The Overpass

Mature content No. 396 Published January 3rd, 2024 9:21am pst read ( words) Past entries

"The crap keeps taking place regardless of whether or not I take issue with people during those situations. And when I do say something, they don’t seem to understand what has transpired and the negative effects such issues have on my mind. This type of thing is very bad for my ability to be patient with people because it dates back more years than I care to recall right now. I feel like a military officer that has been passed over for promotion throughout decades. Disregarded, too. I have never understood this shit and probably never will. Unfortunately, there seems to be little I can do to alter such behavior aside from avoiding people as often as possible. I am pretty damned isolated already and may need to push further in the near future. Until three days ago, people around here knew me as the person always in the garage with the door open. Now they can stare at the same door perpetually closed unless I specifically need the access from outside. In an effort to avoid being squished over and over, I shall heretofore remain out of contact with everyone. One fact that no one seems to see is that there are other factors at work here; several problems around which I cannot step. The purity, shit situations, and the nature of searching for someone who most likely does not exist have already irreparably damaged me, and to add the squishing will only make matters worse. I’ve been sitting here for several years trying to understand two very specific problems and still have not found clear answers. Being walked over and smashed time and again will cause even more anger. This is not good, yet what the hell can I do? I’ve already explained this shit in spades for a very long time. The options have narrowed to the point of being nearly nonexistent. Not good.

0848, December the 18th. This is the same morning as the end of the previous entry. Autumn Reeser is going to grace the right-hand display in less than ten minutes and cause me to fall further down. Splendid. But... Wouldn’t the smart choice be to avoid looking at her? Yep, that’s correct. I can’t avoid staring, however. Too many parts of life have already taken their toll. Autumn never tries to walk over anything I may be trying to say because she is not real. This is the way of things.

What the fuck do I do now? Go back to the idea of a machine? She is as impossible as everything else of which I’ve dreamed. Great. No options. If I were a camel, I’d be spitting all over the fucking place. Cornered equals danger. It is a matter of time.

1043. The routine is out of the way and I finished two loads of dry cleaning. Now I have the rest of the day and it will probably go bad at some point because I am so unhappy. The little enjoyments and devices are barely holding me up right now. Everything becomes a fucking problem. At present, the biggest problem is having been reminded of something very pure and natural, and then feeling the precious nature of it torn away and being left with the knowledge that NOTHING I SAY OR DO MATTERS IN THE LEAST. Marvelous. One of these days I need to get the fuck out of here and drive to beautiful places for a while. I’m going to be exactly the same regardless of whether or not I leave the house, so I may as well get the fuck out there and shove society to the rear for a little while. I want to gently kiss Candace’s labia for an entire day. Shut up. I am what time and circumstance have made me. No one can change it. Trust me... This is about as pleasant as I get. I could say more or go into excruciating detail. No one needs to hear that shit. Again... Shut the fuck up.

Tuesday. My head is fucked up. Dreams early this morning recalled the beautiful purity and the natural state of the world, and then everything was torn away in a split second. This is not helping what could be an otherwise very comfortable morning. I really don’t need any more reminders of the changes since nearly two years ago. I am not referring to the damaging dreams, either. No matter how hard I push against reality and try to relax myself, dreams are going to invade my sleep. There is nothing I can do about it and the typical result is a sad morning followed by an angry afternoon. I wish someone would tell me why this must be ‘the way of things’. The bottom line is I already know the answers do not exist, much like the oft-mentioned understanding. I flipped around the channels a little bit and ran across Molly again. I haven’t seen her in a very long time, but let me state straight out that the feelings I have for her cuteness have not diminished one iota. Jesus, that girl should get an award for being one of the cutest faces in existence. Damn. Well, back to the movie. I don’t need to sit here and imagine all sorts of situations that would bring happiness because nothing like that is going to fucking happen. Anyway, I can’t seem to get the primary dream out of my head right now. There was a bit of conversation and some beautiful visions, not the least of which was a mass of blonde hair (not typically my preference, but I’m opening up to the idea) along with a smile. This shit is going to kill me, sure as hell. I can’t take much more of the beauty and wonder being torn from me after knowing that the purity – along with several related factors – is going away as each day passes into history. The discussions from the short and long past are playing out inside my brain almost constantly as I attempt to reconcile myself with the idea that I have apparently not lost enough in life. Not yet. I haven’t plowed enough shit, felt enough pain or taken enough heat as of yet... According to something over which I have zero control. As I said... I really don’t need any more fucking reminders. They hurt too much. Thank you.

0817. I have an extended day due to a Christmas event (to which others were not invited), meaning this morning will probably be stretched out accordingly. I do need to visit the market a bit later, but overall my day is wide-open. The hours ahead are going to be very unpleasant if I can’t push away one of the dreams from earlier. I can’t fucking stand this shit. At least people are seeing my garage door closed every day, quite the opposite of the last few years. They can get used to this mood. The dream is exacerbating my need to isolate because I am having an increasingly difficult time being even remotely pleasant toward others. That is their problem, as well. I haven’t fucking squished myself, have I? Nope. Bad mood, right out of the gate. No one can be disrespectful if I am absent every day of the week. Very good.

The purity and beauty to which I refer are beginning to squish the squishing. I don’t even care if that makes any sense. More aspects of life disappearing are going to end up taking priority with regard to my daily mood and ability to cope with the simplest of tasks. I am heavily distracted almost constantly and holding up such a heavy facade is very difficult. I don’t need any more of this shit, yet what can be done about it? Not a damned thing. The purity will eventually be nothing more than a dream, and thanks to shit situation number one, when that time comes I will have no more reasons for living. Believe it. Years ago I mentioned that the dreams were going to kill me. Little did I know, but those were trivial in comparison.

Last of the coffee. I keep thinking of the fact that despite a mass of beauty in my dream this morning, there were no lines. The scene was quite different than what one might expect from my subconscious, however during a movie last night, I did catch one of the most striking views imaginable. I’ll have to go back to that one and capture her wondrous form for posterity. I am a basket case and I fucking know it.

0909. I need her so badly that words fail. I just fucking need her. Does she exist? All I get is Arina. Remember her? What a maroon. And I’ve lost track of the title, as usual. Shit. I want to go back to the netherworld and experience that year in the mountains with the lovely little Julie. I never thought I’d be wishing to visit that place again, especially considering the sheer number of occasions that found me dead after trying to go against the grain of Julia’s wishes. Whatever. I can’t go anywhere. I just have to fucking lump it.

