shed finally coming to life, but the fact that this day has not crushed my feelings. Anything with the power to help me get through the hours comfortably is wholeheartedly welcomed. I also have a nice, fat cocktail for posterity. Big fucking surprise, that one. I’m a little miffed that this house is the only one within view with the American flag on display today. What the fuck is wrong with people? Don’t they know it’s a holiday? Or, worse, don’t they realize that we are enjoying life right now because of past honor, sacrifice and service? Fuck. Come on, people... Pull your collective heads out of your collective asses, please. Try to appreciate those who gave their lives so that we can be free. /rant I bought lunch for the two guys who are building the shed. They didn’t have anything with them, so I did the nice thing and had lunch delivered. That time has come and gone, and the shed work continues. One of them is applying the roof shingles and the other is installing the door. Everything looks really nice thus far. I don’t know how much time is required for the job to be finished, but I will be capturing images and taking a look every now and then throughout the afternoon. The remote shutter release has been working beautifully. Holy shit, there is a reason I refer to Jamie as the goddess of the universe. Wow. Even when her character has a shit attitude, she is still head and shoulders above the rest. In the audio industry (or what I used to do... RF calibration), she would be known as a ‘reference standard’; the actual reference against which everything else in the world is compared. The NIST might not agree, but I already know the truth. Don’t even get me fucking started on the topic of defense electronics. Just trust me... I love her so deeply that there is chronic, endless pain in my heart. Tuesday is here, all sunny and quiet. I need some of this after the past week’s activities and shed installation. I can take my time and care for some housework today, add a few items to the new shed (mostly things that have been waiting until its completion), and then spend time considering other options for my free time. I actually have the house to myself for the first time in more than a week, considering the trip and vacation. The house is all mine and I fully intend to make improvements now that the big project is out of the way. To that end, the work yesterday went very well from beginning to end, and I am very pleased to have that space available for storage now and an extra living space in the future. During the late afternoon yesterday, I began moving some items and two shelving units to the shed prior to making dinner. I’ll be continuing today with even more time because dinner will be in the slow cooker. The last of the coffee is here next to me. I’ll begin some laundry and organization very soon. I need to keep busy because the other essay – not to mention the fact that I’ve been considering writing yet another just to vent my feelings about the damaging dreams – is pushing at my consciousness this morning. There is plenty enough to keep me busy, so perhaps I can shove the bad shit away today and come out the other side ok. Sometimes Mary DeAngelis resembles Disney’s Ursula, and not in a good way. Heh. Whenever Mary has a severe expression on her face, Ursula comes to mind. She is fucking scary. Anyway, I’m going to take care of business a bit earlier than usual today, including lunch, and then consider longer-term changes thanks to the shed. I also need to contact my buddy the contractor to learn of the time frame for a roof and patio cover estimate. Here I sit a few hours later with my fat cocktail and some work out of the way. The laundry has been running all morning, meaning there is not much left to do on that front. Once lunch is out of the way, I’m going to see what can be moved into the shed. I have to focus upon the house first, and then the garage will change later. I’d like to create enough space for the car to fit again. Along those lines, I must consider the configuration of the shed so as to avoid making anything difficult to access. I’d like to maintain order out there. Ah, shit... The song that plays in the background during a scene within this episode and again over the end credits is fucking horrible. Ugh. Whatever. And there is the goddess of the universe again. I don’t know what sort of power (or anything else) dictated her appearance and mannerisms, but when I see her face my heart melts into a puddle of goo, much like when Andrea smiled at me so many years ago. I can’t forget that woman because she represented the lion’s share of my desires in life. As for the other one, the lovely Jamie, my feelings don’t matter in the least. She is not real. Frozen in time, a la Jolaimora. Maybe I should switch programs so Nora will eventually appear. Or, conversely, maybe I should avoid allowing myself to see any one of the three that make up the name I created. Everything is just shit right now. No savior; no nothing."
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