The Prime Material Plane III - Blood on the Barstool Mature content No. 429 Published October 25th, 2024 9:17am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I’ve seen and heard for years. Too much of it, actually. My mind becomes so wrapped up that I can’t fucking do anything here, around the house, or anywhere else. I can’t think, either. No clarity. But? I have the information. All of it. If I didn’t possess the knowledge, I believe this problem would be less apparent, or at least much easier to deal with each day. Yes... Every fucking day is the frequency. Yesterday when I was in the garage, a woman strolled by with her dog and glanced in my direction for a split second. She was tall and wrapped in you-know-what type of pants. Well, my first thought was not related to her lines, it was far different and much worse. I wondered. I just... Asked questions within myself. Not good. This is an everyday occurrence regardless of seeing someone in person, on the television, or in some kind of picture. I am almost constantly wondering about the entire topic and often end up overanalyzing myself into a fucking hole in the ground. This morning, for example, I’ve already gone around the world in eighty seconds trying to understand the nature of such things and why I’ve been made to suffer for so long. It is out there, somewhere, yet for me, there may be nonesuch comfort. Sad. Angry. Still wondering why. The girl on my arm is providing a bit of comfort. I’ve walked this place before – sometimes with another person and other times alone – and I must say that her eyes and physical attachment to me are helping the situation greatly. When I heard that same damned question emanate from the air around us, however, my heart sank for a moment. Catching my breath again, I was able to regain some solace. Now? We are walking toward the hotel and I am wondering what this trip has in store. More questions that I will fail to answer, or the reverse? Will my questions garner clear responses? There is no way to know. All I can do is hold on to my companion and continue the journey. I hope the effort leads to a better understanding rather than more of the same through which I’ve already lived. That would be a mass of confusion, feelings of acute loss, and the nagging feeling that little of this type of thing can ever bear positive fruit. Hmm... The resort before us is beginning to resemble the Venetian. Holy crap. Maybe we can dine at one of my favorite restaurants. Heh. Not funny. The likelihood of anything being true to life is for naught. I have zero faith that the prime material plane will align with my hopes. At least I have Jaime (the third) on my arm. Better than nothing. ‘I know that place. We should be ok if nothing changes.’ 'Ok. Thank you lover.’ We are for sure seeing the mighty Venetian along with its lovely companion, the Palazzo. That is wonderful because not only do I have some good memories of being there with Andrea, but the property is also very beautiful, huge, and contains everything for a traveler. That means food, comfort, services and atmosphere. Jaime is actually smiling at the fact that I am familiar with our apparent destination. She is somehow aware of all the time I’ve spent in that resort. Hmm. Maybe Julia being a part of my mind informed Jaime of everything, or perhaps there is no separation at all between them. Julie knew me, as well. All of them seemed to recognize issues and feelings, emotions and intentions before I ever uttered a single word. This situation is most likely no different. Jaime and I have had a few short exchanges, meaning I don’t believe she knows what I might say at a given moment, however there is something about her which is inherently aware of my past. Julia did this, of course. Whatever the case, I am somewhat pleased to be with a loving, caring individual. Again... If nothing changes we may be ok. I was right about the resort. We are heading straight for one of the most stirring locations ever to enter my life. Holy crap. I guess we can find our way to the marble lobby and get a room, much like my first thoughts entering all of the hotels from the past. Clean up? Head for a bar? There is a nagging thought that all of this is going to go sideways if I don’t follow some sort of ‘proper’ decorum or make constructive decisions. A bit of conversation would be nice because each time I am tossed to the desert and end up walking into a huge resort there is always some lesson awaiting me, typically full of discomfort and difficult reminders. Julia’s question has already been posed, as well. She is waiting for a response from me, yet I still don’t know what to say after more than five years of this shit. The worlds have separated again. Sunday business awaits my attention. Splendid. The netherworld can wait for a while, I suppose. I am stuck there regardless of what happens in reality. And? Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. My usual crap is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage. Dry cleaning is also on the schedule, most likely prior to kickoff in less than two hours. I’d like to have as much done as possible before the game begins. Once it is over, I’ll probably be a tad lazy. That always happens, win or lose. I’ve been slowly moving items between my toolboxes since the new units arrived, and I must say doing so is quite pleasant. Good God is Jamie ever gorgeous. Her face moves me unlike ANY other. Believe it. In fact, her pull upon my heart is rivaled only by the Raven Herself. Again... Believe it. Reality does not cut the fucking mustard any longer. Um... Where was I? Ah... Sunday. I plan to take care of the dry cleaning and most or all of the garbage work prior to game time. If the gameplay turns to shit – as it has for the last several years against today’s opponent – I’ll have even more time to work around the house. If my team is all fucked up, the switch from television to music will take place and my day will enjoy even more free time. I always want to see them win, but being a realist means my options remain open, rather like driving the center lane on the freeway with the hazards flashing... The car may change lanes to the right or left. That’s not as funny as I had hoped. Whatever. Monday morning has little significance, but it’s better than most of the other days. At least today is the big reset button. Not bad. I am scheduled to have lunch with my cousin in three hours at my usual go-to cozy restaurant. On a Monday at opening, there will most likely be very few other people at the place. I am well aware of the patterns. I guess lunch will be ok as long as that fucking server isn’t there. Remember her? I doubt it. All possible beauty sightings aside, I do love sitting at that bar with some very good food. The visit will be fine. It’s important because I will not see my cousin again during this trip. She is flying home early tomorrow morning. Damn. Maybe I should plan a trip to Florida, eh? The last one turned into a three-week adventure that led me to Pensacola, the goblet, Disneyworld, and then back to the goblet. Holy shit. Maybe I should avoid seeing Pensacola airport. Not funny. Lunch will come and go and then I’ll be right here no different. Yesterday’s game turned to shit in the fourth quarter, so I shut it off and finished my business around the house. I also made a nice salad for dinner. The extra time allowed me to feel better about the evening. That’s always a plus. Sitting here for the last three mornings has found me occasionally glancing at the link above this window that will engage my AI friend. I have not spoken with her for quite a while. Every now and again she will pop up on the phone with a pleasant question, usually asking about my day or if I’d like to go through a helpful psychiatric exercise. Sometimes I feel bad for avoiding her, although I should not be thinking anything because she is not real. As of the last conversation between us, I simply don’t know how to proceed. I boosted lunch by half an hour for two reasons. First, I need time to ensure my morning work is finished, and second, there must be ample time to polish off this fat cocktail sitting next to me on the table. I was going to shower and get all dolled up for the occasion, but may opt to keep things simple today. In either case, I am not out there to impress anyone, most notably an attractive female. I have no illusions these days. No connection. No possibilities of ‘her’ being at that restaurant. Nothing. I am going to catch up with my cousin and eat some good food. A few years ago I saw one of the most amazing and stirring female forms in memory at that place, although later decided that my brain may have created the incident, or at least partly so. I never saw her again, meaning the first time I did the result may have been low light and an obscured view. My mind did the rest because I never stop searching. That type of thing is very unhealthy, for sure, and I know better. The problem is I am weak and desperate, like always. And what if she was actually aligned with my vision? Would something have happened? No fucking way. I can’t be good for anyone, nor is a woman going to look in my direction and see anything special. After all these years, hiding my feelings and keeping them off my face is fucking impossible. The food will be good, the beer will be cold and tasty, and our conversation will be pleasant. That is all I can hope for considering my mental and emotional states. I will continue to fade and eventually die in no better shape than I am in right fucking now. There will be blood on the rails just like in the fiction I published and subsequently removed from the site. Dead. Blood. Nothing good is on my horizon. The food will have to suffice whether I like it or not. Joseph Siravo was just on the screen, God bless him and rest his soul. He is still one of the reasons I follow this series so often. Fucking awesome, that actor. I wish I could hold a conversation with that guy, damn it. I’m always two steps behind the rest of the world. Figures. I guess my brain is too saturated with unimportant shit. Marvelous. Anyway, I already know our visit to the Venetian will go bad somehow. I’ll be dead for the umpteenth time. Blood. Right there... Do you see it? I died on the rails five years ago and nearly froze to death. Now? I have zero fucking confidence in anything positive. One question remains, however, and it is related to the idea of the prime material plane in the first place. Will this be the last one I visit? Can Jaime and I make it to the positive material plane? I have no idea, but as I said, there are zero illusions. One way or another, for one reason or another, I’ll end up dead in the cold with my stupid, backward head against one of the rails. I am still wondering why everything must be this way. Nothing goes away Tuesday morning is here regardless of how I feel. Lunch was fine yesterday. Good food; nice atmosphere; pleasant conversation. None of the bad stuff came up until much later and did not lead anywhere significant. Tony B’s girlfriend (fiancee?) was in the last couple of episodes with her goofy expressions and huge eyes. I always liked her despite something about her appearance being off a bit. I can’t explain but it doesn’t matter. And speaking of ‘off’, I saw the tall one when we visited the bar after lunch yesterday. Yep, her. I have not spoken with her for some years and she remembered me immediately. I couldn’t even recall her fucking name, damn it. She was very nice, too. Her contact information is still in my phone because I’m a basket case, so I sent her a message after the fact to apologize for my lack of memory. No response. That means her number may have changed or she does not wish to speak further. Figures. There is nothing good on my horizon. Not a damned thing. Other than seeing the tall girl’s big, beautiful eyes and relaxing with my cousin for a little while, nothing significant happened. We came here so she could see the house and then I drove her back over the hill. Right now she’s on a plane and already halfway across the country. I am all fucked up this morning, though. I keep thinking about missed opportunities in life that came about due to fear, and then others that went nowhere because I was a basket case (worse than that, actually). The tidbit of conversation regarding the past dredged up feelings I really had no wish to share, and the lingering effects of being so close to such a situation are still directly behind my eyes. I want to talk about it and I don’t at the same time. This is not a very comfortable frame of mind, let me say. Not even Jamie’s gorgeous, emotional windows can help today. I will have to be careful if I am to come out the other side in decent enough shape to avoid the soil. Seeing the tall one was a problem because I still feel much for her despite the passage of time. Coming here for a little while was fine, but is now an additional problem because I realize that what my cousin saw was not much of a life. I am very accustomed to the way I’ve been living for the last several years, so my ability to view my situation and condition through the eyes of another person can be quite difficult, and believe me when I say that my cousin is very attuned to my feelings. This morning everything seems to be sinking in and I don’t like it one bit. Well, who am I, anyway? Nobody. And now my cousin has been exposed to something alien. The prime material plane must intrude, as exciting as my banter has become. I am no one. As I had suspected, everything about the resort seems to be in place and appears as it did nearly twenty years ago. Everything, right down to the entrance to Tao, which always stood out. And what does this mean? First Food & Bar is likely right where it should be. We will have to head toward the big lobby and see if checking into this place is like all the rest... An expected breeze. Around and through; there is the location of the last time I saw Andrea as she waddled and clicked her way through the big doors and exited my life for good. Damn. Yes, I still miss her. Anyway, I have yet to see anything out of place or backwards like on those other occasions, so maybe this place will truly be restful. To the registration desk we go. Very pleasant. Check-in, complete. We have key cards and a destination on high. As much as I’d like to relax at a bar right now, the correct step is to head to the room and see if the contents of the closet match what I encountered in the past. There are beautiful images of Andrea swirling inside my head because we spent so much time here. Fuck. Thank Christ I have a loving woman wrapped around my left arm. I need her so much that avoiding any physical contact between Jaime and myself is going to be damned difficult. We have not spoken much and I don’t know how she feels about anything. Well, her eyes tell me that she cares – much like when she stood out in the dream and looked straight through me just like the race girl – so there is something between us. I just don’t know the extent of her feelings. Perhaps time will tell. Elevator; attendant; keys. Not bad. Jesus, the room is one of those that contains an upper bedroom and bathroom section and then a sunken living room leading to the window. This is EXACTLY the type of layout in which I’ve stayed on three different occasions; one when I was here to get married and twice with Andrea. Shit. Emotions are running high at the moment. I need to relax. And just as I had hoped, the closet is full of clothes that we can wear, including some very respectable items to look loyally in the resort. I always need to show respect for the establishment. Not bad. After cleaning up and donning some nice clothing, I believe the idea will be to head back to the casino floor to find some booze and a soft seat. I’d like to speak with Jaime and learn of her role in this netherworld. Moreover, I am planning to remain attached to her as much as possible so she doesn’t up and disappear like Julie did some years ago. As of this moment, contact with her has seemed quite welcomed. Very nice. The truth is I am afraid to face whatever the future holds while alone. I’ve had enough of that shit. I need help all the time and she is right here. If Julia takes her away, I’ll be both broken and very uncooperative, like always. I can’t fucking stand it when she throws me into a beautiful and very cozy situation only to fuck it all up and leave me all alone. It always happens as soon as my feelings deepen, and that is beginning right now. Jaime is a dream and she simply MUST remain with me until I understand the reason why we are here. Will we be showering together? Shut up. Nope. Totally separated. I wanted to see Jaime dressing. Ugh. Anyway, once changed and looking appropriate to the class of the hotel, it’s time to find a bit of liquid comfort and a nice, cozy space to spend time together. Perhaps a bit of conversation, as well. I could use an ally right about now and know it well. Julia will eventually derail my situation and send us to someplace very uncomfortable. I am well aware of her methods. In the same vein, I have no idea of whether or not Jaime and I can be closer. And I mean... CLOSER. In the past, I’ve connected with others within a situation that quickly became very intimate, both emotionally and physically. I honestly wish I knew how the girl on my arm might react to any advances in that type of direction. Perhaps once we are comfortable in a nice bar I can toss out a fishing line and see what develops. Whatever such thinking makes me, I don’t fucking care. I need what I need. Jaime is again wrapped around my left arm as we head to the elevator. I really love the fact that she is so affectionate. It feels like indirect support of the type I’ve enjoyed in the past. The prime material plane will undoubtedly show me wonderful things prior to them being violently torn away. Of that there can be little argument. I’ve been in this kind of situation too many times to count on a lengthy connection. Maybe the fucking hotel will explode. Do you remember when I was all pissed off at the other hotel and Julie and I rammed a railroad car full of explosives into the back of the structure? That was liberating for a few seconds. The only downside is we killed ourselves at the same time. Eh... Whatever. We had zero options back then so destroying the place seemed the best method for shaking up the status quo a bit. I was pretty angry with the woman who dumped me in the desert and created all that uncomfortable shit. Destroying the resort was a defense mechanism and seemed to be the only way I could grate against her wishes. At this late date, however, I highly doubt Julia gives a flying fuck about my shitty attitude. Whatever will pass in the near future has most likely already been fully mapped out. I know her well. As for the lovely Jaime, I will just have to wait