I don’t know which is worse, a disastrous morning involving the giant reset button in the sky, or simply suffering through whatever is in mind. I am suffering either way, really, and perhaps one day I will calculate that one or the other is reason enough to die. Stick that in your fucking pipe and smoke it.

The time is now 1107 and I have all but decided not to leave the house. My daily crap is out of the way, too. This is normally when I would go in order to avoid too many people in the market, but today I already have a fat glass of whiskey and no intention of doing anything dramatic until it is consumed. I am so fucking depressed right now that I can’t see straight. The backspace key is overworked. Nothing is funny anymore.

I need so much yet have very little. And the series rotation is supposed to be three, four, two, five and then one, but when the second show was finished I switched to the first by mistake. The next rotation of my precious 695 hours of media will be correct. Oops. Those people are helping to keep me alive, for whatever that may be worth. I love them all so much that I can’t find the words. Wait a minute... I was speaking of everything that is missing inside me and in life. My situation is not improving at all, and this morning now stands as a testament to the fragility of my psyche after so many years of squishing, being disregarded, and shoved aside with regard to my needs as a human being. How long would you put up with that much shit? That’s what I thought. God help those who know and love me if a windfall comes along in the near future. I’ll be gone so fucking fast that their heads will spin without end. I would love to demonstrate my disdain and disappointment as I did in the past, too. I would absolutely love it. Don’t get me started. The only downside is that First Food & Bar no longer exists. Well, there is always something else available for comfort. I have no doubt that my penchant for locating and sinking into such lavish comfort would not fail in the least. I have a knack for such an atmosphere, the missing kitten or doll notwithstanding. They are all gone and it hurts so deeply that I cannot even begin to describe the feelings. Everyone is gone. Maybe I should have gone the way of the Raven eight years ago. Much could have been avoided.

Yesterday I finished relocating all of the wiring for the audio stack in the garage. It operates well. I may remove the decoder, though, because the component is unnecessary for stereo sound. As I sit in this fucking chair, I swear over time I’ll reconfigure the entire space to favor the audio rather than anything else. The process will take time, however. I don’t know how much time I have left, so the project may never be finished. Not in my lifetime, anyway.

'I see love, I can see passion
I feel danger, I feel obsession
Don't play games with the ones who love you
Cause I hear a voice who says
I love you, I'll kill you

Loneliness; I feel loneliness in my room

Look into the mirror of your soul
Love and hate are one in all
Sacrifice turns to revenge and believe me
You'll see the face who'll say,
I love you, I'll kill you,
But I'll love you forever

Loneliness; I feel loneliness in my room'

I am trying to embrace a military phrase by presenting the minimal aspect of myself to the world. The process has been difficult, but I am determined to alter the perception others have of me. I may have to work at it for a while because I am seeing more and more threat objectives – those moments when one person attempts to boost themselves by demeaning or disregarding someone else – as the days pass by. I can remain inside this little house until the end of life, yet there will inevitably be occasional days or nights which include some sort of visit. That is when I slam the wall up and ‘make nice’, as if everything is peachy. The current mood must be displayed at whatever cost. Other demonstrations will accompany my disdain for society in general, and certain people in particular. Today is Thursday. Meaningless. Well, aside from the fact that the bird is out of the freezer in preparation for Christmas in four days. Everything else is crap. Yesterday still hurts. The dream ruined my morning and had quite an effect upon the rest of the day. No matter which portion of time found me busy with housework, my head went back in time to her face almost constantly. I am not happy about this shit, either. The tiniest issue will affect me deeply and linger, sometimes for days on end. Kelly Hu is in the current movie but has been smashed to bits by Kalli, whom I’ve never seen before. What a fucking face. The eyes have it... Huge; dark; expressive. I could live in those fucking eyes. But I can’t. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING because I’ve been passed over for happiness. The dream showed me the opposite, hence this shitty mood again. The overpass has come to pass, as it were. I wish that was funny. Relegated; squished; disregarded. One of these days I’ll provide an object lesson.

In other matters, I’ll have to get off my ass when the coffee is gone and work around the house. I don’t have much to do, so perhaps I can try to pick up some stocking stuffers for Christmas. God damn, there she is again. Fuck me in a ditch. Anyway, I have no clue as to how the day will progress. Everything is affecting me too much for full concentration on tasks. Yesterday was pretty damned bad, I must say, and I am still reeling from the effects of that fucking dream. Much like while I was in Ashley’s apartment, the understanding was present, yet like every other occasion finding me where I needed to be, all of it disappeared and was replaced by reality. My housework today is going to be tough, but I can do it. The clocks are displaying 0924. Time rarely matters anymore.

I am surrounded by devices, but none of them make a difference, although they truthfully are nothing more than temporary distractions. There are moments when all of the bad fades. They take place each day. Eventually, though, it all comes back in force and makes me realize that my life has been over for some time. I can’t even get out of town for a while and relax in a pleasant locale. I can’t fucking do anything. I had thought that my camera, computers and other items might bring more joy than they have – the camera only providing such relief while on vacation somewhere – but the truth is money has yet to buy happiness. It can – make no mistake – however the sum required is tremendous. Now if that means larger distractions, so be it. I will not make the distinction because I’ve been in the middle of joy at times even though others continually contend that money does not have such power. To me? It most definitely does. Those who claim otherwise simply do not know how to fucking spend it. And don’t get me started on emotions. They can be manipulated more by money than anything else in the world. My stuff has held me up at times, too. I just feel less and less of it each day.

0940 and I am still sitting here because the drive to improve anything has left me again. Caring does not cost money, either. All I do is go through the motions and help other people. Passed over for everything else. Passed the fuck over. Overpass. What a nice fucking clambake. Anyway, I suppose I’ll move into the housework pretty soon and leave this alone for a little while. Regardless of my mental and emotional states, I still have responsibilities. I can’t stand the medicinal or charity commercials, but some of the others have such beautiful women that I have to stare. Time and circumstance, damn it. Ah, shit... There is Kalli again. Wow. Tongue... Nose. You know. Kelly continues to fade, whereas in the past she was way up the fucking line. Whatever. None of them are real, anyway. I may as well turn on something else.

Something bad is going to happen, and soon.

Well, the daily stuff didn’t take very long. Now I can relax with my horrible thoughts and a nice, fat cocktail. I wish that was funny. The time is now 1058 and aside from a load of dry cleaning, I have the rest of the day to myself. Dinner will be a simple affair. Torrey is in this movie. Curiously, my three favorite actors all resemble each other... Torrey, Bethany Joy, and Autumn. Big fucking surprise that I have the hots for all three of them. My problems are outweighing the positives. Not good, but then again, what is good these days? Beauty on the right-hand display? No. Beauty strolling by my window? No. Beauty out there in society? No. Lunch? That one lasts a few minutes and then my head is slammed with all the shit. I know what I need. I also know none of it is real. Perhaps I spoke too soon about this day being wide open. And Torrey’s rear is much larger than years ago. Her face more than makes up for it, though. The face is everything, believe it or not. Speaking of faces, there was just an ad on the display with a fucking stunning goddess of a face. This crap never stops and I know precisely why. Two shit situations have destroyed any chance of me finding what I need or connecting in a positive way. I’ve been squished aplenty, yet the real damage came about decades earlier. Clambake. Fuck this.

Friday, the 22nd of December. Coffee after strange dreams that I barely recall. I don’t know whether or not to be upset because everything is very blurry. I suppose I can take the high road and assume nothing bad transpired. Such an idea would help my morning to feel more comfortable. I don’t need more information inside helping me find the end of the road. I’d rather put that off a while.

Today means heading to the store for a little bit and the usual housework minus dry cleaning. Whatever has the power to extricate beauty from my brain will be embraced as much as possible because I am losing my fucking mind. There are holes inside me and all I can do about it is find parts of life which can make me forget for a time. That is all.

I am going to spit. And yes, that is a figure of speech. Presenting the minimal aspect seems to be working so far, however. I suppose that is a plus. I am still pissed off, though. The power to change my mood lies in the hands of others, meaning it may as well not exist at all. The alternate method for bringing me happiness is impossible. May as well not even bring that shit to light.

I split the audio stack in the garage yesterday because it was too tall and would have interfered with whatever I end up displaying on the wall. The bar banner is folded, the surfboard has been pulled from the ceiling, and I have open options for decorating those areas that are now empty. As of yet, I don’t know what to put up. There is a roughly twenty-five square foot space above my toolbox that can be used for whatever my mood dictates. It’s going to remain clear of things until I decide what to do. The twin stacks are much neater and I am pleased with the idea. I wish I could be pleased with other aspects of life, but such is what time and circumstance have made. Oh, and the overpass. Don’t forget that one. It represents one of the most difficult aspects of dealing with other people.

1101. Cocktail hour.

I had to dash down the coast – much like the days of yore when I made that trip twice each weekday – to drop off a few items. On the return drive, I stopped off at the drugstore to pick up stocking stuffers. I’ll probably still have to head to the larger store, though, because the selection this morning was quite limited. At least a few things are out of the way for the time being. My routine is finished and I have hours ahead for whatever seems best. The road was clear and the drive was smooth, although there was a downside in the form of one composition I chose to enjoy. The track brought me all the way back to aught three when the film premiered (yes, at the big, wondrous dome) and the blissful day I spent there waiting in line. I’ve gone over this several times already, yet the feelings seem to be growing as I age. The experience of that theatre is gone forever. Nothing left but memories, and lots of them. The trilogy in question stands as the best of all of the films I’ve seen at the dome, and I’ve been realizing that atop everything else that is gone (including pieces me my being), the times spent at that particular theater during three different eras were likely the best of my entire life. A film can only be experienced for the first time ONCE. That is it. If the occasion is not fully embraced and made to be an event, something beautiful and wonderful is lost forever. I will not apologize for being a purist, either. No fucking way. The only positive right now is my wide-open schedule. I have little else left in the world.

The site is offline for Christ-knows how long and it doesn’t matter.

I may never be in the forest. I’ve tried and failed on too many occasions to recall, and the more time that passes, the more I realize that I have not made enough true effort to be granted admission. This is a fucking sad state of affairs, I’ll tell you. Fucking sad to the nth. Trust me when I say that the overpass is directly related to entering the forest, and part of the reason I have been denied entry thus far is my reaction to others’ penchant for squishing, routing, and otherwise taking advantage of my kind, caring nature. That is all my fucking fault. Throughout the last few years of me gazing into that most important place, only the past week has found me pushing in the correct direction. I’ve been quite unpleasant toward one neighbor – forcing questions left unanswered and confused expressions – and must continue to do so without explicitly stating the reasons or being rude. The process is very difficult after decades of being the ‘nice’ guy. The simple truth may be that I will not be able to enter the forest until I am dead. Wait a minute... That’s backwards. I remember King Theodon stating (as he was about to die after a gallant battle), ‘I go to my fathers, in whose mighty company I shall now not feel ashamed’. There is no fucking way I can live up to that beautiful moment, but at least my ‘fathers’ were not kings. The forest after I die? I just don’t see it. Scratch that entire idea. The other simplicity is what I have already described, mainly the fact that I have been too nice for too many years and denied myself avenues made unavailable by the same. I went ‘that’ way instead of ‘this’ way. I only truly took the fucking left turn once. I feel like doing it right now, to be honest. The fact is I’ve allowed myself to become so mired in a very specific type of comfort to allow me any fucking flexibility in life. The forest knows as much. Ugh.

I may sit here all day. Who cares? Not a soul on earth.

I’m so fucking sick and tired of society and its mass of sheep. I watched others grow older and cease embracing anything ‘new’ along the way, and now I am following suit. There is a difference, thank the maker, because I experienced the older generations’ behavior and can work to remain silent during those moments when they did not. And by silent, I mean vocally. Typing does not count because no one can read my words anymore. Perhaps the fact that I let the hosting expire is a good thing. Now there are zero restrictions. Heh. Fuck it.

1211.

I’m trying to get something going for this evening so I can further the idea of altering the way I deal with other people. I have to set an example, to be honest, and spending a bit of time in the garage with the lights on might be the ideal method for setting a precedent. Hmm. I’m going to cast a few lines and see what develops. I am not a fisherman, but I can still toss lures. The plan may go bad and I don’t care. If it bears fruit, the evening could be rewarding on more than one level. My cocktail is gone and I am in the mood to break out a paddle and stir some shit.

Saturday morning. The drive was uneventful aside from grabbing some coffee on the way out of town. In a couple of hours, I need to head to the phone store for an exchange. The process should not require more than an hour or so. I’ll have to resist the temptation to slide into a cozy soft seat for some lunch and a nice drink or two. I always get the idea when on the other side of the hill. I don’t know how I am going to feel later this morning, though, so I can’t make any plans. I want to take care of business and then see what’s what.