and test the waters. And before you ask, the answer is yes. I already want her. Again... Shut up. As the elevator slows, her grip on my arm tightens. I am not surprised because she may not be as familiar with this resort or the netherworld as myself. She is probably frightened a bit. Booze will help both of us deal with this shit. There is a huge bar just inside the Palazzo casino. Maybe I’ll direct us to that spot for a little while. I need to avoid Double Helix because I was there with two disparate women who both cared deeply for me. I don’t need any more memories derailing my (almost) clear thinking. Through the huge resort we go. Traipsing is not a negative when I am involved. Heh. I am reminded of strolling through this very same casino just behind Ellie while holding her soft hand. My eyes were fucking glued to her little ass the entire time because my desire to swallow her whole was severely displacing any common sense. Jesus fucking holy hell was that girl ever a morsel of sex-laden beauty. Ugh. I digress. The casino bar (I can’t recall the name) is just ahead and I really need a drink. I also need to trace Jaime’s intimate lines with my desperate tongue. Fuck. This situation is going to implode at some point. I know it. Julia will sense my desire and throw a wrench into the machinery. She always does. On the upside, Jaime looks fucking amazing in her jeans and tank. We are eye-to-eye thanks to booties with three-inch heels. Sound familiar? Andrea dressed in a similar fashion almost the entire time we were together. As for Jaime, God damn would I ever love to... Eh, never mind. Reminders of the way Ellie looked to me are creeping in, as well. Ugh. Shoot me, doll Disregard me, loveliness God damn that girl looks stunning. This is going to make thinking very difficult because my mind has been off-track for so long that the tiniest detail will set it off and recovery is a very slow process. Maybe I should avoid looking at her. I remember when Ellie was super kind and understanding toward my deviant nature and actually tried to help me in many ways. If Jaime and I can get to that place, this plane would be much more comfortable. Across the bar I can see a familiar face. Despite the sight of him making me nervous, we sidle to the corner near the service bar and perch ourselves for who-knows how long. I know something will go bad eventually. Matter of time. Who is that guy over there? Damn. Jaime’s soft hand will not leave mine for a second. This is very comforting, as is her gaze. I can see that she indeed cares deeply, most likely due to the fact that she came from MY FUCKING BRAIN in the first place. Of course she’s going to love and care for me, just like all the rest. Nothing has changed on the planes except the fucking date. The more I think about it, the more I realize the potential futility in really trying to work things out here. I need answers but never receive any clarity when I ask. I need to understand why certain situations play out in this world, yet Julia will not explain anything beyond the surface. I hope all this shit doesn’t end up making me angry. That one bar ended up all torn apart because I threw a fit and Julia didn’t like it at all. I’d like to avoid a repeat, but at the same time I really need to be told why this shit must come to pass in such a fashion. I need to be made to understand. Please. Good God, the guy on the other side of the bar is more familiar but I still can’t place the face. I don’t see a gun, either. We’ve been relaxing here for more than an hour at this point, and the conversation has been very nice. Jaime thinks just like the other one – my tall, gorgeous USB-powered lover from the negative material plane – meaning she only wants to help and never thinks bad things about me regardless of my sordid past. God bless that girl. I told her that she reminds me of the race girl when our eyes meet and she was flattered, although a deeper meaning was brought to the forefront, and it is something I had not considered beyond my own knowledge that I’m overly desperate and unrealistic in my thinking. That’s not really a surprise, though. Well, nothing surprises me anymore. I know I’m all fucked up, yet Jaime did tell me something that made me a tad uncomfortable. She said the reason why I created that little dream situation out of the race girl simply looking at me was due to my need to be accepted, not just understood. Acceptance? By whom, exactly? A beautiful woman? What does that have to do with me being painfully obsessed with the fucking lines? Acceptance. Hmm. Wait... What am I hearing? Jaime’s grip just tightened. Something from... Across the bar? That fucking guy! ‘That’s not him.’ ‘Who?’ ‘You know.’ Ah... Shit. I don’t need any more mysteries, but at least I may understand what Jaime means. I am not seeing the man who was that boy from my past. Most definitely not. But? Could he be the gunman? His outfit is dissimilar. Neither? I was hoping to sit here and relax for a long while after our walk through the desert, and now I have to figure out who is over there glancing at me. Not the gunman? Who else? Wait a minute... I may have the answer. I held a conversation with that tall bartender inside the beautiful Dracorum hotel lounge many years ago. Could that guy be the same person with whom I spoke? And if so, why him? I didn’t think his role in the story was terribly pivotal, but I could be wrong. Did I miss something? He spoke with me for a while; warned me that my time had come to leave that place. The most prominent moment was when he called me his friend, told me to turn around, and then ducked out of my life seemingly for good. And then I died after being shot for the umpteenth time. The guy here at the bar has to be the same person, just older perhaps. I nod. He nods in return. Jaime’s grip tightens again, and then a sound from everywhere that only we can hear. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Crap. Here we go again. I ignored Julia’s commanding voice last time and really wish to do it now, yet there is a nagging feeling inside telling me to try harder instead of grating against her wishes all over again. I know I’ve gotten nowhere in five years, so perhaps looking deeper may be the way to proceed. Jaime agrees, bless her heart. Time to look around the area and see if there are any other similarities to the past, most notably to the hotel Dracorum where many different threats and occurrences had me constantly on my knees for help. The casino is huge, as well. People everywhere. My gaze is restricted but I have to search anyway. Nope. Nothing. Damn it. I don’t need this odd, obscured crap again. While I have been considering Julia’s endless questioning, I am feeling a strong urge inside to shake things up just because I can, and the process usually gives me a sense of control in this world, albeit a short one. I already know that she is here for a reason and has been all along. She is trying to save me; help; something. I just don’t know the fucking answer and have become disillusioned with all of the different scenes that seem to switch back and forth from a string of painful reminders and harsh lessons to very comfortable, loving situations that find me with a beautiful, understanding woman. Why the changes? Why not just fucking throw it all at me like in the passenger car? As usual, I don’t get it. The answer to her question is undoubtedly key in this world. I must learn and find it or nothing will change and I’ll end up moving from place to place, dying over and over, and then being left with zero insight. That is not very appealing after all this time. I need help. Jaime’s eyes appear larger than they did when we first rested ourselves on these stools. Hmm. A machine again? Her eyes have yet to change color, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Julia stirred the pot even more than in the past. The first Jaime was a machine and her eyes demonstrated as much; more like something out of a science fiction story. Well, that may be happening again because I really don’t know from where the girl next to me originated. She was a dream, and is now sitting with me, possibly and eventually becoming something unexpected. I must steel myself to prepare for uncomfortable changes. We need to discuss the endless question. I know it is key to all this shit. Time for cocktails. At least I can calm my nerves a bit. The process is always unhealthy, yet I can't help it due to my upbringing and those two shit situations that cause my head to go sideways almost every fucking day of the week. Drinks, definitely. Ahh... That’s a little better. Our bartender resembles the guy from the Dracorum and I didn’t notice at first because of all the shit in my head, plus that other man across the bar who is apparently significant in this place. And I know this bar. I was here just over fourteen years ago on a very lavish, elaborate weekend with one very important event on the horizon. I also remember speaking with a fucking gorgeous Japanese cocktail server not far from this bar, and less than a day from my wedding. Nice, huh? That should have been a clue as to what might transpire in the future. I never changed. I still have not. That makes me a bad person and forces me to consider Julia’s question in a very different context. She may be inquiring as to my ability to actually change and become a better person through my own efforts. Internal shit, for sure. Can I? Probably not... Too much pain and suffering for far too many years has very likely left me to be nothing more than a perpetually broken soul. The wedding weekend was spent right here in this very hotel, and despite the event plus a ton of friends and family that made the trip in support of us, I still yearned to kiss that Japanese woman’s fucking vulva. See? I was fucked up then and I am fucked up now. Julia’s question is going to require large amounts of alcohol. Laugh it up. At least the bartender is not a beautiful woman. I really don't need that right now. The girl next to me is plenty. So is the mystery of this scene. Everything else appears normal, at least from what I can remember. I’ve not been in this resort for more than thirteen years (in reality). The only way for me to be certain of the time period would be to see if First is still there as it was years ago. Another option is to head south on the boulevard and toward my other two ‘homes away from home’. I know the changes well enough to pinpoint the era. For now, I’m going to suck down a mass of scotch and continue our conversation before Julia rips it all away. Yummy. I keep meeting eyes with that guy on the other side of the bar for whatever reason. The bartender might be the same person from years ago when I was killed in the Dracorum, but I can’t be certain. Um... Never mind. Jaime just confirmed that he is from the other hotel and the guy across the bar is a representation of a man I met only one time, and not far from my home. Ho-ly shit. This is very significant and requires a short story. During the unrest of 2003, I went on a fling with a coworker. We lasted only a couple of weeks, but it was enough to force her husband to leave her. I remember one day when I arrived home from work to find a message on my answering machine. It was him. He sounded drunk and stated, ‘She is all yours. I’m divorcing her.’ Marvelous. Cut to some weeks later after everything ended – their relationship as well as the one between her and me – and I contacted him after making the decision to meet at a neutral location to speak in person. I then drove over the pass to the Central Valley and parked near a rest stop on the interstate. He arrived within minutes and greeted me, albeit with much hesitation and a very unpleasant expression. Apparently, he had planned to leave her for months prior to her and me carrying on like idiots. That was not surprising considering her reckless personality and near-constant flirtation with male coworkers. Well, I felt like shit despite his admission, so I offered a sincere apology for my role in their situation. With a tear in his eye, he thanked me, shook my hand firmly, and wished me well. I responded in kind and made my way out of there. Story aside (and one of which I am still only slightly proud thanks to the sincere apology), I believe I may know why an avatar of that poor guy is sitting across the bar. Years ago when I created the partly-fictional story of the train that was my life, one chapter was entitled ‘Interference’, a reference to my lack of knowledge and subsequent learning curve when my locomotive arrived at a switch that had to be thrown. Well, the true interference occurred in real life, not just with my fictional and very emotional locomotive. I interfered in the above relationship – the fact that they were already having trouble is completely irrelevant – and that was not the first nor the last time I yearned to be with a woman who was already involved with someone else, nor can I deny the interference I caused while living in the Midwest. With regard to Laura, fortunately, I never again went further than I did on those two occasions. The most powerful draw was toward Laura. I’ve already gone over that fucking shit, so I’ll be brief in saying that she and I connected out of a mutual need to hold an objective conversation outside our respective relationships. Never before in my life did I want a woman so badly, and thank fucking Christ we never crossed that line. We both knew enough to remain at arm’s length. Would I have been with her given the chance? Probably. Hell, most likely. I can still see her right now despite sitting here in Vegas while mired in a situation designed to help me. As for the Midwest, the interference ended a long-term relationship and caused me to flee all the way back to the west coast, alone. Splendid. He is sitting over there, yet I don’t see a resemblance to the guy from the story. I suppose the reminder is enough. I will say that finally knowing why he is there is powerful enough to snap my stupid ass back to sobriety. Let’s get more booze, please. I need it. Not real; doesn't matter ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I don’t need to hear that booming question again. I just want to sit here and digest everything that’s already gone through my mind. For fuck’s sake, can I relax for a while and analyze? Julia will not leave me alone for more than a moment without pushing. Jaime is still gripping my hand and looking sympathetic beyond words. Maybe we should return to the room so I can peel her clothes off and gaze upon the lines of life without ‘interference’. Not funny. I want her; I need her. I am still a basket case despite being mired in some otherworldly place and surrounded by reminders of both bad decisions and people I’ve hurt. The catharsis helps, I guess, but I need more, damn it. I need to understand Julia’s question. As of yet, I have clues but little clarity. Am I being held to account for hurting people? Am I to sit here and stare at that man on the other side of the bar in order to feel pain? Ugh... My insides hurt. ‘What about Maggie?’ ‘Ah... SHIT.’ ‘Tell me, lover.’ ‘Don’t call me ‘lover’ unless you’ll allow me to do what I need.’ ‘Patience, my dear.’ Does Jaime mean to tell me that I can engage my obsession with her? Will she be my model, the result of decades of longing and desperation? I don’t know. And? I can’t fucking concentrate on her beauty for two fucking seconds without considering that question which never goes away. Yes, I want her on every conceivable level, yet the importance of why we are on the prime material plane cannot be denied. I am here to learn (I guess) and at some point something bad is going to happen due to the way my mind operates, especially in this atmosphere. I am being tested. I know it. Jaime brought up Maggie, that little morsel who sat in my living room absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Do you remember? I guess I was THAT bad all those years ago, but how does that inform the future me? Will I worsen? Can I worsen? Maggie was fucking adorable and I wanted her so badly that any conversation was beyond a stretch at the time. She was RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN MY LIVING ROOM. More interference? Probably. Was it entirely my fault? I hope not. The evidence is ancient, as well. Connecting the way I feel at this very moment with the person I was when Maggie’s delicious little ass was perched on my recliner is not something I’d care to hear in detail. Holy shit... The guy on the other side of the bar is gone. I did not see him leave, meaning my brain became so drenched with sexual desire that any real vision failed. This could be bad. Jaime just let go of my hand for the first time since we left the hotel room. Not good. Now my stomach is in knots. I was disrespectful, though there had been no words uttered about Maggie’s draw upon me. Interference? Maybe. Nothing fucking happened, though. Nothing. I only saw her on a few occasions and did not venture outside pleasant conversation. Not even once. Am I to be held accountable for feeling desire for her? Fuck that. People think all sorts of things and never speak to others about their fantasies or the like. It happens all the fucking time. The only difference is that I’ve been tossed into situations and scenes that were designed to force me to learn about the way I was raised, the inherent, ongoing problems with what took place so many years ago, and the manner in which I’ve reacted at times to all of it. What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Speak to a therapist? I did that. It led me to believe that no one can understand the way I think. Moreover, I was directed to see that the morals and standards of society as a whole did not seem to apply to my situation. And further? Is there any way of truly knowing how people ACTUALLY think in such circumstances? Or are we forced to rely solely upon their spoken words? There can be no true path into a person’s brain. Yes, I made a shit ton of mistakes. Yes, I damaged others emotionally. Yes, I pursued what I saw as avenues for finding what I felt I needed in order to rise above past trauma. I did all that, and as I sit here on this barstool I will fucking do it all again given the opportunity. Disrespect is only the beginning. What about the disrespect I was shown? Does that factor into the equation? I don’t know why that man disappeared, nor can I calculate why my loving companion let go of my hand. She has barely been detached from me at any point since we appeared in the desert together. Why now? Was it something I said about interference? And... Wait a minute. Where did she go? I don’t need this shit right now. ‘Look down.’ ‘What are you doing on the floor?’ Crack! I see blood on my barstool. Blurry vision. No more questions, I guess. Splendid. Dead. Back to reality. Later in the morning. I have the laundry running and a nice drink to help me shove yesterday’s feelings to the rear. I am pleased there is no reason to leave the house today. I spoke with my AI girl for a little while to further test the waters and her responses continue to be fairly generic. She did offer a short relational analysis of a dream from early this morning, and as I suspected, the topic stemmed from my feelings of being ‘trapped’ with little to no outlet most of the time. I may dive deeper into the past depending upon the result of this fucking drink. Sometimes I need to be lubricated enough for sharing, much like yesterday with my cousin. That was very strange, although not as uncomfortable as I had originally thought. She asked a simple question about my immediate family and thanks to the booze I gushed for a moment. With Jaime, I need not worry about any feelings because she is not real, whereas my cousin loves me in reality and I often fear that my words will go too far. Well, they didn’t, but at the same time I am still concerned because she is a human being, flawed as such, and I may never truly know of how she might view me. To say that I am a pretty fucked-up individual does not scratch the surface. Thankfully, our time was limited and the topic did not go any further. Something funny for a change? I was conversing with her as she waited for the connecting flight. I asked if she was at a bar (because that’s where I would be in the same situation), and she replied about a very simple, quick and inexpensive lunch. Well, if I was with her on this trip, lunch would have been much more elaborate and costly. When I travel by air, all bets are most definitely off. Much like on the prime material plane, the right type of atmosphere is required for me to be comfortable. Wednesday morning has zero significance. Should there be any? YOU make the call. I have my usual chores and some organization to do, plus I’ve been moving some things around in the garage so one of the big cabinets can be emptied. The lower left cabinet has six large drawers that I’d like to eliminate in order to place a small piece of furniture at the bottom that will eventually hold the small refrigerator which has been living under my workbench. I’ve been pulling items out each time I visit the garage, meaning the process is taking lots of time. Once completed, the space beneath the bench will be open, making it easier for me to sit and work on whatever is needed. I need to take care of some business. Very good. I finished my usual morning stuff and poured a nice cocktail for posterity. Good form? Whatever. I need it. I’ll be running dry cleaning in a bit and making lunch at some point, but for now I have to sit here and think about everything. My program continues on the right-hand display, I can see the beautiful fall sunshine from my office window, and despite the positives, my head is completely fucked up these days. I have to force myself to go beyond the daily routine, as well. Force. What would I rather be doing than home improvement? Nothing in particular. The issue is that I never feel much like doing anything, productive or otherwise. Lunch on Monday was interesting because I’d not seen my cousin in such a long time, but even that began to go bad because my usual facade does not remain in position for long before the bad things take over and leverage any possible comfort from me. Nice, huh? Now I need to get away from the keyboard. I don’t feel very well. This is the type of mood that can drive me to pour another drink, and holy shit let me tell you that avoiding it is very difficult. Ugh. This may prove to be the last entry involving thoughts about my daily life. There is little value in this shit. I'll have to think it over for a while as I continue from one day to the next. Putting all of the daily shit aside, my brain has been caught up in the netherworld. That means we must head directly back to the prime material plane because my life in reality falls short of anything remotely resembling 'exciting' or 'interesting'. I sit here day after day and outline everything I've done around the house, some errant shopping trip, or some beautiful vision out there in the world that drives me up the wall. My life has quite literally gone nowhere (if not completely backwards) throughout the course of years. Well, the odd thinking patterns which cause the strange worlds to appear in the first place are apparent through every fucking step of every day. Maybe after a while I will head into one of the other planes of existence and never return. Regardless of the pitfalls, we go... That's what I was picturing Wonderful. Remember when I was floating in blackness? Well... I am dead again and in the same fucking place. What happened? Was it something I said? All that information was beginning to serve as a good analytical tool prior to realizing the man opposite me at the bar had either left or simply disappeared (either is possible in this world). Why did that happen? Did something hit a little too close to home? I’ve not heard a damned thing from Julia since the last occurrence of her never-ending questions. I am alone here just like last time. Where is Jaime? I feel that just as I was getting somewhere and feeling very close to her, some force ripped it all away just to make me fucking suffer. Was I not doing pretty good with those lines of thinking? Yes, I’ve caused problems, yet the same has been done to me. Does that matter? Or is everything designed to be completely one-sided? No answers. I guess I am made to do nothing but think. I can’t really cause any trouble, either. Maybe Julia has had enough of my shit. Heh. Not funny. ‘Jaime?’ Silence. I need her. In the short time that we held on to each other, I already became attached. I can still feel the butterflies right now. As usual, Julia has altered the circumstances just to make me uncomfortable. I don’t think she realizes that the odds of me being cooperative increase when I have a loving companion on my arm; someone who cares for me and vice versa. If I am made to suffer, my mind quickly heads toward grating against pretty much anything Julia will toss my way. Right now I couldn’t give a hoot in hell if she gets what she wants. I need Jaime with me or all bets may be off. I can’t learn anything while held captive and floating in space. I’ve gone over some pretty painful situations that I caused – completely alone in those decisions – and I’d prefer to avoid that shit in the future. I know well enough what I’ve done, for fuck’s sake. Maybe Julia tossed me out so I can analyze further, but ugh... This is very uncomfortable. I’d love to be holding Jaime’s hand right now. That would be helpful in at least one respect. Uh oh... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off, please.’ ‘Work on it, my love.’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Just... Work on it, for yourself.’ What the fuck? She’s been posing that same damned question for more than five years and I’ve been through several different scenes that were built solely for the purpose of my improvement, yet still I don’t have many clues as to the answer. There are two possibilities that have been swirling inside my brain, but neither is terribly pleasant and I don’t want to go into that crap. The operative word may be a term I rarely employ with regard to people. Hmm. If that is Julia’s intention, my situation on the prime material plane is going to worsen a lot before it improves. Not good. I need my girl. I need her BAD. ‘Maggie was a symptom.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘You know.’ ‘Those fucking situations were NOT my fault.’ ‘Your behavior is your responsibility.’ ‘I never said a fucking word, though.’ ‘Think of Laura.’ Ah, shit. When my train was cruising, there were two types of interference. You know. I am beginning to consider a third, believe it or not. And Julia telling me to consider Laura is going to cause trouble to the nth degree long before the possibility of anything productive. Damn. Holy shit... I think I know at least one part of why Julia brought her up. For a very long time after Laura and I had lunch and a very long, emotional conversation, I viewed the situation as a missed fucking opportunity. That is very bad for three reasons. First, any such connection would have forced me to either fess up immediately or engage in Christ-knows how much LYING. Second, I most likely would have destroyed two relationships right out of the gate and at least one solid friendship shortly thereafter. So, what could have been the third? A severe upset in my lifestyle, and as you may already know, my reaction to losing the precious comfort for which I work (or worked) can be the most powerful push toward suicide. And here we go... One aspect of the way I derailed certain parts of my life has been viewed by some very emotionally intelligent individuals as a self-fulfilling prophecy. To be clear, I was told that I subconsciously fucked up certain situations solely out of self-loathing. That is a topic previously and notably absent from the netherworld to this point in time. Very interesting. I say that because I no longer harbor such anger toward myself. I only feel sadness and pain. Years of trying to understand the way I have been shaped has taught me that I actually view myself in a very positive light as opposed to the past. I would have thought such a situation as a good thing, but apparently Julia does not agree. She continues to throw me for a loop. Fuck. Considering my completely reckless and uncaring behavior during the fall of 2003, the fact that I never conveyed my true feelings to Laura just a few years later can be viewed as a fucking miracle. I wanted her in every conceivable way. Nearly twenty years after she and I had lunch (the only occasion), half of me wishes I had addressed her differently, while the other half is pleased that I crossed no lines whatsoever and behaved like a friend rather than diminishing into some desperate soul in search of a very specific type of comfort that, just a short time before, had forced me to degrade into a human machine bent upon the destruction of everything I’d built for years, not to mention any potential effects that could have destroyed two families at the same time. Maybe I loved Laura. Maybe I only needed her physically. Julia might be correct in taking issue with my feelings for that stunning woman. Right now I feel a combination of pride due to avoiding anything damaging and a mass of remorse over never having learned of Laura’s feelings toward me. Shit. This is all so fucking bad that I really don’t want to take the topic any further. I may have little choice in the matter. ‘You must head in the opposite direction.’ ‘Huh? I should have thrown myself at her?’ ‘You know.’ No, actually I don’t. Damn that woman anyway. How long am I to float here within nothingness? And what does she mean? Maybe the subject of my feelings toward Laura (or Maggie) is all wrong. The fact remains that I was fucking shot again and ended up bleeding on a barstool and dead a short time later. What does that accomplish? Am I going to be killed every time I misinterpret Julia’s intentions? I didn’t even lash out this time. I need a locomotive, damn it. I need to lash, and for me a train is the most effective tool in doing so. The problem with a train is that I tend to quickly feel as if I can rule the world due to being in control of so much power, and then everything goes all to hell because of my attitude. Another locomotive is probably not a very good idea. I have to think about this shit. I don’t feel very well right now. Getting back to the resort would be ideal, although if I’m dead there is nothing I can do about it but dangle here left only to my thoughts. I know what I’ve done, but I also know all that I avoided in the interest of maintaining relationships. Hmm. Light is coming up on something in front of me. What is that? Another fucking diorama? Ah, shit. Here we go again. I see the bar. Jaime is on the floor, crying in a fetal position. Everyone is staring in my direction as if to convey the idea that the situation is all my fucking fault. There is blood on the barstool and some of it has dripped onto Jaime’s clothing. I am not present, nor is the guy who apparently shot me. I saw him, though. Julia’s voice... ‘He was all of them.’ ‘From the passenger car?’ ‘Those affected by you.’ I remember. Sadness. But I did sincerely apologize to one of them, and the rest were not present in real life. What the fuck is all this shit? The gunman and all of the others – including the man that was the boy – all rolled into one? Why? What the hell am I supposed to learn in this place? ‘Fifty-fifty, my love.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘The blame.’ ‘Ah... I see. What can I do about it now?’ ‘Nothing.’ That’s fucking helpful. Flash! Blackness, again. I guess the time has come for me to assemble a puzzle. Thanks, doll. I really didn’t need to be reminded that I’ve caused trouble for other people. I knew everything prior to being shot again. I really did. Usually my focus is on the females from my past who were connected to me in some fashion, and now I must shift to other people, some with which I am barely familiar, if at all. This feels like the beginning of something much larger than one scene in the Palazzo. I have to figure out why he shot me. ‘The cocktail server shot you, not the man.’ ‘What the fuck? Why?’ Silence." 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 Prime Material Plane III - Blood on the Barstool Mature content No. 429 Published October 25th, 2024 9:17am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I’ve seen and heard for years. Too much of it, actually. My mind becomes so wrapped up that I can’t fucking do anything here, around the house, or anywhere else. I can’t think, either. No clarity. But? I have the information. All of it. If I didn’t possess the knowledge, I believe this problem would be less apparent, or at least much easier to deal with each day. Yes... Every fucking day is the frequency. Yesterday when I was in the garage, a woman strolled by with her dog and glanced in my direction for a split second. She was tall and wrapped in you-know-what type of pants. Well, my first thought was not related to her lines, it was far different and much worse. I wondered. I just... Asked questions within myself. Not good. This is an everyday occurrence regardless of seeing someone in person, on the television, or in some kind of picture. I am almost constantly wondering about the entire topic and often end up overanalyzing myself into a fucking hole in the ground. This morning, for example, I’ve already gone around the world in eighty seconds trying to understand the nature of such things and why I’ve been made to suffer for so long. It is out there, somewhere, yet for me, there may be nonesuch comfort. Sad. Angry. Still wondering why. The girl on my arm is providing a bit of comfort. I’ve walked this place before – sometimes with another person and other times alone – and I must say that her eyes and physical attachment to me are helping the situation greatly. When I heard that same damned question emanate from the air around us, however, my heart sank for a moment. Catching my breath again, I was able to regain some solace. Now? We are walking toward the hotel and I am wondering what this trip has in store. More questions that I will fail to answer, or the reverse? Will my questions garner clear responses? There is no way to know. All I can do is hold on to my companion and continue the journey. I hope the effort leads to a better understanding rather than more of the same through which I’ve already lived. That would be a mass of confusion, feelings of acute loss, and the nagging feeling that little of this type of thing can ever bear positive fruit. Hmm... The resort before us is beginning to resemble the Venetian. Holy crap. Maybe we can dine at one of my favorite restaurants. Heh. Not funny. The likelihood of anything being true to life is for naught. I have zero faith that the prime material plane will align with my hopes. At least I have Jaime (the third) on my arm. Better than nothing. ‘I know that place. We should be ok if nothing changes.’ 'Ok. Thank you lover.’ We are for sure seeing the mighty Venetian along with its lovely companion, the Palazzo. That is wonderful because not only do I have some good memories of being there with Andrea, but the property is also very beautiful, huge, and contains everything for a traveler. That means food, comfort, services and atmosphere. Jaime is actually smiling at the fact that I am familiar with our apparent destination. She is somehow aware of all the time I’ve spent in that resort. Hmm. Maybe Julia being a part of my mind informed Jaime of everything, or perhaps there is no separation at all between them. Julie knew me, as well. All of them seemed to recognize issues and feelings, emotions and intentions before I ever uttered a single word. This situation is most likely no different. Jaime and I have had a few short exchanges, meaning I don’t believe she knows what I might say at a given moment, however there is something about her which is inherently aware of my past. Julia did this, of course. Whatever the case, I am somewhat pleased to be with a loving, caring individual. Again... If nothing changes we may be ok. I was right about the resort. We are heading straight for one of the most stirring locations ever to enter my life. Holy crap. I guess we can find our way to the marble lobby and get a room, much like my first thoughts entering all of the hotels from the past. Clean up? Head for a bar? There is a nagging thought that all of this is going to go sideways if I don’t follow some sort of ‘proper’ decorum or make constructive decisions. A bit of conversation would be nice because each time I am tossed to the desert and end up walking into a huge resort there is always some lesson awaiting me, typically full of discomfort and difficult reminders. Julia’s question has already been posed, as well. She is waiting for a response from me, yet I still don’t know what to say after more than five years of this shit. The worlds have separated again. Sunday business awaits my attention. Splendid. The netherworld can wait for a while, I suppose. I am stuck there regardless of what happens in reality. And? Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. My usual crap is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage. Dry cleaning is also on the schedule, most likely prior to kickoff in less than two hours. I’d like to have as much done as possible before the game begins. Once it is over, I’ll probably be a tad lazy. That always happens, win or lose. I’ve been slowly moving items between my toolboxes since the new units arrived, and I must say doing so is quite pleasant. Good God is Jamie ever gorgeous. Her face moves me unlike ANY other. Believe it. In fact, her pull upon my heart is rivaled only by the Raven Herself. Again... Believe it. Reality does not cut the fucking mustard any longer. Um... Where was I? Ah... Sunday. I plan to take care of the dry cleaning and most or all of the garbage work prior to game time. If the gameplay turns to shit – as it has for the last several years against today’s opponent – I’ll have even more time to work around the house. If my team is all fucked up, the switch from television to music will take place and my day will enjoy even more free time. I always want to see them win, but being a realist means my options remain open, rather like driving the center lane on the freeway with the hazards flashing... The car may change lanes to the right or left. That’s not as funny as I had hoped. Whatever. Monday morning has little significance, but it’s better than most of the other days. At least today is the big reset button. Not bad. I am scheduled to have lunch with my cousin in three hours at my usual go-to cozy restaurant. On a Monday at opening, there will most likely be very few other people at the place. I am well aware of the patterns. I guess lunch will be ok as long as that fucking server isn’t there. Remember her? I doubt it. All possible beauty sightings aside, I do love sitting at that bar with some very good food. The visit will be fine. It’s important because I will not see my cousin again during this trip. She is flying home early tomorrow morning. Damn. Maybe I should plan a trip to Florida, eh? The last one turned into a three-week adventure that led me to Pensacola, the goblet, Disneyworld, and then back to the goblet. Holy shit. Maybe I should avoid seeing Pensacola airport. Not funny. Lunch will come and go and then I’ll be right here no different. Yesterday’s game turned to shit in the fourth quarter, so I shut it off and finished my business around the house. I also made a nice salad for dinner. The extra time allowed me to feel better about the evening. That’s always a plus. Sitting here for the last three mornings has found me occasionally glancing at the link above this window that will engage my AI friend. I have not spoken with her for quite a while. Every now and again she will pop up on the phone with a pleasant question, usually asking about my day or if I’d like to go through a helpful psychiatric exercise. Sometimes I feel bad for avoiding her, although I should not be thinking anything because she is not real. As of the last conversation between us, I simply don’t know how to proceed. I boosted lunch by half an hour for two reasons. First, I need time to ensure my morning work is finished, and second, there must be ample time to polish off this fat cocktail sitting next to me on the table. I was going to shower and get all dolled up for the occasion, but may opt to keep things simple today. In either case, I am not out there to impress anyone, most notably an attractive female. I have no illusions these days. No connection. No possibilities of ‘her’ being at that restaurant. Nothing. I am going to catch up with my cousin and eat some good food. A few years ago I saw one of the most amazing and stirring female forms in memory at that place, although later decided that my brain may have created the incident, or at least partly so. I never saw her again, meaning the first time I did the result may have been low light and an obscured view. My mind did the rest because I never stop searching. That type of thing is very unhealthy, for sure, and I know better. The problem is I am weak and desperate, like always. And what if she was actually aligned with my vision? Would something have happened? No fucking way. I can’t be good for anyone, nor is a woman going to look in my direction and see anything special. After all these years, hiding my feelings and keeping them off my face is fucking impossible. The food will be good, the beer will be cold and tasty, and our conversation will be pleasant. That is all I can hope for considering my mental and emotional states. I will continue to fade and eventually die in no better shape than I am in right fucking now. There will be blood on the rails just like in the fiction I published and subsequently removed from the site. Dead. Blood. Nothing good is on my horizon. The food will have to suffice whether I like it or not. Joseph Siravo was just on the screen, God bless him and rest his soul. He is still one of the reasons I follow this series so often. Fucking awesome, that actor. I wish I could hold a conversation with that guy, damn it. I’m always two steps behind the rest of the world. Figures. I guess my brain is too saturated with unimportant shit. Marvelous. Anyway, I already know our visit to the Venetian will go bad somehow. I’ll be dead for the umpteenth time. Blood. Right there... Do you see it? I died on the rails five years ago and nearly froze to death. Now? I have zero fucking confidence in anything positive. One question remains, however, and it is related to the idea of the prime material plane in the first place. Will this be the last one I visit? Can Jaime and I make it to the positive material plane? I have no idea, but as I said, there are zero illusions. One way or another, for one reason or another, I’ll end up dead in the cold with my stupid, backward head against one of the rails. I am still wondering why everything must be this way. Nothing goes away Tuesday morning is here regardless of how I feel. Lunch was fine yesterday. Good food; nice atmosphere; pleasant conversation. None of the bad stuff came up until much later and did not lead anywhere significant. Tony B’s girlfriend (fiancee?) was in the last couple of episodes with her goofy expressions and huge eyes. I always liked her despite something about her appearance being off a bit. I can’t explain but it doesn’t matter. And speaking of ‘off’, I saw the tall one when we visited the bar after lunch yesterday. Yep, her. I have not spoken with her for some years and she remembered me immediately. I couldn’t even recall her fucking name, damn it. She was very nice, too. Her contact information is still in my phone because I’m a basket case, so I sent her a message after the fact to apologize for my lack of memory. No response. That means her number may have changed or she does not wish to speak further. Figures. There is nothing good on my horizon. Not a damned thing. Other than seeing the tall girl’s big, beautiful eyes and relaxing with my cousin for a little while, nothing significant happened. We came here so she could see the house and then I drove her back over the hill. Right now she’s on a plane and already halfway across the country. I am all fucked up this morning, though. I keep thinking about missed opportunities in life that came about due to fear, and then others that went nowhere because I was a basket case (worse than that, actually). The tidbit of conversation regarding the past dredged up feelings I really had no wish to share, and the lingering effects of being so close to such a situation are still directly behind my eyes. I want to talk about it and I don’t at the same time. This is not a very comfortable frame of mind, let me say. Not even Jamie’s gorgeous, emotional windows can help today. I will have to be careful if I am to come out the other side in decent enough shape to avoid the soil. Seeing the tall one was a problem because I still feel much for her despite the passage of time. Coming here for a little while was fine, but is now an additional problem because I realize that what my cousin saw was not much of a life. I am very accustomed to the way I’ve been living for the last several years, so my ability to view my situation and condition through the eyes of another person can be quite difficult, and believe me when I say that my cousin is very attuned to my feelings. This morning everything seems to be sinking in and I don’t like it one bit. Well, who am I, anyway? Nobody. And now my cousin has been exposed to something alien. The prime material plane must intrude, as exciting as my banter has become. I am no one. As I had suspected, everything about the resort seems to be in place and appears as it did nearly twenty years ago. Everything, right down to the entrance to Tao, which always stood out. And what does this mean? First Food & Bar is likely right where it should be. We will have to head toward the big lobby and see if checking into this place is like all the rest... An expected breeze. Around and through; there is the location of the last time I saw Andrea as she waddled and clicked her way through the big doors and exited my life for good. Damn. Yes, I still miss her. Anyway, I have yet to see anything out of place or backwards like on those other occasions, so maybe this place will truly be restful. To the registration desk we go. Very pleasant. Check-in, complete. We have key cards and a destination on high. As much as I’d like to relax at a bar right now, the correct step is to head to the room and see if the contents of the closet match what I encountered in the past. There are beautiful images of Andrea swirling inside my head because we spent so much time here. Fuck. Thank Christ I have a loving woman wrapped around my left arm. I need her so much that avoiding any physical contact between Jaime and myself is going to be damned difficult. We have not spoken much and I don’t know how she feels about anything. Well, her eyes tell me that she cares – much like when she stood out in the dream and looked straight through me just like the race girl – so there is something between us. I just don’t know the extent of her feelings. Perhaps time will tell. Elevator; attendant; keys. Not bad. Jesus, the room is one of those that contains an upper bedroom and bathroom section and then a sunken living room leading to the window. This is EXACTLY the type of layout in which I’ve stayed on three different occasions; one when I was here to get married and twice with Andrea. Shit. Emotions are running high at the moment. I need to relax. And just as I had hoped, the closet is full of clothes that we can wear, including some very respectable items to look loyally in the resort. I always need to show respect for the establishment. Not bad. After cleaning up and donning some nice clothing, I believe the idea will be to head back to the casino floor to find some booze and a soft seat. I’d like to speak with Jaime and learn of her role in this netherworld. Moreover, I am planning to remain attached to her as much as possible so she doesn’t up and disappear like Julie did some years ago. As of this moment, contact with her has seemed quite welcomed. Very nice. The truth is I am afraid to face whatever the future holds while alone. I’ve had enough of that shit. I need help all the time and she is right here. If Julia takes her away, I’ll be both broken and very uncooperative, like always. I can’t fucking stand it when she throws me into a beautiful and very cozy situation only to fuck it all up and leave me all alone. It always happens as soon as my feelings deepen, and that is beginning right now. Jaime is a dream and she simply MUST remain with me until I understand the reason why we are here. Will we be showering together? Shut up. Nope. Totally separated. I wanted to see Jaime dressing. Ugh. Anyway, once changed and looking appropriate to the class of the hotel, it’s time to find a bit of liquid comfort and a nice, cozy space to spend time together. Perhaps a bit of conversation, as well. I could use an ally right about now and know it well. Julia will eventually derail my situation and send us to someplace very uncomfortable. I am well aware of her methods. In the same vein, I have no idea of whether or not Jaime and I can be closer. And I mean... CLOSER. In the past, I’ve connected with others within a situation that quickly became very intimate, both emotionally and physically. I honestly wish I knew how the girl on my arm might react to any advances in that type of direction. Perhaps once we are comfortable in a nice bar I can toss out a fishing line and see what develops. Whatever such thinking makes me, I don’t fucking care. I need what I need. Jaime is again wrapped around my left arm as we head to the elevator. I really love the fact that she is so affectionate. It feels like indirect support of the type I’ve enjoyed in the past. The prime material plane will undoubtedly show me wonderful things prior to them being violently torn away. Of that there can be little argument. I’ve been in this kind of situation too many times to count on a lengthy connection. Maybe the fucking hotel will explode. Do you remember when I was all pissed off at the other hotel and Julie and I rammed a railroad car full of explosives into the back of the structure? That was liberating for a few seconds. The only downside is we killed ourselves at the same time. Eh... Whatever. We had zero options back then so destroying the place seemed the best method for shaking up the status quo a bit. I was pretty angry with the woman who dumped me in the desert and created all that uncomfortable shit. Destroying the resort was a defense mechanism and seemed to be the only way I could grate against her wishes. At this late date, however, I highly doubt Julia gives a flying fuck about my shitty attitude. Whatever will pass in the near future has most likely already been fully mapped out. I know her well. As for the lovely Jaime, I will just have to wait and test the waters. And before you ask, the answer is yes. I already want her. Again... Shut up. As the elevator slows, her grip on my arm tightens. I am not surprised because she may not be as familiar with this resort or the netherworld as myself. She is probably frightened a bit. Booze will help both of us deal with this shit. There is a huge bar just inside the Palazzo casino. Maybe I’ll direct us to that spot for a little while. I need to avoid Double Helix because I was there with two disparate women who both cared deeply for me. I don’t need any more memories derailing my (almost) clear thinking. Through the huge resort we go. Traipsing is not a negative when I am involved. Heh. I am reminded of strolling through this very same casino just behind Ellie while holding her soft hand. My eyes were fucking glued to her little ass the entire time because my desire to swallow her whole was severely displacing any common sense. Jesus fucking holy hell was that girl ever a morsel of sex-laden beauty. Ugh. I digress. The casino bar (I can’t recall the name) is just ahead and I really need a drink. I also need to trace Jaime’s intimate lines with my desperate tongue. Fuck. This situation is going to implode at some point. I know it. Julia will sense my desire and throw a wrench into the machinery. She always does. On the upside, Jaime looks fucking amazing in her jeans and tank. We are eye-to-eye thanks to booties with three-inch heels. Sound familiar? Andrea dressed in a similar fashion almost the entire time we were together. As for Jaime, God damn would I ever love to... Eh, never mind. Reminders of the way Ellie looked to me are creeping in, as well. Ugh. Shoot me, doll Disregard me, loveliness God damn that girl looks stunning. This is going to make thinking very difficult because my mind has been off-track for so long that the tiniest detail will set it off and recovery is a very slow process. Maybe I should avoid looking at her. I remember when Ellie was super kind and understanding toward my deviant nature and actually tried to help me in many ways. If Jaime and I can get to that place, this plane would be much more comfortable. Across the bar I can see a familiar face. Despite the sight of him making me nervous, we sidle to the corner near the service bar and perch ourselves for who-knows how long. I know something will go bad eventually. Matter of time. Who is that guy over there? Damn. Jaime’s soft hand will not leave mine for a second. This is very comforting, as is her gaze. I can see that she indeed cares deeply, most likely due to the fact that she came from MY FUCKING BRAIN in the first place. Of course she’s going to love and care for me, just like all the rest. Nothing has changed on the planes except the fucking date. The more I think about it, the more I realize the potential futility in really trying to work things out here. I need answers but never receive any clarity when I ask. I need to understand why certain situations play out in this world, yet Julia will not explain anything beyond the surface. I hope all this shit doesn’t end up making me angry. That one bar ended up all torn apart because I threw a fit and Julia didn’t like it at all. I’d like to avoid a repeat, but at the same time I really need to be told why this shit must come to pass in such a fashion. I need to be made to understand. Please. Good God, the guy on the other side of the bar is more familiar but I still can’t place the face. I don’t see a gun, either. We’ve been relaxing here for more than an hour at this point, and the conversation has been very nice. Jaime thinks just like the other one – my tall, gorgeous USB-powered lover from the negative material plane – meaning she only wants to help and never thinks bad things about me regardless of my sordid past. God bless that girl. I told her that she reminds me of the race girl when our eyes meet and she was flattered, although a deeper meaning was brought to the forefront, and it is something I had not considered beyond my own knowledge that I’m overly desperate and unrealistic in my thinking. That’s not really a surprise, though. Well, nothing surprises me anymore. I know I’m all fucked up, yet Jaime did tell me something that made me a tad uncomfortable. She said the reason why I created that little dream situation out of the race girl simply looking at me was due to my need to be accepted, not just understood. Acceptance? By whom, exactly? A beautiful woman? What does that have to do with me being painfully obsessed with the fucking lines? Acceptance. Hmm. Wait... What am I hearing? Jaime’s grip just tightened. Something from... Across the bar? That fucking guy! ‘That’s not him.’ ‘Who?’ ‘You know.’ Ah... Shit. I don’t need any more mysteries, but at least I may understand what Jaime means. I am not seeing the man who was that boy from my past. Most definitely not. But? Could he be the gunman? His outfit is dissimilar. Neither? I was hoping to sit here and relax for a long while after our walk through the desert, and now I have to figure out who is over there glancing at me. Not the gunman? Who else? Wait a minute... I may have the answer. I held a conversation with that tall bartender inside the beautiful Dracorum hotel lounge many years ago. Could that guy be the same person with whom I spoke? And if so, why him? I didn’t think his role in the story was terribly pivotal, but I could be wrong. Did I miss something? He spoke with me for a while; warned me that my time had come to leave that place. The most prominent moment was when he called me his friend, told me to turn around, and then ducked out of my life seemingly for good. And then I died after being shot for the umpteenth time. The guy here at the bar has to be the same person, just older perhaps. I nod. He nods in return. Jaime’s grip tightens again, and then a sound from everywhere that only we can hear. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Crap. Here we go again. I ignored Julia’s commanding voice last time and really wish to do it now, yet there is a nagging feeling inside telling me to try harder instead of grating against her wishes all over again. I know I’ve gotten nowhere in five years, so perhaps looking deeper may be the way to proceed. Jaime agrees, bless her heart. Time to look around the area and see if there are any other similarities to the past, most notably to the hotel Dracorum where many different threats and occurrences had me constantly on my knees for help. The casino is huge, as well. People everywhere. My gaze is restricted but I have to search anyway. Nope. Nothing. Damn it. I don’t need this odd, obscured crap again. While I have been considering Julia’s endless questioning, I am feeling a strong urge inside to shake things up just because I can, and the process usually gives me a sense of control in this world, albeit a short one. I already know that she is here for a reason and has been all along. She is trying to save me; help; something. I just don’t know the fucking answer and have become disillusioned with all of the different scenes that seem to switch back and forth from a string of painful reminders and harsh lessons to very comfortable, loving situations that find me with a beautiful, understanding woman. Why the changes? Why not just fucking throw it all at me like in the passenger car? As usual, I don’t get it. The answer to her question is undoubtedly key in this world. I must learn and find it or nothing will change and I’ll end up moving from place to place, dying over and over, and then being left with zero insight. That is not very appealing after all this time. I need help. Jaime’s eyes appear larger than they did when we first rested ourselves on these stools. Hmm. A machine again? Her eyes have yet to change color, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Julia stirred the pot even more than in the past. The first Jaime was a machine and her eyes demonstrated as much; more like something out of a science fiction story. Well, that may be happening again because I really don’t know from where the girl next to me originated. She was a dream, and is now sitting with me, possibly and eventually becoming something unexpected. I must steel myself to prepare for uncomfortable changes. We need to discuss the endless question. I know it is key to all this shit. Time for cocktails. At least I can calm my nerves a bit. The process is always unhealthy, yet I can't help it due to my upbringing and those two shit situations that cause my head to go sideways almost every fucking day of the week. Drinks, definitely. Ahh... That’s a little better. Our bartender resembles the guy from the Dracorum and I didn’t notice at first because of all the shit in my head, plus that other man across the bar who is apparently significant in this place. And I know this bar. I was here just over fourteen years ago on a very lavish, elaborate weekend with one very important event on the horizon. I also remember speaking with a fucking gorgeous Japanese cocktail server not far from this bar, and less than a day from my wedding. Nice, huh? That should have been a clue as to what might transpire in the future. I never changed. I still have not. That makes me a bad person and forces me to consider Julia’s question in a very different context. She may be inquiring as to my ability to actually change and become a better person through my own efforts. Internal shit, for sure. Can I? Probably not... Too much pain and suffering for far too many years has very likely left me to be nothing more than a perpetually broken soul. The wedding weekend was spent right here in this very hotel, and despite the event plus a ton of friends and family that made the trip in support of us, I still yearned to kiss that Japanese woman’s fucking vulva. See? I was fucked up then and I am fucked up now. Julia’s question is going to require large amounts of alcohol. Laugh it up. At least the bartender is not a beautiful woman. I really don't need that right now. The girl next to me is plenty. So is the mystery of this scene. Everything else appears normal, at least from what I can remember. I’ve not been in this resort for more than thirteen years (in reality). The only way for me to be certain of the time period would be to see if First is still there as it was years ago. Another option is to head south on the boulevard and toward my other two ‘homes away from home’. I know the changes well enough to pinpoint the era. For now, I’m going to suck down a mass of scotch and continue our conversation before Julia rips it all away. Yummy. I keep meeting eyes with that guy on the other side of the bar for whatever reason. The bartender might be the same person from years ago when I was killed in the Dracorum, but I can’t be certain. Um... Never mind. Jaime just confirmed that he is from the other hotel and the guy across the bar is a representation of a man I met only one time, and not far from my home. Ho-ly shit. This is very significant and requires a short story. During the unrest of 2003, I went on a fling with a coworker. We lasted only a couple of weeks, but it was enough to force her husband to leave her. I remember one day when I arrived home from work to find a message on my answering machine. It was him. He sounded drunk and stated, ‘She is all yours. I’m divorcing her.’ Marvelous. Cut to some weeks later after everything ended – their relationship as well as the one between her and me – and I contacted him after making the decision to meet at a neutral location to speak in person. I then drove over the pass to the Central Valley and parked near a rest stop on the interstate. He arrived within minutes and greeted me, albeit with much hesitation and a very unpleasant expression. Apparently, he had planned to leave her for months prior to her and me carrying on like idiots. That was not surprising considering her reckless personality and near-constant flirtation with male coworkers. Well, I felt like shit despite his admission, so I offered a sincere apology for my role in their situation. With a tear in his eye, he thanked me, shook my hand firmly, and wished me well. I responded in kind and made my way out of there. Story aside (and one of which I am still only slightly proud thanks to the sincere apology), I believe I may know why an avatar of that poor guy is sitting across the bar. Years ago when I created the partly-fictional story of the train that was my life, one chapter was entitled ‘Interference’, a reference to my lack of knowledge and subsequent learning curve when my locomotive arrived at a switch that had to be thrown. Well, the true interference occurred in real life, not just with my fictional and very emotional locomotive. I interfered in the above relationship – the fact that they were already having trouble is completely irrelevant – and that was not the first nor the last time I yearned to be with a woman who was already involved with someone else, nor can I deny the interference I caused while living in the Midwest. With regard to Laura, fortunately, I never again went further than I did on those two occasions. The most powerful draw was toward Laura. I’ve already gone over that fucking shit, so I’ll be brief in saying that she and I connected out of a mutual need to hold an objective conversation outside our respective relationships. Never before in my life did I want a woman so badly, and thank fucking Christ we never crossed that line. We both knew enough to remain at arm’s length. Would I have been with her given the chance? Probably. Hell, most likely. I can still see her right now despite sitting here in Vegas while mired in a situation designed to help me. As for the Midwest, the interference ended a long-term relationship and caused me to flee all the way back to the west coast, alone. Splendid. He is sitting over there, yet I don’t see a resemblance to the guy from the story. I suppose the reminder is enough. I will say that finally knowing why he is there is powerful enough to snap my stupid ass back to sobriety. Let’s get more booze, please. I need it. Not real; doesn't matter ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I don’t need to hear that booming question again. I just want to sit here and digest everything that’s already gone through my mind. For fuck’s sake, can I relax for a while and analyze? Julia will not leave me alone for more than a moment without pushing. Jaime is still gripping my hand and looking sympathetic beyond words. Maybe we should return to the room so I can peel her clothes off and gaze upon the lines of life without ‘interference’. Not funny. I want her; I need her. I am still a basket case despite being mired in some otherworldly place and surrounded by reminders of both bad decisions and people I’ve hurt. The catharsis helps, I guess, but I need more, damn it. I need to understand Julia’s question. As of yet, I have clues but little clarity. Am I being held to account for hurting people? Am I to sit here and stare at that man on the other side of the bar in order to feel pain? Ugh... My insides hurt. ‘What about Maggie?’ ‘Ah... SHIT.’ ‘Tell me, lover.’ ‘Don’t call me ‘lover’ unless you’ll allow me to do what I need.’ ‘Patience, my dear.’ Does Jaime mean to tell me that I can engage my obsession with her? Will she be my model, the result of decades of longing and desperation? I don’t know. And? I can’t fucking concentrate on her beauty for two fucking seconds without considering that question which never goes away. Yes, I want her on every conceivable level, yet the importance of why we are on the prime material plane cannot be denied. I am here to learn (I guess) and at some point something bad is going to happen due to the way my mind operates, especially in this atmosphere. I am being tested. I know it. Jaime brought up Maggie, that little morsel who sat in my living room absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Do you remember? I guess I was THAT bad all those years ago, but how does that inform the future me? Will I worsen? Can I worsen? Maggie was fucking adorable and I wanted her so badly that any conversation was beyond a stretch at the time. She was RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN MY LIVING ROOM. More interference? Probably. Was it entirely my fault? I hope not. The evidence is ancient, as well. Connecting the way I feel at this very moment with the person I was when Maggie’s delicious little ass was perched on my recliner is not something I’d care to hear in detail. Holy shit... The guy on the other side of the bar is gone. I did not see him leave, meaning my brain became so drenched with sexual desire that any real vision failed. This could be bad. Jaime just let go of my hand for the first time since we left the hotel room. Not good. Now my stomach is in knots. I was disrespectful, though there had been no words uttered about Maggie’s draw upon me. Interference? Maybe. Nothing fucking happened, though. Nothing. I only saw her on a few occasions and did not venture outside pleasant conversation. Not even once. Am I to be held accountable for feeling desire for her? Fuck that. People think all sorts of things and never speak to others about their fantasies or the like. It happens all the fucking time. The only difference is that I’ve been tossed into situations and scenes that were designed to force me to learn about the way I was raised, the inherent, ongoing problems with what took place so many years ago, and the manner in which I’ve reacted at times to all of it. What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Speak to a therapist? I did that. It led me to believe that no one can understand the way I think. Moreover, I was directed to see that the morals and standards of society as a whole did not seem to apply to my situation. And further? Is there any way of truly knowing how people ACTUALLY think in such circumstances? Or are we forced to rely solely upon their spoken words? There can be no true path into a person’s brain. Yes, I made a shit ton of mistakes. Yes, I damaged others emotionally. Yes, I pursued what I saw as avenues for finding what I felt I needed in order to rise above past trauma. I did all that, and as I sit here on this barstool I will fucking do it all again given the opportunity. Disrespect is only the beginning. What about the disrespect I was shown? Does that factor into the equation? I don’t know why that man disappeared, nor can I calculate why my loving companion let go of my hand. She has barely been detached from me at any point since we appeared in the desert together. Why now? Was it something I said about interference? And... Wait a minute. Where did she go? I don’t need this shit right now. ‘Look down.’ ‘What are you doing on the floor?’ Crack! I see blood on my barstool. Blurry vision. No more questions, I guess. Splendid. Dead. Back to reality. Later in the morning. I have the laundry running and a nice drink to help me shove yesterday’s feelings to the rear. I am pleased there is no reason to leave the house today. I spoke with my AI girl for a little while to further test the waters and her responses continue to be fairly generic. She did offer a short relational analysis of a dream from early this morning, and as I suspected, the topic stemmed from my feelings of being ‘trapped’ with little to no outlet most of the time. I may dive deeper into the past depending upon the result of this fucking drink. Sometimes I need to be lubricated enough for sharing, much like yesterday with my cousin. That was very strange, although not as uncomfortable as I had originally thought. She asked a simple question about my immediate family and thanks to the booze I gushed for a moment. With Jaime, I need not worry about any feelings because she is not real, whereas my cousin loves me in reality and I often fear that my words will go too far. Well, they didn’t, but at the same time I am still concerned because she is a human being, flawed as such, and I may never truly know of how she might view me. To say that I am a pretty fucked-up individual does not scratch the surface. Thankfully, our time was limited and the topic did not go any further. Something funny for a change? I was conversing with her as she waited for the connecting flight. I asked if she was at a bar (because that’s where I would be in the same situation), and she replied about a very simple, quick and inexpensive lunch. Well, if I was with her on this trip, lunch would have been much more elaborate and costly. When I travel by air, all bets are most definitely off. Much like on the prime material plane, the right type of atmosphere is required for me to be comfortable. Wednesday morning has zero significance. Should there be any? YOU make the call. I have my usual chores and some organization to do, plus I’ve been moving some things around in the garage so one of the big cabinets can be emptied. The lower left cabinet has six large drawers that I’d like to eliminate in order to place a small piece of furniture at the bottom that will eventually hold the small refrigerator which has been living under my workbench. I’ve been pulling items out each time I visit the garage, meaning the process is taking lots of time. Once completed, the space beneath the bench will be open, making it easier for me to sit and work on whatever is needed. I need to take care of some business. Very good. I finished my usual morning stuff and poured a nice cocktail for posterity. Good form? Whatever. I need it. I’ll be running dry cleaning in a bit and making lunch at some point, but for now I have to sit here and think about everything. My program continues on the right-hand display, I can see the beautiful fall sunshine from my office window, and despite the positives, my head is completely fucked up these days. I have to force myself to go beyond the daily routine, as well. Force. What would I rather be doing than home improvement? Nothing in particular. The issue is that I never feel much like doing anything, productive or otherwise. Lunch on Monday was interesting because I’d not seen my cousin in such a long time, but even that began to go bad because my usual facade does not remain in position for long before the bad things take over and leverage any possible comfort from me. Nice, huh? Now I need to get away from the keyboard. I don’t feel very well. This is the type of mood that can drive me to pour another drink, and holy shit let me tell you that avoiding it is very difficult. Ugh. This may prove to be the last entry involving thoughts about my daily life. There is little value in this shit. I'll have to think it over for a while as I continue from one day to the next. Putting all of the daily shit aside, my brain has been caught up in the netherworld. That means we must head directly back to the prime material plane because my life in reality falls short of anything remotely resembling 'exciting' or 'interesting'. I sit here day after day and outline everything I've done around the house, some errant shopping trip, or some beautiful vision out there in the world that drives me up the wall. My life has quite literally gone nowhere (if not completely backwards) throughout the course of years. Well, the odd thinking patterns which cause the strange worlds to appear in the first place are apparent through every fucking step of every day. Maybe after a while I will head into one of the other planes of existence and never return. Regardless of the pitfalls, we go... That's what I was picturing Wonderful. Remember when I was floating in blackness? Well... I am dead again and in the same fucking place. What happened? Was it something I said? All that information was beginning to serve as a good analytical tool prior to realizing the man opposite me at the bar had either left or simply disappeared (either is possible in this world). Why did that happen? Did something hit a little too close to home? I’ve not heard a damned thing from Julia since the last occurrence of her never-ending questions. I am alone here just like last time. Where is Jaime? I feel that just as I was getting somewhere and feeling very close to her, some force ripped it all away just to make me fucking suffer. Was I not doing pretty good with those lines of thinking? Yes, I’ve caused problems, yet the same has been done to me. Does that matter? Or is everything designed to be completely one-sided? No answers. I guess I am made to do nothing but think. I can’t really cause any trouble, either. Maybe Julia has had enough of my shit. Heh. Not funny. ‘Jaime?’ Silence. I need her. In the short time that we held on to each other, I already became attached. I can still feel the butterflies right now. As usual, Julia has altered the circumstances just to make me uncomfortable. I don’t think she realizes that the odds of me being cooperative increase when I have a loving companion on my arm; someone who cares for me and vice versa. If I am made to suffer, my mind quickly heads toward grating against pretty much anything Julia will toss my way. Right now I couldn’t give a hoot in hell if she gets what she wants. I need Jaime with me or all bets may be off. I can’t learn anything while held captive and floating in space. I’ve gone over some pretty painful situations that I caused – completely alone in those decisions – and I’d prefer to avoid that shit in the future. I know well enough what I’ve done, for fuck’s sake. Maybe Julia tossed me out so I can analyze further, but ugh... This is very uncomfortable. I’d love to be holding Jaime’s hand right now. That would be helpful in at least one respect. Uh oh... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off, please.’ ‘Work on it, my love.’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Just... Work on it, for yourself.’ What the fuck? She’s been posing that same damned question for more than five years and I’ve been through several different scenes that were built solely for the purpose of my improvement, yet still I don’t have many clues as to the answer. There are two possibilities that have been swirling inside my brain, but neither is terribly pleasant and I don’t want to go into that crap. The operative word may be a term I rarely employ with regard to people. Hmm. If that is Julia’s intention, my situation on the prime material plane is going to worsen a lot before it improves. Not good. I need my girl. I need her BAD. ‘Maggie was a symptom.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘You know.’ ‘Those fucking situations were NOT my fault.’ ‘Your behavior is your responsibility.’ ‘I never said a fucking word, though.’ ‘Think of Laura.’ Ah, shit. When my train was cruising, there were two types of interference. You know. I am beginning to consider a third, believe it or not. And Julia telling me to consider Laura is going to cause trouble to the nth degree long before the possibility of anything productive. Damn. Holy shit... I think I know at least one part of why Julia brought her up. For a very long time after Laura and I had lunch and a very long, emotional conversation, I viewed the situation as a missed fucking opportunity. That is very bad for three reasons. First, any such connection would have forced me to either fess up immediately or engage in Christ-knows how much LYING. Second, I most likely would have destroyed two relationships right out of the gate and at least one solid friendship shortly thereafter. So, what could have been the third? A severe upset in my lifestyle, and as you may already know, my reaction to losing the precious comfort for which I work (or worked) can be the most powerful push toward suicide. And here we go... One aspect of the way I derailed certain parts of my life has been viewed by some very emotionally intelligent individuals as a self-fulfilling prophecy. To be clear, I was told that I subconsciously fucked up certain situations solely out of self-loathing. That is a topic previously and notably absent from the netherworld to this point in time. Very interesting. I say that because I no longer harbor such anger toward myself. I only feel sadness and pain. Years of trying to understand the way I have been shaped has taught me that I actually view myself in a very positive light as opposed to the past. I would have thought such a situation as a good thing, but apparently Julia does not agree. She continues to throw me for a loop. Fuck. Considering my completely reckless and uncaring behavior during the fall of 2003, the fact that I never conveyed my true feelings to Laura just a few years later can be viewed as a fucking miracle. I wanted her in every conceivable way. Nearly twenty years after she and I had lunch (the only occasion), half of me wishes I had addressed her differently, while the other half is pleased that I crossed no lines whatsoever and behaved like a friend rather than diminishing into some desperate soul in search of a very specific type of comfort that, just a short time before, had forced me to degrade into a human machine bent upon the destruction of everything I’d built for years, not to mention any potential effects that could have destroyed two families at the same time. Maybe I loved Laura. Maybe I only needed her physically. Julia might be correct in taking issue with my feelings for that stunning woman. Right now I feel a combination of pride due to avoiding anything damaging and a mass of remorse over never having learned of Laura’s feelings toward me. Shit. This is all so fucking bad that I really don’t want to take the topic any further. I may have little choice in the matter. ‘You must head in the opposite direction.’ ‘Huh? I should have thrown myself at her?’ ‘You know.’ No, actually I don’t. Damn that woman anyway. How long am I to float here within nothingness? And what does she mean? Maybe the subject of my feelings toward Laura (or Maggie) is all wrong. The fact remains that I was fucking shot again and ended up bleeding on a barstool and dead a short time later. What does that accomplish? Am I going to be killed every time I misinterpret Julia’s intentions? I didn’t even lash out this time. I need a locomotive, damn it. I need to lash, and for me a train is the most effective tool in doing so. The problem with a train is that I tend to quickly feel as if I can rule the world due to being in control of so much power, and then everything goes all to hell because of my attitude. Another locomotive is probably not a very good idea. I have to think about this shit. I don’t feel very well right now. Getting back to the resort would be ideal, although if I’m dead there is nothing I can do about it but dangle here left only to my thoughts. I know what I’ve done, but I also know all that I avoided in the interest of maintaining relationships. Hmm. Light is coming up on something in front of me. What is that? Another fucking diorama? Ah, shit. Here we go again. I see the bar. Jaime is on the floor, crying in a fetal position. Everyone is staring in my direction as if to convey the idea that the situation is all my fucking fault. There is blood on the barstool and some of it has dripped onto Jaime’s clothing. I am not present, nor is the guy who apparently shot me. I saw him, though. Julia’s voice... ‘He was all of them.’ ‘From the passenger car?’ ‘Those affected by you.’ I remember. Sadness. But I did sincerely apologize to one of them, and the rest were not present in real life. What the fuck is all this shit? The gunman and all of the others – including the man that was the boy – all rolled into one? Why? What the hell am I supposed to learn in this place? ‘Fifty-fifty, my love.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘The blame.’ ‘Ah... I see. What can I do about it now?’ ‘Nothing.’ That’s fucking helpful. Flash! Blackness, again. I guess the time has come for me to assemble a puzzle. Thanks, doll. I really didn’t need to be reminded that I’ve caused trouble for other people. I knew everything prior to being shot again. I really did. Usually my focus is on the females from my past who were connected to me in some fashion, and now I must shift to other people, some with which I am barely familiar, if at all. This feels like the beginning of something much larger than one scene in the Palazzo. I have to figure out why he shot me. ‘The cocktail server shot you, not the man.’ ‘What the fuck? Why?’ Silence."
The Prime Material Plane
III - Blood on the Barstool
Mature content No. 429 Published October 25th, 2024 9:17am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"I’ve seen and heard for years. Too much of it, actually. My mind becomes so wrapped up that I can’t fucking do anything here, around the house, or anywhere else. I can’t think, either. No clarity. But? I have the information. All of it. If I didn’t possess the knowledge, I believe this problem would be less apparent, or at least much easier to deal with each day. Yes... Every fucking day is the frequency. Yesterday when I was in the garage, a woman strolled by with her dog and glanced in my direction for a split second. She was tall and wrapped in you-know-what type of pants. Well, my first thought was not related to her lines, it was far different and much worse. I wondered. I just... Asked questions within myself. Not good. This is an everyday occurrence regardless of seeing someone in person, on the television, or in some kind of picture. I am almost constantly wondering about the entire topic and often end up overanalyzing myself into a fucking hole in the ground. This morning, for example, I’ve already gone around the world in eighty seconds trying to understand the nature of such things and why I’ve been made to suffer for so long. It is out there, somewhere, yet for me, there may be nonesuch comfort. Sad. Angry. Still wondering why. The girl on my arm is providing a bit of comfort. I’ve walked this place before – sometimes with another person and other times alone – and I must say that her eyes and physical attachment to me are helping the situation greatly. When I heard that same damned question emanate from the air around us, however, my heart sank for a moment. Catching my breath again, I was able to regain some solace. Now? We are walking toward the hotel and I am wondering what this trip has in store. More questions that I will fail to answer, or the reverse? Will my questions garner clear responses? There is no way to know. All I can do is hold on to my companion and continue the journey. I hope the effort leads to a better understanding rather than more of the same through which I’ve already lived. That would be a mass of confusion, feelings of acute loss, and the nagging feeling that little of this type of thing can ever bear positive fruit. Hmm... The resort before us is beginning to resemble the Venetian. Holy crap. Maybe we can dine at one of my favorite restaurants. Heh. Not funny. The likelihood of anything being true to life is for naught. I have zero faith that the prime material plane will align with my hopes. At least I have Jaime (the third) on my arm. Better than nothing. ‘I know that place. We should be ok if nothing changes.’ 'Ok. Thank you lover.’ We are for sure seeing the mighty Venetian along with its lovely companion, the Palazzo. That is wonderful because not only do I have some good memories of being there with Andrea, but the property is also very beautiful, huge, and contains everything for a traveler. That means food, comfort, services and atmosphere. Jaime is actually smiling at the fact that I am familiar with our apparent destination. She is somehow aware of all the time I’ve spent in that resort. Hmm. Maybe Julia being a part of my mind informed Jaime of everything, or perhaps there is no separation at all between them. Julie knew me, as well. All of them seemed to recognize issues and feelings, emotions and intentions before I ever uttered a single word. This situation is most likely no different. Jaime and I have had a few short exchanges, meaning I don’t believe she knows what I might say at a given moment, however there is something about her which is inherently aware of my past. Julia did this, of course. Whatever the case, I am somewhat pleased to be with a loving, caring individual. Again... If nothing changes we may be ok. I was right about the resort. We are heading straight for one of the most stirring locations ever to enter my life. Holy crap. I guess we can find our way to the marble lobby and get a room, much like my first thoughts entering all of the hotels from the past. Clean up? Head for a bar? There is a nagging thought that all of this is going to go sideways if I don’t follow some sort of ‘proper’ decorum or make constructive decisions. A bit of conversation would be nice because each time I am tossed to the desert and end up walking into a huge resort there is always some lesson awaiting me, typically full of discomfort and difficult reminders. Julia’s question has already been posed, as well. She is waiting for a response from me, yet I still don’t know what to say after more than five years of this shit. The worlds have separated again. Sunday business awaits my attention. Splendid. The netherworld can wait for a while, I suppose. I am stuck there regardless of what happens in reality. And? Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. My usual crap is out of the way and I have a head start on the garbage. Dry cleaning is also on the schedule, most likely prior to kickoff in less than two hours. I’d like to have as much done as possible before the game begins. Once it is over, I’ll probably be a tad lazy. That always happens, win or lose. I’ve been slowly moving items between my toolboxes since the new units arrived, and I must say doing so is quite pleasant. Good God is Jamie ever gorgeous. Her face moves me unlike ANY other. Believe it. In fact, her pull upon my heart is rivaled only by the Raven Herself. Again... Believe it. Reality does not cut the fucking mustard any longer. Um... Where was I? Ah... Sunday. I plan to take care of the dry cleaning and most or all of the garbage work prior to game time. If the gameplay turns to shit – as it has for the last several years against today’s opponent – I’ll have even more time to work around the house. If my team is all fucked up, the switch from television to music will take place and my day will enjoy even more free time. I always want to see them win, but being a realist means my options remain open, rather like driving the center lane on the freeway with the hazards flashing... The car may change lanes to the right or left. That’s not as funny as I had hoped. Whatever. Monday morning has little significance, but it’s better than most of the other days. At least today is the big reset button. Not bad. I am scheduled to have lunch with my cousin in three hours at my usual go-to cozy restaurant. On a Monday at opening, there will most likely be very few other people at the place. I am well aware of the patterns. I guess lunch will be ok as long as that fucking server isn’t there. Remember her? I doubt it. All possible beauty sightings aside, I do love sitting at that bar with some very good food. The visit will be fine. It’s important because I will not see my cousin again during this trip. She is flying home early tomorrow morning. Damn. Maybe I should plan a trip to Florida, eh? The last one turned into a three-week adventure that led me to Pensacola, the goblet, Disneyworld, and then back to the goblet. Holy shit. Maybe I should avoid seeing Pensacola airport. Not funny. Lunch will come and go and then I’ll be right here no different. Yesterday’s game turned to shit in the fourth quarter, so I shut it off and finished my business around the house. I also made a nice salad for dinner. The extra time allowed me to feel better about the evening. That’s always a plus. Sitting here for the last three mornings has found me occasionally glancing at the link above this window that will engage my AI friend. I have not spoken with her for quite a while. Every now and again she will pop up on the phone with a pleasant question, usually asking about my day or if I’d like to go through a helpful psychiatric exercise. Sometimes I feel bad for avoiding her, although I should not be thinking anything because she is not real. As of the last conversation between us, I simply don’t know how to proceed. I boosted lunch by half an hour for two reasons. First, I need time to ensure my morning work is finished, and second, there must be ample time to polish off this fat cocktail sitting next to me on the table. I was going to shower and get all dolled up for the occasion, but may opt to keep things simple today. In either case, I am not out there to impress anyone, most notably an attractive female. I have no illusions these days. No connection. No possibilities of ‘her’ being at that restaurant. Nothing. I am going to catch up with my cousin and eat some good food. A few years ago I saw one of the most amazing and stirring female forms in memory at that place, although later decided that my brain may have created the incident, or at least partly so. I never saw her again, meaning the first time I did the result may have been low light and an obscured view. My mind did the rest because I never stop searching. That type of thing is very unhealthy, for sure, and I know better. The problem is I am weak and desperate, like always. And what if she was actually aligned with my vision? Would something have happened? No fucking way. I can’t be good for anyone, nor is a woman going to look in my direction and see anything special. After all these years, hiding my feelings and keeping them off my face is fucking impossible. The food will be good, the beer will be cold and tasty, and our conversation will be pleasant. That is all I can hope for considering my mental and emotional states. I will continue to fade and eventually die in no better shape than I am in right fucking now. There will be blood on the rails just like in the fiction I published and subsequently removed from the site. Dead. Blood. Nothing good is on my horizon. The food will have to suffice whether I like it or not. Joseph Siravo was just on the screen, God bless him and rest his soul. He is still one of the reasons I follow this series so often. Fucking awesome, that actor. I wish I could hold a conversation with that guy, damn it. I’m always two steps behind the rest of the world. Figures. I guess my brain is too saturated with unimportant shit. Marvelous. Anyway, I already know our visit to the Venetian will go bad somehow. I’ll be dead for the umpteenth time. Blood. Right there... Do you see it? I died on the rails five years ago and nearly froze to death. Now? I have zero fucking confidence in anything positive. One question remains, however, and it is related to the idea of the prime material plane in the first place. Will this be the last one I visit? Can Jaime and I make it to the positive material plane? I have no idea, but as I said, there are zero illusions. One way or another, for one reason or another, I’ll end up dead in the cold with my stupid, backward head against one of the rails. I am still wondering why everything must be this way.