Sunday is here; Christmas Eve. The drive early this morning was sans issues. I even swung into the market on the return trip to find the store nearly empty. Now I have the rest of the day to take care of my routine and a bit of cooking. The time is only 0910. When the coffee is gone, I’ll get to my housework. Since the garbage pickup was two days early this week, I don’t have such business today. The change is only for this week and next, yet it caught me off-guard because notice for any scheduling is mailed early in the year. The flier has been on the refrigerator since February and I have not checked anything since summer. My neighbor sent me a message the other night reminding me that the pickup was earlier than usual.

I am almost constantly analyzing what is ‘natural’ and the reason so many others can't sit still about such things. The conversations of yore come to mind almost every day and I often find myself wishing to go back to those moments just to experience the understanding of their words. Lots of time has passed, and after all this waiting and suffering, everything has boiled down to two conclusions. What was once natural is now either a punch line or conjecture. The enjoyment has been ripped away from something wonderful. I will avoid going into the purity of some aspects of life again. The truth is that I don’t know everything (my most important knowledge) about the circumstances. I only know that time runs in one direction. And then I am allowed a glimpse of purity, as if I need more reminders that my life is over. As I said before, I have no control over some aspects of living. Most, actually, and when that type of thing comes along, I become very sad and begin to miss the past. Prior to the purity and my subsequent discomfort, the evening held its fair share of reminders that my life ended sometime in the past and all I’ve been doing is treading water for whatever reason. Years of it. I don’t know what has kept me moving through each day after all this time. I’ve stated over and over that there can be no good on my horizon – phrasing it differently may be in order; ‘I can’t see anything good in the future’ – and the present continues to press me down. I see things that remind me of the purity, the past and when I was actually happy and not completely negative and cynical, and then I reach for little details in an attempt to regain some of the warm feelings from years ago. The more I see behind, the less I see ahead. I am not the type of person to simply accept certain truths, and no matter what that makes me, the point is everything hurts too much because of having lived grossly out of balance for so long. Yep... Routing, squishing, and the two shit situations have literally ruined me and are darkening the future more each day. The purity is a harsh reminder of who and where I was, as opposed to what I’ve become as a result of the rest. I am afraid of feeling the purity again. I am already so fucking sad that I can barely see straight. Being exposed to others and their ridiculous notions of joy and humor is often worse than what I just described. That’s a fucking horrible state of affairs.

Christmas day. This is the first morning in months that finds me with nowhere to drive and nothing to prepare. The free, quiet time is both good and bad. Watching my program last night reminded me that I’ve done very little and gone almost nowhere in a very long time, and combined with my already emotionally unstable condition, I can see more of the same in the coming days, the result being less reason to be in contact with other people. Avoiding others is a benefit for both, believe me. I can be quite unpleasant toward people, especially lately. I am so full of pain and need that the simplest of conversations or the lightest of platitudes only make me angry. I just can’t fucking deal with it like months ago because my mental state is much worse right now than it was as recently as last summer. All I do is try to go through the proper motions – everything that is expected of me – but the little reminders just keep forcing their way into my brain to derail clear thinking. I am much worse than I was months ago. Seeing something special, such as last night on the show, causes much more distress and turmoil than ever in my life. When the world piles on a reminder of purity and the natural state of things, well... One of these days I’ll put an end to it all. I don’t see any other way to continue without falling further into this pit of pain and desperation. From a life with limitless options, I am now reduced to only two, and one is to continue trying to fight my way out of a situation which has become an impossible conundrum. I can’t fucking stand this, sit here every fucking day completely alone, and am growing older at just enough of a rate to lose certain guarantees from just a few years ago. This is complete bullshit. When I say unstable, I mean it. I have no resources, so others are not at risk, just me. This will continue until I can take no more.

Believe me... You don’t want a description of what I saw last night (in spades) and the way I felt about such a vision. She may have caused my sleep hours to become very uncomfortable. I can’t know for sure, though. Problems seem to grow out of the clear, black sky these days. Just another notch. She was a notch.

Aside from today being the holiday, it is also Monday and subject to my typical housework and other responsibilities. I will care for things a little at a time today and work in the kitchen on and off until afternoon. Dinner will be about as simple as it was for Thanksgiving; the bird, potatoes, stuffing, gravy and a vegetable (salad, perhaps). The food preparation should prove to be a distraction from the pain I’ve been feeling since last night and again early this morning, so my plan is to spread out the work and make it last most of the day. My football game starts late this afternoon, so I’ll try to have dinner ready an hour prior to kickoff. I prefer the midday games, but the holidays always cause the schedule to weave all over the place.

I’ve lost my way with regard to the title. Maybe I should cease adding titles unless the entries are part of a series (or something of the like). I don’t know what to do. I am slowly losing grip on reality. Everything hurts me one way or another.

Taylor Cole literally appears in the exact same outfit throughout most of this movie. I don’t know why they did that.

0813. There have been some very pointed, specific issues taking place since early last year that I have not been able to fully define, the most difficult of which is on my mind on and off all day, every day. I am not kidding. Aside from beauty and the mass of desperation I feel all the time, the topic of this paragraph is far more troubling. Purity and what it represents are pretty fucking harsh, and believe it or not they relate somewhat to this new shit I have to deal with every damned day. And now that Taylor has finally appeared in a pair of jeans, I remember that her ass appears to be roughly the mass of a compact car. She is super cute, though. That’s the important part. The face. Ugh. Anyway, since my feelings don’t seem to matter in the least, the object lesson might be the only path into a certain future. I really hope people don’t question my mood – unstable, unsociable or otherwise – because they should already know part of what has been changing throughout the last few years. Or perhaps no one is intelligent or observant enough to realize anything. That would be fucking hilarious. If I can’t find a way to understand the recent alterations that have been plaguing me, something very bad will take place. That’s how I’ve been feeling.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know how or why I am sitting here right now. I may need to slam the situation for reasons of bad form. Maybe. This shit is killing me.

0914. The coffee is on its way out and I’ll need to take care of some business around the house very soon. The turkey preparations will begin at 1100 and I’d like to have the other stuff finished prior to tossing the bird into the oven. Last time I used a hairbrain seasoning mix and the drippings ended up way too salty. I am going to rectify the situation today. Bad gravy equals no fun. There must be an abundance of gravy, damn it. Anyway, this process is for naught, so perhaps the best idea is to walk away and do some housework. I am going to have to hide the fact that I am miserable and angry for the rest of the day. Doing so is something to which I am already accustomed, yet still an arduous endeavor. There is just no way around it anymore.

I’ve lost track of the days. Names, times, everything. Lost track. Yesterday I fell into a pit of nothingness and barely clawed my way out of it for a very short time prior to the evening beginning. I am finding less and less reason to do anything, be it housework or something more enjoyable. The devices are beginning to fail. The few aspects of life that I still truly enjoy are damaging me and I don’t know what to do about it. This situation is becoming unbearable at times. There is already a massive problem inside me every day. I really don’t need this shit on top of the rest. My bad mood will soon become permanent. Moreover, the two programs I’ve been watching on and off these past few weeks are succeeding in cramming my consciousness full of memories; between the glowing years and the phase lock period, I am close to losing my shit with regard to how generic and pathetic everything in the world has become. I have to fight against the feelings. Much effort. I even began watching a movie about the development and release of a device which came about during the afterglow (the phase lock period again) and was brought into the past with force. The more those types of situations occur, the further from reality I wish to live. Not good. As I mentioned above, the dates and times when I sit here and write are no longer important. Some information is fine if I’m feeling it, but the overall theme here does not require timestamps. Whatever. I can’t remember many important details about life anyway. The unidirectional nature of the time continuum does not allow me to be happy anymore. Happiness already took place in this life and I guess my allotment has been depleted. Marvelous. I never even found another ice skate ornament. Very sad.

There is that actor again who resembles my friend. God damn is that woman ever scary. The friend; not the actor. Gorgeous beyond belief, but frightening beyond words. She is a spitfire; loose cannon at times, and in the past when I was near her I always tried to remain neutral with regard to whatever may have been taking place at the time. All I wanted to do was marvel at her height, exaggerated facial features, and those fucking dark eyes. Beautiful. Her long, wavy flowing hair was enough to drive me out of my mind. Oh, well... I’ll probably never see her again and that is just fine. Still, the resemblance is uncanny and I didn’t think about it until a character change during the fourth season of the series I follow from time to time. A few years ago, I almost landed a job at her place of work, believe it or not. After being dissatisfied with such a physical career, I was desperate to get out of construction and into some kind of office atmosphere. Had that gone through, I probably would not have lasted long. I have a hell of a hard time around that many people, not to mention the idea of working in an office environment and all of the other possible torments that would be strolling to and fro each day. The beauty in question would have been the beginning, too. Anyway... The resemblance between those two women is unreal.

I don’t know where this day is going to lead. The past continues to derail my attempts to think, plus I am caring less and less each day about what is accomplished while I am home alone. I’ve turned into something unrecognizable when compared to a few years ago. This situation was probably inevitable due to being deeply depressed for a very long time. A change is necessary, yet I don’t know if I am able. Nothing seems to matter anymore. Only the little enjoyments carry me along. When they fail to do their job, well... Bad.

I suppose the time has arrived for more downsizing. I had a really good head start earlier this year, yet something always gets in the way – often a bunch of crap moving into the house or garage as opposed to things exiting. The audio cabinet has been living in the garage for days because I don’t know what to do with it. I’d prefer to relocate all of the components into the cabinet and actually use it, but there is no more floor space available for such a large piece of furniture. It’s a black monolith with smoked glass on the front. These days, no one seems to embrace analog audio, so the idea of selling or giving it away to a person in need seems nil. I will not move it back into the hallway, though. That open space is very nice and makes cleaning the floor much easier. I honestly don’t have the first damned clue as to where it can live. Another option is to cut it into small pieces and toss them into the trash each week until the entire cabinet is gone, yet my heart is so wrapped around analog audio that doing so would likely break my heart. I can’t have that right now. The wheels allow me to roll it out of the way when I need the laundry area, meaning dealing with the garage space is not terribly difficult. I need to think about it for a while. As for the office, the motivation to improve my favorite space has been waning lately and everything just sits here, unattended. I have to do something dramatic; a big change which yields more storage, but I don’t know where to begin. Perhaps the fatass cocktail next to me will enable some creative thinking. Either that, or I’ll fall off a cliff again and accomplish nothing between this morning and the afternoon. The new year is just five days away, and such a fact is pushing me to improve... Something. As of yet, the only upside to this day is the fact that I tried out my new steam mop on the kitchen floor and it is very effective and easy to use. Who would have thought that a boost in my life would come in the form of a cleaning appliance? My life is pathetic.

The three images (short videos, really) displayed within this entry are very damaging, much like the dreams that will not leave my head alone, yet I have included them regardless of being in pain all the fucking time. Why? Because I don’t know what else to do. The dreams are not only while I sleep, either. Some have been with me since the eighties and are completely unrelated to beauty. The two television series to which I referred above have exacerbated my wishes to live in a home of my own design; one which embraces decor of the past as well as an analog audio system that follows suit (old). To this very moment, I dream of the ability to design and build a house that reflects my personality. Unfortunately, the last decade-plus has informed me that I will never see such an idea come to fruition. The combination of the shit situations from more than forty years ago and my having become overly obsessed with the female form pretty much rendered me without the drive and resources to make anything wondrous a reality. The place where I reside at this moment is to be the last. This is a very sad state of affairs, although I will take responsibility for a portion of what has crafted my life thus far. The overpass comprises the balance. Believe it. The beauty displayed here is a fucking symptom, nothing more. It has become pervasive because of being routed and squished for far too long. I will take the blame, but only part of it. I have been passed over in the worst conceivable way. Perhaps I’ve allowed myself to be too kind. Its own reward? Bullshit. Kindness has helped to destroy me.

I can’t follow my own train of thought. My head is derailed every fucking day.

The pleasant, comfortable ‘normalcy’ for which I have strived throughout years may not materialize this afternoon. I feel like flying the coop and causing those who know me to raise some very disquieting questions. Eh... I never do anything outside the mold of ‘everyday’ behavior.

Another day has disappeared and I am back from the morning drive plus a visit to the market. Once again, the remainder of the day is entirely up to me. Aside from the usual routine and some organization, I don’t have a clue as to what may be accomplished between now and the evening. I’ll probably run the new steam mop around the floor a bit, though. The appliance is very easy to use and saves me from cleaning the floor by hand. I’m going to order two extra pads for the machine so I can have at least one at the ready when the others need to be washed. For such an inexpensive cleaning tool, it really works well. I also need to work in this office because once again my drafting table has caught a ton of stuff that must go elsewhere. Lunch will be a simple affair – as will dinner – so there is plenty of time for whatever else seems best. Hopefully today does not end up like yesterday. I have to find my way through the hours without falling into a pit of despair. One might believe that between my video media and devices that there would always be plenty of distractions to keep my head occupied, but what is going on inside me is very powerful and more depressing than the time I spent alone during the year of eleven. That was fucking horrible, believe me.