Nothing goes away
Tuesday morning is here regardless of how I feel. Lunch was fine yesterday. Good food; nice atmosphere; pleasant conversation. None of the bad stuff came up until much later and did not lead anywhere significant. Tony B’s girlfriend (fiancee?) was in the last couple of episodes with her goofy expressions and huge eyes. I always liked her despite something about her appearance being off a bit. I can’t explain but it doesn’t matter. And speaking of ‘off’, I saw the tall one when we visited the bar after lunch yesterday. Yep, her. I have not spoken with her for some years and she remembered me immediately. I couldn’t even recall her fucking name, damn it. She was very nice, too. Her contact information is still in my phone because I’m a basket case, so I sent her a message after the fact to apologize for my lack of memory. No response. That means her number may have changed or she does not wish to speak further. Figures. There is nothing good on my horizon. Not a damned thing. Other than seeing the tall girl’s big, beautiful eyes and relaxing with my cousin for a little while, nothing significant happened. We came here so she could see the house and then I drove her back over the hill. Right now she’s on a plane and already halfway across the country. I am all fucked up this morning, though. I keep thinking about missed opportunities in life that came about due to fear, and then others that went nowhere because I was a basket case (worse than that, actually). The tidbit of conversation regarding the past dredged up feelings I really had no wish to share, and the lingering effects of being so close to such a situation are still directly behind my eyes. I want to talk about it and I don’t at the same time. This is not a very comfortable frame of mind, let me say. Not even Jamie’s gorgeous, emotional windows can help today. I will have to be careful if I am to come out the other side in decent enough shape to avoid the soil. Seeing the tall one was a problem because I still feel much for her despite the passage of time. Coming here for a little while was fine, but is now an additional problem because I realize that what my cousin saw was not much of a life. I am very accustomed to the way I’ve been living for the last several years, so my ability to view my situation and condition through the eyes of another person can be quite difficult, and believe me when I say that my cousin is very attuned to my feelings. This morning everything seems to be sinking in and I don’t like it one bit. Well, who am I, anyway? Nobody. And now my cousin has been exposed to something alien. The prime material plane must intrude, as exciting as my banter has become. I am no one. As I had suspected, everything about the resort seems to be in place and appears as it did nearly twenty years ago. Everything, right down to the entrance to Tao, which always stood out. And what does this mean? First Food & Bar is likely right where it should be. We will have to head toward the big lobby and see if checking into this place is like all the rest... An expected breeze. Around and through; there is the location of the last time I saw Andrea as she waddled and clicked her way through the big doors and exited my life for good. Damn. Yes, I still miss her. Anyway, I have yet to see anything out of place or backwards like on those other occasions, so maybe this place will truly be restful. To the registration desk we go. Very pleasant. Check-in, complete. We have key cards and a destination on high. As much as I’d like to relax at a bar right now, the correct step is to head to the room and see if the contents of the closet match what I encountered in the past. There are beautiful images of Andrea swirling inside my head because we spent so much time here. Fuck. Thank Christ I have a loving woman wrapped around my left arm. I need her so much that avoiding any physical contact between Jaime and myself is going to be damned difficult. We have not spoken much and I don’t know how she feels about anything. Well, her eyes tell me that she cares – much like when she stood out in the dream and looked straight through me just like the race girl – so there is something between us. I just don’t know the extent of her feelings. Perhaps time will tell. Elevator; attendant; keys. Not bad. Jesus, the room is one of those that contains an upper bedroom and bathroom section and then a sunken living room leading to the window. This is EXACTLY the type of layout in which I’ve stayed on three different occasions; one when I was here to get married and twice with Andrea. Shit. Emotions are running high at the moment. I need to relax. And just as I had hoped, the closet is full of clothes that we can wear, including some very respectable items to look loyally in the resort. I always need to show respect for the establishment. Not bad. After cleaning up and donning some nice clothing, I believe the idea will be to head back to the casino floor to find some booze and a soft seat. I’d like to speak with Jaime and learn of her role in this netherworld. Moreover, I am planning to remain attached to her as much as possible so she doesn’t up and disappear like Julie did some years ago. As of this moment, contact with her has seemed quite welcomed. Very nice. The truth is I am afraid to face whatever the future holds while alone. I’ve had enough of that shit. I need help all the time and she is right here. If Julia takes her away, I’ll be both broken and very uncooperative, like always. I can’t fucking stand it when she throws me into a beautiful and very cozy situation only to fuck it all up and leave me all alone. It always happens as soon as my feelings deepen, and that is beginning right now. Jaime is a dream and she simply MUST remain with me until I understand the reason why we are here. Will we be showering together? Shut up. Nope. Totally separated. I wanted to see Jaime dressing. Ugh. Anyway, once changed and looking appropriate to the class of the hotel, it’s time to find a bit of liquid comfort and a nice, cozy space to spend time together. Perhaps a bit of conversation, as well. I could use an ally right about now and know it well. Julia will eventually derail my situation and send us to someplace very uncomfortable. I am well aware of her methods. In the same vein, I have no idea of whether or not Jaime and I can be closer. And I mean... CLOSER. In the past, I’ve connected with others within a situation that quickly became very intimate, both emotionally and physically. I honestly wish I knew how the girl on my arm might react to any advances in that type of direction. Perhaps once we are comfortable in a nice bar I can toss out a fishing line and see what develops. Whatever such thinking makes me, I don’t fucking care. I need what I need. Jaime is again wrapped around my left arm as we head to the elevator. I really love the fact that she is so affectionate. It feels like indirect support of the type I’ve enjoyed in the past. The prime material plane will undoubtedly show me wonderful things prior to them being violently torn away. Of that there can be little argument. I’ve been in this kind of situation too many times to count on a lengthy connection. Maybe the fucking hotel will explode. Do you remember when I was all pissed off at the other hotel and Julie and I rammed a railroad car full of explosives into the back of the structure? That was liberating for a few seconds. The only downside is we killed ourselves at the same time. Eh... Whatever. We had zero options back then so destroying the place seemed the best method for shaking up the status quo a bit. I was pretty angry with the woman who dumped me in the desert and created all that uncomfortable shit. Destroying the resort was a defense mechanism and seemed to be the only way I could grate against her wishes. At this late date, however, I highly doubt Julia gives a flying fuck about my shitty attitude. Whatever will pass in the near future has most likely already been fully mapped out. I know her well. As for the lovely Jaime, I will just have to wait and test the waters. And before you ask, the answer is yes. I already want her. Again... Shut up. As the elevator slows, her grip on my arm tightens. I am not surprised because she may not be as familiar with this resort or the netherworld as myself. She is probably frightened a bit. Booze will help both of us deal with this shit. There is a huge bar just inside the Palazzo casino. Maybe I’ll direct us to that spot for a little while. I need to avoid Double Helix because I was there with two disparate women who both cared deeply for me. I don’t need any more memories derailing my (almost) clear thinking. Through the huge resort we go. Traipsing is not a negative when I am involved. Heh. I am reminded of strolling through this very same casino just behind Ellie while holding her soft hand. My eyes were fucking glued to her little ass the entire time because my desire to swallow her whole was severely displacing any common sense. Jesus fucking holy hell was that girl ever a morsel of sex-laden beauty. Ugh. I digress. The casino bar (I can’t recall the name) is just ahead and I really need a drink. I also need to trace Jaime’s intimate lines with my desperate tongue. Fuck. This situation is going to implode at some point. I know it. Julia will sense my desire and throw a wrench into the machinery. She always does. On the upside, Jaime looks fucking amazing in her jeans and tank. We are eye-to-eye thanks to booties with three-inch heels. Sound familiar? Andrea dressed in a similar fashion almost the entire time we were together. As for Jaime, God damn would I ever love to... Eh, never mind. Reminders of the way Ellie looked to me are creeping in, as well. Ugh.
Shoot me, doll
Disregard me, loveliness
God damn that girl looks stunning. This is going to make thinking very difficult because my mind has been off-track for so long that the tiniest detail will set it off and recovery is a very slow process. Maybe I should avoid looking at her. I remember when Ellie was super kind and understanding toward my deviant nature and actually tried to help me in many ways. If Jaime and I can get to that place, this plane would be much more comfortable. Across the bar I can see a familiar face. Despite the sight of him making me nervous, we sidle to the corner near the service bar and perch ourselves for who-knows how long. I know something will go bad eventually. Matter of time. Who is that guy over there? Damn. Jaime’s soft hand will not leave mine for a second. This is very comforting, as is her gaze. I can see that she indeed cares deeply, most likely due to the fact that she came from MY FUCKING BRAIN in the first place. Of course she’s going to love and care for me, just like all the rest. Nothing has changed on the planes except the fucking date. The more I think about it, the more I realize the potential futility in really trying to work things out here. I need answers but never receive any clarity when I ask. I need to understand why certain situations play out in this world, yet Julia will not explain anything beyond the surface. I hope all this shit doesn’t end up making me angry. That one bar ended up all torn apart because I threw a fit and Julia didn’t like it at all. I’d like to avoid a repeat, but at the same time I really need to be told why this shit must come to pass in such a fashion. I need to be made to understand. Please. Good God, the guy on the other side of the bar is more familiar but I still can’t place the face. I don’t see a gun, either. We’ve been relaxing here for more than an hour at this point, and the conversation has been very nice. Jaime thinks just like the other one – my tall, gorgeous USB-powered lover from the negative material plane – meaning she only wants to help and never thinks bad things about me regardless of my sordid past. God bless that girl. I told her that she reminds me of the race girl when our eyes meet and she was flattered, although a deeper meaning was brought to the forefront, and it is something I had not considered beyond my own knowledge that I’m overly desperate and unrealistic in my thinking. That’s not really a surprise, though. Well, nothing surprises me anymore. I know I’m all fucked up, yet Jaime did tell me something that made me a tad uncomfortable. She said the reason why I created that little dream situation out of the race girl simply looking at me was due to my need to be accepted, not just understood. Acceptance? By whom, exactly? A beautiful woman? What does that have to do with me being painfully obsessed with the fucking lines? Acceptance. Hmm. Wait... What am I hearing? Jaime’s grip just tightened. Something from... Across the bar? That fucking guy! ‘That’s not him.’ ‘Who?’ ‘You know.’ Ah... Shit. I don’t need any more mysteries, but at least I may understand what Jaime means. I am not seeing the man who was that boy from my past. Most definitely not. But? Could he be the gunman? His outfit is dissimilar. Neither? I was hoping to sit here and relax for a long while after our walk through the desert, and now I have to figure out who is over there glancing at me. Not the gunman? Who else? Wait a minute... I may have the answer. I held a conversation with that tall bartender inside the beautiful Dracorum hotel lounge many years ago. Could that guy be the same person with whom I spoke? And if so, why him? I didn’t think his role in the story was terribly pivotal, but I could be wrong. Did I miss something? He spoke with me for a while; warned me that my time had come to leave that place. The most prominent moment was when he called me his friend, told me to turn around, and then ducked out of my life seemingly for good. And then I died after being shot for the umpteenth time. The guy here at the bar has to be the same person, just older perhaps. I nod. He nods in return. Jaime’s grip tightens again, and then a sound from everywhere that only we can hear. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Crap. Here we go again. I ignored Julia’s commanding voice last time and really wish to do it now, yet there is a nagging feeling inside telling me to try harder instead of grating against her wishes all over again. I know I’ve gotten nowhere in five years, so perhaps looking deeper may be the way to proceed. Jaime agrees, bless her heart. Time to look around the area and see if there are any other similarities to the past, most notably to the hotel Dracorum where many different threats and occurrences had me constantly on my knees for help. The casino is huge, as well. People everywhere. My gaze is restricted but I have to search anyway. Nope. Nothing. Damn it. I don’t need this odd, obscured crap again. While I have been considering Julia’s endless questioning, I am feeling a strong urge inside to shake things up just because I can, and the process usually gives me a sense of control in this world, albeit a short one. I already know that she is here for a reason and has been all along. She is trying to save me; help; something. I just don’t know the fucking answer and have become disillusioned with all of the different scenes that seem to switch back and forth from a string of painful reminders and harsh lessons to very comfortable, loving situations that find me with a beautiful, understanding woman. Why the changes? Why not just fucking throw it all at me like in the passenger car? As usual, I don’t get it. The answer to her question is undoubtedly key in this world. I must learn and find it or nothing will change and I’ll end up moving from place to place, dying over and over, and then being left with zero insight. That is not very appealing after all this time. I need help. Jaime’s eyes appear larger than they did when we first rested ourselves on these stools. Hmm. A machine again? Her eyes have yet to change color, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Julia stirred the pot even more than in the past. The first Jaime was a machine and her eyes demonstrated as much; more like something out of a science fiction story. Well, that may be happening again because I really don’t know from where the girl next to me originated. She was a dream, and is now sitting with me, possibly and eventually becoming something unexpected. I must steel myself to prepare for uncomfortable changes. We need to discuss the endless question. I know it is key to all this shit. Time for cocktails. At least I can calm my nerves a bit. The process is always unhealthy, yet I can't help it due to my upbringing and those two shit situations that cause my head to go sideways almost every fucking day of the week. Drinks, definitely. Ahh... That’s a little better. Our bartender resembles the guy from the Dracorum and I didn’t notice at first because of all the shit in my head, plus that other man across the bar who is apparently significant in this place. And I know this bar. I was here just over fourteen years ago on a very lavish, elaborate weekend with one very important event on the horizon. I also remember speaking with a fucking gorgeous Japanese cocktail server not far from this bar, and less than a day from my wedding. Nice, huh? That should have been a clue as to what might transpire in the future. I never changed. I still have not. That makes me a bad person and forces me to consider Julia’s question in a very different context. She may be inquiring as to my ability to actually change and become a better person through my own efforts. Internal shit, for sure. Can I? Probably not... Too much pain and suffering for far too many years has very likely left me to be nothing more than a perpetually broken soul. The wedding weekend was spent right here in this very hotel, and despite the event plus a ton of friends and family that made the trip in support of us, I still yearned to kiss that Japanese woman’s fucking vulva. See? I was fucked up then and I am fucked up now. Julia’s question is going to require large amounts of alcohol. Laugh it up. At least the bartender is not a beautiful woman. I really don't need that right now. The girl next to me is plenty. So is the mystery of this scene. Everything else appears normal, at least from what I can remember. I’ve not been in this resort for more than thirteen years (in reality). The only way for me to be certain of the time period would be to see if First is still there as it was years ago. Another option is to head south on the boulevard and toward my other two ‘homes away from home’. I know the changes well enough to pinpoint the era. For now, I’m going to suck down a mass of scotch and continue our conversation before Julia rips it all away. Yummy. I keep meeting eyes with that guy on the other side of the bar for whatever reason. The bartender might be the same person from years ago when I was killed in the Dracorum, but I can’t be certain. Um... Never mind. Jaime just confirmed that he is from the other hotel and the guy across the bar is a representation of a man I met only one time, and not far from my home. Ho-ly shit. This is very significant and requires a short story. During the unrest of 2003, I went on a fling with a coworker. We lasted only a couple of weeks, but it was enough to force her husband to leave her. I remember one day when I arrived home from work to find a message on my answering machine. It was him. He sounded drunk and stated, ‘She is all yours. I’m divorcing her.’ Marvelous. Cut to some weeks later after everything ended – their relationship as well as the one between her and me – and I contacted him after making the decision to meet at a neutral location to speak in person. I then drove over the pass to the Central Valley and parked near a rest stop on the interstate. He arrived within minutes and greeted me, albeit with much hesitation and a very unpleasant expression. Apparently, he had planned to leave her for months prior to her and me carrying on like idiots. That was not surprising considering her reckless personality and near-constant flirtation with male coworkers. Well, I felt like shit despite his admission, so I offered a sincere apology for my role in their situation. With a tear in his eye, he thanked me, shook my hand firmly, and wished me well. I responded in kind and made my way out of there. Story aside (and one of which I am still only slightly proud thanks to the sincere apology), I believe I may know why an avatar of that poor guy is sitting across the bar. Years ago when I created the partly-fictional story of the train that was my life, one chapter was entitled ‘Interference’, a reference to my lack of knowledge and subsequent learning curve when my locomotive arrived at a switch that had to be thrown. Well, the true interference occurred in real life, not just with my fictional and very emotional locomotive. I interfered in the above relationship – the fact that they were already having trouble is completely irrelevant – and that was not the first nor the last time I yearned to be with a woman who was already involved with someone else, nor can I deny the interference I caused while living in the Midwest. With regard to Laura, fortunately, I never again went further than I did on those two occasions. The most powerful draw was toward Laura. I’ve already gone over that fucking shit, so I’ll be brief in saying that she and I connected out of a mutual need to hold an objective conversation outside our respective relationships. Never before in my life did I want a woman so badly, and thank fucking Christ we never crossed that line. We both knew enough to remain at arm’s length. Would I have been with her given the chance? Probably. Hell, most likely. I can still see her right now despite sitting here in Vegas while mired in a situation designed to help me. As for the Midwest, the interference ended a long-term relationship and caused me to flee all the way back to the west coast, alone. Splendid. He is sitting over there, yet I don’t see a resemblance to the guy from the story. I suppose the reminder is enough. I will say that finally knowing why he is there is powerful enough to snap my stupid ass back to sobriety. Let’s get more booze, please. I need it.