1149, as if it matters. I successfully postponed the furniture relocation that was to take place tomorrow. Rain is forecasted, my back is out of sorts, and I began to experience anxiety over driving so far and being away from my sanctuary for too many hours in a single day. The person on the other end was very understanding and the operation is no longer a pressing matter. Very good. I needed the peace of mind that goes with knowing the next several days can be spent at home (aside from the holiday dinner on Monday, although that’s not a big deal). There is at least one person in the world that has not had a hand in building the fucking overpass for many years. One. Fortunately, the same person has my old furniture, meaning I need not worry about undue expansion of this massive issue. Torrey DeVitto is gracing the right-hand display, all dark and fucking stunning from head to toe, God bless her beauty. This movie has been on one television or another for three years now and she never loses her pull upon my senses. Good Christ, what I wouldn’t fucking give... Eh, never mind. Nothing I want matters anymore. Autumn is better looking, anyway, not to mention completely wrapped around my heart unlike most other actors. Anyway, I am pleased to have the time and space for relaxation and thinking. Believe me, there are many reasons for such a statement. I just need the fucking time. One of these days I’ll venture across the bay and facilitate the move.

Cocktail hour is here, thank the maker.

Torrey, Autumn and Bethany confuse the hell out of me sometimes. I need an image of all three side-by-side. Damn. That statement might send me into yet another Photoshop wormhole, but the problem must be addressed eventually.

Another day... Gone, never to return. That is good in at least one way, and what I mean by that is the overpass reared its ugly head once again. The evening was relaxing, and then I ventured to the garage for a break and ended up being partially sociable for a little while. Well, until realizing that the squishing was not going to end, that is. And then one massive shift in mood and I put the kibosh to the entire situation. I was squished badly, lashed out and took control – via a command to one person to sit their ass down, shut the fuck up and wait – and then stood back and virtually ignored everything and everyone, effectively focusing my attention upon the music and future thoughts for the garage. Not long after, I closed the garage and returned to the kitchen to make dinner. Honestly, I never should have been out there in the first place. That part was my fault. At least I raised my voice and grabbed the attention of three other people. They will probably not forget that one. I hope not, anyway. This type of thing has been occurring for far too long for me to just sit there and be a fucking stump without ears. It’s bullshit, and I won’t have any more of it. There will be four feet of snow on the driveway before I take one fucking person seriously or listen to anyone from this point forward. Last night quickly became a line in the sand; one which cannot be affected by anyone but me. I’ve had it. This morning I am actually proud of myself for lashing out in front of others, mostly because it represents the first occasion of me stopping the flow of conversation and making a serious point in an unpleasant manner. Maybe people will look at me differently.

I am not going to do much today because my back is still pretty fucked up. The software wormhole is done for the time being, too. I can’t deal with this serial number crap anymore today. Too many companies are abandoning purchased software in favor of forcing developers to subscribe to cloud services instead, the latter eventually surpassing the original purchase price for even the most expensive applications. For a small organization like this, subscribing is just not worthwhile. I guess if I want to perform complex image editing, I’ll have to go back to the laptop. After more than six years, I simply can’t locate the original install discs. What a fucking shame. The free applications work very well, but I’ve been fluent in Photoshop for many years, plus it includes two excellent tools for both organization and editing (individual images and batch processing). I guess no more of that for this little site.

Part of me is pleased with my reaction to being squished last night. I have to get the unpleasant ball rolling in order to create a pattern of success in dealing with people when they walk right over me. I can’t fucking stand such behavior after so many years, and trust me, this shit dates back more than thirty years. I will continue to present a minimal aspect. The alternative is the threat objective, and that is just not good for anyone. It is akin to the forest mindset, albeit not quite as serious.

Cocktail time. My usual crap is finished, and due to the holiday garbage pickup schedule, I need to get everything to the curb today. Rain is coming, too, along with a ton of wind, meaning I should hop to it and get everything to the street prior to the onslaught of weather. Right now, however, I need to be off my feet for a little while because my back is not cooperating. At least the daily routine is complete. I am into the third season of the first show, and one of the worst episodes of the entire franchise, although as someone said many years ago, ‘Trek is a little like sex; even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good’. I cannot disagree. Other than moving the containers to the curb, my garage shall remain closed for the duration. I don’t wish to be around others in general, and being subject to listening to them speak in particular. I’ve had it with being squished. I saw something wonderful during the evening – completely unrelated, of course – and the image is trying to monopolize my attention. I have to smash it to bits if this day is to head in a positive direction. I don’t want to end up overly angry. Well, more than usual, anyway.

Maybe I should get rid of everything I own save for the camera, computers and truck. Hmm. Can I? The truth is that many of the possessions from my past have lost importance. I tossed some things a few months ago and not only do I not recall what they were, but I’ve learned that I miss nothing. Perhaps going further is a good idea for streamlining my existence. Right now I just don’t fucking know. Very few ideas blow my skirt up these days. I mentioned being unpleasant toward someone, and I believe the process will help me enter the forest at a future date. Other than that, something cataclysmic would have to transpire in order for me to actually pay full attention to a given situation. I just don’t fucking care. Moreover, I believe this process has truly become the last bastion of human endeavor... For me.

If I find a less expensive hosting company with support for active server pages, how will I know if they will remain in business for a long time? Two such companies have gone to shit in the past. I wish to avoid any imperial entanglements, so any option has to be fully researched. I am not in the mood right now, though, so the project – and this more than twenty year old site – has to stay on the back burner. Fuck it. My writing will never cease. The only matter is when it will enjoy production again. I don’t care how long the site remains offline.

I have to find a way to achieve the forest mindset. Last night was a push toward such an end, yet I am still languishing within the fold of society. I simply must find a way.

I learned that the site content will be deleted on Monday. That’s fine. At some point I will find another host and move everything. For now, I don’t care.

No drive this morning. Very nice. I had thought I’d be in the car early today, but then learned otherwise. I am fairly pleased to have a quiet morning here at the control center. The shit is trying to take over my consciousness as I relax here, too. I have to push back almost constantly. This is no way to live.