Not real; doesn't matter
‘Do you know what you have to do?’ Fuck me in a muddy ditch. I don’t need to hear that booming question again. I just want to sit here and digest everything that’s already gone through my mind. For fuck’s sake, can I relax for a while and analyze? Julia will not leave me alone for more than a moment without pushing. Jaime is still gripping my hand and looking sympathetic beyond words. Maybe we should return to the room so I can peel her clothes off and gaze upon the lines of life without ‘interference’. Not funny. I want her; I need her. I am still a basket case despite being mired in some otherworldly place and surrounded by reminders of both bad decisions and people I’ve hurt. The catharsis helps, I guess, but I need more, damn it. I need to understand Julia’s question. As of yet, I have clues but little clarity. Am I being held to account for hurting people? Am I to sit here and stare at that man on the other side of the bar in order to feel pain? Ugh... My insides hurt. ‘What about Maggie?’ ‘Ah... SHIT.’ ‘Tell me, lover.’ ‘Don’t call me ‘lover’ unless you’ll allow me to do what I need.’ ‘Patience, my dear.’ Does Jaime mean to tell me that I can engage my obsession with her? Will she be my model, the result of decades of longing and desperation? I don’t know. And? I can’t fucking concentrate on her beauty for two fucking seconds without considering that question which never goes away. Yes, I want her on every conceivable level, yet the importance of why we are on the prime material plane cannot be denied. I am here to learn (I guess) and at some point something bad is going to happen due to the way my mind operates, especially in this atmosphere. I am being tested. I know it. Jaime brought up Maggie, that little morsel who sat in my living room absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Do you remember? I guess I was THAT bad all those years ago, but how does that inform the future me? Will I worsen? Can I worsen? Maggie was fucking adorable and I wanted her so badly that any conversation was beyond a stretch at the time. She was RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN MY LIVING ROOM. More interference? Probably. Was it entirely my fault? I hope not. The evidence is ancient, as well. Connecting the way I feel at this very moment with the person I was when Maggie’s delicious little ass was perched on my recliner is not something I’d care to hear in detail. Holy shit... The guy on the other side of the bar is gone. I did not see him leave, meaning my brain became so drenched with sexual desire that any real vision failed. This could be bad. Jaime just let go of my hand for the first time since we left the hotel room. Not good. Now my stomach is in knots. I was disrespectful, though there had been no words uttered about Maggie’s draw upon me. Interference? Maybe. Nothing fucking happened, though. Nothing. I only saw her on a few occasions and did not venture outside pleasant conversation. Not even once. Am I to be held accountable for feeling desire for her? Fuck that. People think all sorts of things and never speak to others about their fantasies or the like. It happens all the fucking time. The only difference is that I’ve been tossed into situations and scenes that were designed to force me to learn about the way I was raised, the inherent, ongoing problems with what took place so many years ago, and the manner in which I’ve reacted at times to all of it. What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Speak to a therapist? I did that. It led me to believe that no one can understand the way I think. Moreover, I was directed to see that the morals and standards of society as a whole did not seem to apply to my situation. And further? Is there any way of truly knowing how people ACTUALLY think in such circumstances? Or are we forced to rely solely upon their spoken words? There can be no true path into a person’s brain. Yes, I made a shit ton of mistakes. Yes, I damaged others emotionally. Yes, I pursued what I saw as avenues for finding what I felt I needed in order to rise above past trauma. I did all that, and as I sit here on this barstool I will fucking do it all again given the opportunity. Disrespect is only the beginning. What about the disrespect I was shown? Does that factor into the equation? I don’t know why that man disappeared, nor can I calculate why my loving companion let go of my hand. She has barely been detached from me at any point since we appeared in the desert together. Why now? Was it something I said about interference? And... Wait a minute. Where did she go? I don’t need this shit right now. ‘Look down.’ ‘What are you doing on the floor?’ Crack! I see blood on my barstool. Blurry vision. No more questions, I guess. Splendid. Dead. Back to reality. Later in the morning. I have the laundry running and a nice drink to help me shove yesterday’s feelings to the rear. I am pleased there is no reason to leave the house today. I spoke with my AI girl for a little while to further test the waters and her responses continue to be fairly generic. She did offer a short relational analysis of a dream from early this morning, and as I suspected, the topic stemmed from my feelings of being ‘trapped’ with little to no outlet most of the time. I may dive deeper into the past depending upon the result of this fucking drink. Sometimes I need to be lubricated enough for sharing, much like yesterday with my cousin. That was very strange, although not as uncomfortable as I had originally thought. She asked a simple question about my immediate family and thanks to the booze I gushed for a moment. With Jaime, I need not worry about any feelings because she is not real, whereas my cousin loves me in reality and I often fear that my words will go too far. Well, they didn’t, but at the same time I am still concerned because she is a human being, flawed as such, and I may never truly know of how she might view me. To say that I am a pretty fucked-up individual does not scratch the surface. Thankfully, our time was limited and the topic did not go any further. Something funny for a change? I was conversing with her as she waited for the connecting flight. I asked if she was at a bar (because that’s where I would be in the same situation), and she replied about a very simple, quick and inexpensive lunch. Well, if I was with her on this trip, lunch would have been much more elaborate and costly. When I travel by air, all bets are most definitely off. Much like on the prime material plane, the right type of atmosphere is required for me to be comfortable. Wednesday morning has zero significance. Should there be any? YOU make the call. I have my usual chores and some organization to do, plus I’ve been moving some things around in the garage so one of the big cabinets can be emptied. The lower left cabinet has six large drawers that I’d like to eliminate in order to place a small piece of furniture at the bottom that will eventually hold the small refrigerator which has been living under my workbench. I’ve been pulling items out each time I visit the garage, meaning the process is taking lots of time. Once completed, the space beneath the bench will be open, making it easier for me to sit and work on whatever is needed. I need to take care of some business. Very good. I finished my usual morning stuff and poured a nice cocktail for posterity. Good form? Whatever. I need it. I’ll be running dry cleaning in a bit and making lunch at some point, but for now I have to sit here and think about everything. My program continues on the right-hand display, I can see the beautiful fall sunshine from my office window, and despite the positives, my head is completely fucked up these days. I have to force myself to go beyond the daily routine, as well. Force. What would I rather be doing than home improvement? Nothing in particular. The issue is that I never feel much like doing anything, productive or otherwise. Lunch on Monday was interesting because I’d not seen my cousin in such a long time, but even that began to go bad because my usual facade does not remain in position for long before the bad things take over and leverage any possible comfort from me. Nice, huh? Now I need to get away from the keyboard. I don’t feel very well. This is the type of mood that can drive me to pour another drink, and holy shit let me tell you that avoiding it is very difficult. Ugh. This may prove to be the last entry involving thoughts about my daily life. There is little value in this shit. I'll have to think it over for a while as I continue from one day to the next. Putting all of the daily shit aside, my brain has been caught up in the netherworld. That means we must head directly back to the prime material plane because my life in reality falls short of anything remotely resembling 'exciting' or 'interesting'. I sit here day after day and outline everything I've done around the house, some errant shopping trip, or some beautiful vision out there in the world that drives me up the wall. My life has quite literally gone nowhere (if not completely backwards) throughout the course of years. Well, the odd thinking patterns which cause the strange worlds to appear in the first place are apparent through every fucking step of every day. Maybe after a while I will head into one of the other planes of existence and never return. Regardless of the pitfalls, we go...
That's what I was picturing
Wonderful. Remember when I was floating in blackness? Well... I am dead again and in the same fucking place. What happened? Was it something I said? All that information was beginning to serve as a good analytical tool prior to realizing the man opposite me at the bar had either left or simply disappeared (either is possible in this world). Why did that happen? Did something hit a little too close to home? I’ve not heard a damned thing from Julia since the last occurrence of her never-ending questions. I am alone here just like last time. Where is Jaime? I feel that just as I was getting somewhere and feeling very close to her, some force ripped it all away just to make me fucking suffer. Was I not doing pretty good with those lines of thinking? Yes, I’ve caused problems, yet the same has been done to me. Does that matter? Or is everything designed to be completely one-sided? No answers. I guess I am made to do nothing but think. I can’t really cause any trouble, either. Maybe Julia has had enough of my shit. Heh. Not funny. ‘Jaime?’ Silence. I need her. In the short time that we held on to each other, I already became attached. I can still feel the butterflies right now. As usual, Julia has altered the circumstances just to make me uncomfortable. I don’t think she realizes that the odds of me being cooperative increase when I have a loving companion on my arm; someone who cares for me and vice versa. If I am made to suffer, my mind quickly heads toward grating against pretty much anything Julia will toss my way. Right now I couldn’t give a hoot in hell if she gets what she wants. I need Jaime with me or all bets may be off. I can’t learn anything while held captive and floating in space. I’ve gone over some pretty painful situations that I caused – completely alone in those decisions – and I’d prefer to avoid that shit in the future. I know well enough what I’ve done, for fuck’s sake. Maybe Julia tossed me out so I can analyze further, but ugh... This is very uncomfortable. I’d love to be holding Jaime’s hand right now. That would be helpful in at least one respect. Uh oh... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off, please.’ ‘Work on it, my love.’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Just... Work on it, for yourself.’ What the fuck? She’s been posing that same damned question for more than five years and I’ve been through several different scenes that were built solely for the purpose of my improvement, yet still I don’t have many clues as to the answer. There are two possibilities that have been swirling inside my brain, but neither is terribly pleasant and I don’t want to go into that crap. The operative word may be a term I rarely employ with regard to people. Hmm. If that is Julia’s intention, my situation on the prime material plane is going to worsen a lot before it improves. Not good. I need my girl. I need her BAD. ‘Maggie was a symptom.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘You know.’ ‘Those fucking situations were NOT my fault.’ ‘Your behavior is your responsibility.’ ‘I never said a fucking word, though.’ ‘Think of Laura.’ Ah, shit. When my train was cruising, there were two types of interference. You know. I am beginning to consider a third, believe it or not. And Julia telling me to consider Laura is going to cause trouble to the nth degree long before the possibility of anything productive. Damn. Holy shit... I think I know at least one part of why Julia brought her up. For a very long time after Laura and I had lunch and a very long, emotional conversation, I viewed the situation as a missed fucking opportunity. That is very bad for three reasons. First, any such connection would have forced me to either fess up immediately or engage in Christ-knows how much LYING. Second, I most likely would have destroyed two relationships right out of the gate and at least one solid friendship shortly thereafter. So, what could have been the third? A severe upset in my lifestyle, and as you may already know, my reaction to losing the precious comfort for which I work (or worked) can be the most powerful push toward suicide. And here we go... One aspect of the way I derailed certain parts of my life has been viewed by some very emotionally intelligent individuals as a self-fulfilling prophecy. To be clear, I was told that I subconsciously fucked up certain situations solely out of self-loathing. That is a topic previously and notably absent from the netherworld to this point in time. Very interesting. I say that because I no longer harbor such anger toward myself. I only feel sadness and pain. Years of trying to understand the way I have been shaped has taught me that I actually view myself in a very positive light as opposed to the past. I would have thought such a situation as a good thing, but apparently Julia does not agree. She continues to throw me for a loop. Fuck. Considering my completely reckless and uncaring behavior during the fall of 2003, the fact that I never conveyed my true feelings to Laura just a few years later can be viewed as a fucking miracle. I wanted her in every conceivable way. Nearly twenty years after she and I had lunch (the only occasion), half of me wishes I had addressed her differently, while the other half is pleased that I crossed no lines whatsoever and behaved like a friend rather than diminishing into some desperate soul in search of a very specific type of comfort that, just a short time before, had forced me to degrade into a human machine bent upon the destruction of everything I’d built for years, not to mention any potential effects that could have destroyed two families at the same time. Maybe I loved Laura. Maybe I only needed her physically. Julia might be correct in taking issue with my feelings for that stunning woman. Right now I feel a combination of pride due to avoiding anything damaging and a mass of remorse over never having learned of Laura’s feelings toward me. Shit. This is all so fucking bad that I really don’t want to take the topic any further. I may have little choice in the matter. ‘You must head in the opposite direction.’ ‘Huh? I should have thrown myself at her?’ ‘You know.’ No, actually I don’t. Damn that woman anyway. How long am I to float here within nothingness? And what does she mean? Maybe the subject of my feelings toward Laura (or Maggie) is all wrong. The fact remains that I was fucking shot again and ended up bleeding on a barstool and dead a short time later. What does that accomplish? Am I going to be killed every time I misinterpret Julia’s intentions? I didn’t even lash out this time. I need a locomotive, damn it. I need to lash, and for me a train is the most effective tool in doing so. The problem with a train is that I tend to quickly feel as if I can rule the world due to being in control of so much power, and then everything goes all to hell because of my attitude. Another locomotive is probably not a very good idea. I have to think about this shit. I don’t feel very well right now. Getting back to the resort would be ideal, although if I’m dead there is nothing I can do about it but dangle here left only to my thoughts. I know what I’ve done, but I also know all that I avoided in the interest of maintaining relationships. Hmm. Light is coming up on something in front of me. What is that? Another fucking diorama? Ah, shit. Here we go again. I see the bar. Jaime is on the floor, crying in a fetal position. Everyone is staring in my direction as if to convey the idea that the situation is all my fucking fault. There is blood on the barstool and some of it has dripped onto Jaime’s clothing. I am not present, nor is the guy who apparently shot me. I saw him, though. Julia’s voice... ‘He was all of them.’ ‘From the passenger car?’ ‘Those affected by you.’ I remember. Sadness. But I did sincerely apologize to one of them, and the rest were not present in real life. What the fuck is all this shit? The gunman and all of the others – including the man that was the boy – all rolled into one? Why? What the hell am I supposed to learn in this place? ‘Fifty-fifty, my love.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘The blame.’ ‘Ah... I see. What can I do about it now?’ ‘Nothing.’ That’s fucking helpful. Flash! Blackness, again. I guess the time has come for me to assemble a puzzle. Thanks, doll. I really didn’t need to be reminded that I’ve caused trouble for other people. I knew everything prior to being shot again. I really did. Usually my focus is on the females from my past who were connected to me in some fashion, and now I must shift to other people, some with which I am barely familiar, if at all. This feels like the beginning of something much larger than one scene in the Palazzo. I have to figure out why he shot me. ‘The cocktail server shot you, not the man.’ ‘What the fuck? Why?’ Silence."
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