‘So, what? No fuckin’ ziti now?’ Atta boy, Anthony.

I am already losing direction and it’s only 0944 in the morning. Not good. I am a little further down with each passing day. I really have no idea of how to change these processes. I keep remembering where I’ve been and the knowledge that I can never be there again, the resulting depression keeping me from moving forward in any aspect of life. I just miss too much and am missing far more. All those pieces to which I refer sometimes have been on my mind every fucking day, and as a result, the morning has been a controlled disaster thus far. I need to show Rachel Boston just how much I appreciate her unique appearance. Damn. Never me. I can’t hold a topic for very long anymore because I am constantly distracted by some beauty on the right-hand display. I began watching the gangsters earlier for the purpose of avoiding pitfalls. We shall see how long it lasts. I’ve already paused and then switched back to the Christmas movies, switched back, and then reversed myself twice. I have to see. Everything hurts me deeply, yet I still have to see. The beauty continues to hold the most power over me. I can’t do anything about it.

Rachel is so beautiful. Never me. NEVER ME. I was there. Now I am here.

The time is now 1149 and I am into the first fat cocktail for the day. My routine is finished and I packed up a few more items for storage. I don’t know if any of that stuff will ever see the light of day, but for the time being it must be retained. Jesus fucking Christ does Rachel ever have some long, slender legs. Ugh. Anyway, from here forward I don’t know what to do, although the idea of moving a few things around in my garage seems like a good idea once my drink is fully consumed. At some point, anyway. Again I am surrounded by devices and comforts, yet nothing really moves me like in the past.

One nice aspect of watching video media here on the control center is that I often kill the audio during commercials. Sometimes I go further and kill the stream, like a few seconds ago. I love seeing Rachel and the others, but silencing advertisements which are completely ridiculous is a wonderful feeling. I rarely follow along with the stories, anyway. Moreover, I received notice the other day that Prime Video will begin including limited advertisements within their media, with the option of eliminating them for three dollars a month. Yep... I already preordered the fucking ad-free plan because I can’t stand the commercials (especially drug ads). My other media of choice that is provided by either Max or Paramount is already ad-free. I will continue to embrace such media so long as the yearly cost remains less than half of what I was paying for cable television. There is nothing better than having viewing options up the wazoo, and considering I favor programs that are decades old, there should not be a problem moving into the future. The bottom line and worst case is I will buy the fucking discs of my five shows and avoid the fucking internet. I’d rather not, but you’d be surprised at what I can endure to enjoy a specific mood within this little house. As an aside, I only have a subscription to live television because of pro football. Once my team’s season ends, so does the subscription. Heh. I will turn it on again next September. There is no reason to pay for all those channels unless I can see live football and gorgeous faces within Christmas movies. Call me what you will. I don’t care.

Another day has passed into history. Gone. Was it a good one? Did anything make a difference? Did I do enough to feel like a person? Mysteries abound.

I don’t need to do my typical garbage business today due to the holiday schedule. That means we have a nine-day span between pickups. The delay shouldn’t be a problem at all for someone so detail oriented. I am far too careful to allow any issues to evolve regardless of scheduling. My game is on in just over an hour, too, meaning the morning stuff will have to be cut short for a while.

And now everything is finished, including some preparations for two salads that will go to dinner with us tomorrow. The game is over and went pretty well. The other game which dictated our status in the playoffs also went very well. I would not have thought such an outcome possible. This is the time of year when the fate of other teams affect the positioning of the higher-level teams in the postseason. Since everything is out of the way and I have a few hours to myself, it’s pizza time.

Another day has passed; the year has changed. This is very interesting because in the past I really did not like the second of January (or whichever day was the first of the new year). My entire life has been a push to arrive in fall without issue, and the first of the year represents the end of all of my favorite holidays, daylight hours, weather patterns and activities. Now? I really don’t care because my days do not change aside from maybe shopping or other necessities. I am here all the time and don’t need to go to work anymore. I don’t do much of anything, really. Yesterday I prepared part of dinner with the first series in the background and fell all over myself due to a woman in the third season. I’ve been nuts about her form for a few years now and typically lose my shit every time she graces the screen. There is something about her appearance that causes pain inside me. I become reckless and angry, too. Add to that the changing of the year and seeing people at parties and other celebrations. They are always full of brightness and hope; quite the reverse of me. I no longer dislike the outset of the year as I did in the past. Now I am simply angry and sad. Everything seems to be gone and I can’t fully describe the feelings this morning. At least I have hours ahead to think. Yesterday I realized that I have to do something dramatic. No idea of what that may be. A change, perhaps in the garage. I don’t know. The idea may be to wait until tomorrow when I have the day to myself. Today is a holiday.

I am still considering the ramifications of having been trampled the other night. That kind of shit really chaps me and dredges up all sorts of difficulties from the past. I haven’t said much about the way I feel when such situations arise because I really don’t even know where to fuckin’ start. That is the truth. The fucking issue is so deeply ingrained that my words seem weakened by time. I have yet to convey the full weight of how I feel about being squished in general, and the other night’s example in particular. I have to deal with it all the time and then something like the woman from last night comes along and forces me to realize that no matter what I may solve in the future, there is going to be another fucking problem waiting in the wings for the opportunity to be front and center. The image of her in motion was difficult primarily because – as I’ve said several times – I was there but will never be again. The understanding was there but will never be again. I was able to see what I needed but never will again. Sometimes I think that the issue of torment and pain resulting from what I see is worse than the other fucking thing... The overpass. I honestly don’t know, though, because they rise and fall like the fucking tide. I have yet to demonstrate the full weight of that evening in the garage. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll never do anything about this situation. I do not enjoy being made to feel unimportant (unless that is truly what I am and have been for all these years), and the first reaction the other night was anger. I basically stated – loud enough to disrupt everything – ‘sit your ass down and shut the fuck up until I am finished speaking’. There was a bit of flap; I was told that no one interrupted me. That didn’t last long, but again... Heading into the future, what do I change? Cease communicating with other people entirely? I have to deal with neighbors at times. There is no getting around it. Do I just keep everything to myself? That is difficult because I have always been a very pleasant person. Sociable. Funny. Kind. And that just expands all this shit... The second situation from four-plus decades back created some sensitivity in me that has been ridiculed for years. Due to that sensitivity, I tend to be very caring and helpful. Believe me, at my age and knowing people as I have, sensitivity can be a curse; it can weaken a person. The overpass may have come about because some sensed that I am this way and used it to their advantage. That’s quite a mouthful, yet I am running out of ideas as to how this shit came about. Maybe I simply appear weak to people. I could use some fucking help here.

The morning is quiet and peaceful. Hours from now we will cruise across town for dinner and New Year festivities before returning home again. This is one of those occasions that has wound its way into my heart. Moreover, tomorrow is the first business day of the year and I don’t have to do anything or go anywhere. I can sit here, sip coffee, watch my program, and see people going to work through my window. I need not do anything pressing. Still, as comfortable as I can be while here, I have to move forward with what I mentioned above. I have to change something dramatic. Considering how much crap is inside this house and garage, alterations can be very difficult. Something will come to mind, I suppose. One thing I’ve been realizing lately is that the overpass and those missing pieces often leave me completely paralyzed and unable to rise at all. Some of this shit is related, but not everything. The problem is that one situation leads to another and they affect each other to the point of rendering me helpless. Hence the fucking morning cocktails. I need to think, and the booze helps calm my nerves enough to assemble a few ideas. Well... Hopefully.

Today is a line in the sand, among other descriptors, and many use it to make changes in life or whatever. I don’t believe I’ll be changing anything unless I can come up with a plan to alter the way people view me, and such an idea may be completely impossible. Other parts of life don’t really matter much to me anymore, so making a change is unimportant. I don’t care. In addition, I refuse to be forced into changing myself when much of this shit was caused by others in the past. They are gone, so any restitution is no longer possible. I have very limited options, and just because the calendar has advanced to the next numbered year does not mean something magical is going to take place in life. This is a leap year, too, so at least there is an extra day before the year advances again.

The first day of a new year is not the one for changes, anyway. It is a day for considering the events of the previous year. Action day is the second (and hopefully beyond).

Here we go again. Two dreams this time, and less than three hours ago. I can still see her clutching my hand as she curls up to go to sleep. The poor thing hadn’t been feeling well, so as I tried to help her relax, she smiled and began to pull my hand closer to her chest for comfort. I could see the expression. Big smile. And we were elsewhere, too... In the house, I believe. She hugged me tightly and warmly, causing my head to blow up inside. I hope I don’t end up loving her. That never ends well for yours truly. It already happened with three others in the last few years, not to mention those from further back in time. This latest stuff is much more dramatic, dating back nearly two years to the first damaging dream. Well, chalk up two more dreams from early this morning. The total is at least five now. The way she looked at me; reacted to my presence (I am just a person, so such things were all inside her). I could see how she felt about me being there; I could feel her expression in my heart. All I wanted to do was hide away like some of those past trips to the goblet. Just disappear for all intents and purposes. The two of us in a place where there could be no interference, no distraction, and the time and space to be who we wished. That ethereal place; I know it well. There has been none such for almost nine years. I need it and her so badly after the latest dreams that here on the second day of the new year I am already completely derailed. Maybe I already love her. She has the power to alleviate all this pain over the fucking squishes. The overpass has been minimized a bit because of her beauty. Not a good start for this day. I doubt she is ‘her’, but no matter the odds or any other damaging factors, I am still searching. I need her more than ever. Fuck the overpass for right now. Today is Tuesday... Meaningless. Woe is me. I already miss being close to her so much that it hurts. What a ripoff. Those dreams will be the death of me. So unfair. My head is responsible, but at the same time it is not. I cannot explain this or anything else. I am too fucked up in the head. Pain; heat; shit. Felt; taken; plowed. You know. The second shit situation ensured that I would never find the ability to pursue the comfort and understanding that I need as a result. There is a fucking paradox for you. The dreams of her are beginning to hurt a little bit too much for me to think clearly during the day. I think I might actually love her now. All doubt is shrinking. The way she smiled while trying to pull me close is something I’ve needed to see and feel for so long that I don’t know how I’ve continued to draw breath without it. Nothing in this world can be more important anymore. At least I already know the outcome and can guard against it in advance, but despite my efforts in such directions, the dreams will probably continue to derail me just as I begin to rise from some other difficulty. There are so many problems inherent in living through a day that I am surprised – again – to be sitting here at all. I don’t know how I’ve held on.

I have to run some laundry today and take care of the usual housework. In and around that stuff I suppose I’ll try to remain as comfortable as possible. I don’t know what else to do right now. Jamie is on the right-hand display. More problems: Incoming. I need ‘her’.

I could have sworn I wrote something into this cloud last night while away from home (just to remember), yet nothing appeared here this morning. Damn.

Wednesday. The traffic this morning is considerably heavier than yesterday. I believe many people extended their holiday weekends by a day in order to ease back into a work/commute routine. I know I used to do the same, effectively delaying the inevitable sadness by a single day, although back then my situation was vastly different than the present. I don’t need to do anything I don’t feel most of the time, the occasional trip to some strange location being pretty much my only concern. Years ago I felt the pressure of the new year incoming all through December, and the second day represented the end of my favorite part of the year along with daylight hours on the rise. I really did not like it and usually had to scramble to find anything with the power to keep my head up until the next enjoyable outing or occasion. That was tough.

Jamie’s eyes appeared substantially larger when she was a teenager due to being so thin. Thank God she made it out of that difficult era and became healthier. I love her.

Another entry with a lost title. The overpass is still in mind, though. I think about it every day, although the power of beauty and those dreams combines more often and leaves me unable to analyze my feelings toward the way other people respond to me during conversations. As of yet, the only path that I can see that may lead to improvements and less squishing is to remain quiet when those moments come along. The idea is not easy to swallow, however, because I am intelligent and have wide-ranging experience in so many disciplines that I wouldn’t have a clue where to start. People just don’t listen to me and walk right over my words. Even the simplicity of typing those words makes me angry. Perhaps I’ve avoided the topic throughout this entry for that reason. I don’t know. Eh... Fuck it.

I suppose I just have to sit here and take it, much like everything else in life that has been caused by those two fucking situations. As the calendar progresses – something I consider at the beginning of every year – I recall that the first (worst) came to pass nearly forty-five years ago, and the consequences remained in the background until my age increased by quite a few years. Now it is at the forefront at some point every fucking day no matter what I may be doing or thinking. The shit takes over my being and I am left here, alone, to wonder what the future may hold. I suppose this is why the overpass is much easier to deal with much of the time.

I should probably secure some cloud hosting and get this shit published. Ugh.

End of line."