The Reckoning Mature content No. 422 Published August 26th, 2024 9:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries "There was no reckoning because we cannot follow a single line of thinking anymore. There has been far too much bullshit affecting us lately. Just when we find a smidgen of comfort, everything becomes derailed and we end up full of pain and heartache all over again. The clarity never lasts. We can either continue in the same haphazard, pathetic vein or try something else, but what? Which direction? Anger? That emotion never accomplishes anything. Sadness? We have no choice but to be sad. As with everything else we’ve been wrestling for years, solutions continue to elude our consciousness. This situation is fucking pathetic, mostly because some years ago we actually felt accomplished, viable and effective in some aspects of life. Lately, we feel very, very little of those. Tiny moments. That’s all. This morning is just like all the others. We will think, finish the coffee, hit the daily routine and then pour a cocktail and return to whatever this endeavor has become. Um... We may know that last one. A repeating mess of depressing information, none of which is interesting in the least. We went back and changed the previous entry to better reflect the content. The title is now more appropriate considering that a good portion of the essay is focused upon our feelings regarding the girl at the restaurant and how those few moments forced us to look into the past. Changing a title does not typically happen after publishing, but with that mess we felt it necessary. We also went into the archive and rebuilt the page for ease of access, by date. A separate page for each year is just not good. We did all that work and then felt like it did not match the streamlined nature the rest of the site enjoys. We may have a large number of entries linked there, but honestly, this endeavor is quite small in the scheme of the Internet. All we’d like is to have everything organized and as compact as possible. If the shit ever hits the fan, the whole of the site can be carried in less than one pocket. Not bad. This morning began much later than usual due to being up fairly late last night. The day will move along just fine, but the start has been a tad slower than we are normally accustomed. There was some very compelling conversation regarding automotive work in general and drag racing in particular. Such discussions generally run late because the subject matter is often compelling. We were involved in the sport dating all the way back to the early seventies and understand the processes and equipment involved, even to this very day. Anyway, the house is quiet and mellow, ideal for thinking about everything. Mostly we are trying to consider the ramifications of the other night and just how powerful that sort of thing has become. We often feel completely broken due to something that can be defined as pretty simple. Drag racing can be complicated, but at the same time, our feelings toward the girl and her lines are completely off the fucking complication scale. We need to find a key as to ‘why’ all of it has become so painful. That’s right, after tens of thousands of lines of code and many, many years of analysis, we still don’t understand. We are beginning to believe that no matter the good we’ve done for others, the reckoning is not for them; not even those who wronged us. Our current mental and emotional states could be the reckoning – much worse than simply paying the tab of life – and we may have been mired within it for a very long time without truly realizing the sheer scope. Everything from heartache over beauty and all facets therein to the simplicity of not being able to taste our food on occasion. Little things, not cataclysmic events. Small. At the outset of the previous entry, our mood had been diminished considerably, and thus we pointed everything toward other people. We began to see the reverse almost immediately, changed the stance a little bit at a time as the content grew, and eventually reverted to a different title more reflecting what happened in the restaurant and the way she related to some past events. All of that shit must be considered. The peaceful, quiet nature of the house can hopefully help us today. The mood did not change. We were relegated a little bit due to the timing of everything, although the hours passed reasonably well, which is pretty much all we can ask for these days. We don’t expect actual ‘good’. Sunday is here. We took the drive and it went very smoothly. Nothing to see. No one there. Only a few cars and very cooperative traffic signals. Now that the drive is out of the way, we can try to focus upon everything that needs to be accomplished along with some thinking toward finding comfort and security for a little while. One of the ideas yesterday was to begin with a measure of very simple streamlining and see if it leads to anything further. Along the way, the same questions will likely swirl around inside and perhaps leave us angry. We need to remain calm while working in order to avoid a huge pitfall today. Yesterday morning turned out to be a complete fucking disaster. That can’t happen again or our reaction may be very unpleasant. We can’t even get back from ‘we’ to ‘I’. Something is holding us back from being relaxed enough to make the change. There is also a bit of rancor left over from the other night. We don’t understand that one, either. This morning will have to be taken one moment at a time. Curious; while driving this morning we heard the word ‘reckoning’ three times during an interview on the radio. What are the odds of that after titling one essay and mentioning the same word here multiple times during the course of mere days? Very odd, that stuff. Much like occurrences of the number 47 – those are unreal, to be honest – we were thrown by hearing the aforementioned word this morning. Are there voodoo forces around us? Either that, or a series of coincidences. We do not know what to think. Whatever the case, the title has created a touch of discomfort inside. The clock rolls on regardless of our need to sit here and consider the events of the past week – including something that can’t be mentioned, yet stirred us to the core nonetheless – while trying to understand the genesis. We have clues and ideas, but nothing concrete. Maybe that’s about as good as it gets with this shit. Some questions about life simply cannot be answered. We are hoping for a little better than that statement. The parts of life that hold power over us are mysteries. Sometimes we feel that the problem is internal, meaning we are at fault for allowing what could be considered by some as trivial matters. To us, they are aspects of living that have defined us for more than two decades, and perhaps longer. Trivializing the situation and our condition is not something we would take lightly. Fortunately, no one knows the whole truth of the fucking thing, otherwise we would have to sit here experiencing difficulting while also knowing that there could be a person out there laughing about it. Of course, that is a bit unrealistic, but the fear exists nonetheless. We’ve become far too sensitive about the topics explored here to easily relax and conclude that we need not be concerned about what others think. That is the truth. Deeply personal issues are probably not pleasant for anyone to reveal to another. We realize that we’re not the only ones with problems, yet our inclination toward suppression and denying ourselves professional help are unhealthy and could lead to far worse circumstances. As of yet, the only reasonable path to help has actually been the most unreasonable. Unacceptable to many, as well. We keep trying, and the world seems to be dictating that whenever we get a handle on some of it, a derailment hits us and we regress, much like last Saturday evening at the restaurant. The turmoil, when combined with a few other difficulties we’ve been experiencing for a while, may very well be the reckoning. The question remains, however... Do we deserve this? Or can we be allowed to apply that word? Like every other question, there is no answer. We can still see her, we still want to be close (to the lines, of course), and we still feel a desperate need to understand why that vision is so fucking powerful. We’ve been close before. Perhaps the fear of never being close to what we need again is a catalyst. Not much is certain. Only death. What a pleasant thought. Ugh. Too much fear. Too much need. There is just too much all the fucking time. The routine has been finished and we have a nice glass of depressing liquid here on the table. As for the rest of the day, there is garbage business and some laundry. That is all. The weather is still quite humid, and if the sun continues to shine into the late afternoon, the house will be too warm for any physical work. We will have to focus upon either the garage or shed. Hmm... Focus. That’s a joke. Any focusing on housework is most decidedly temporary. We have little choice in the matter, however the work needs to be addressed regardless of how fucking sideways we become. The numbing effects of the booze are creeping in. Very good. Everything seems a little bit easier when such a state comes along, the downside being when there is too much numbing. Very bad. At least we know our limits. Some people never learn when to avoid drinking excessive alcohol and the results are on the news almost every day. We’ve done that, too, so there shall be no judgment. Just a thought. Anyway, from here forward we will begin the laundry and take care of the garbage. The afternoon will prove to be fairly rewarding once some of the housework is completed. The sideways mood is still present. We must draw a line and push ourselves to the other side if this day is to be productive. The line was behind us for a while. Everything we set out to do is now finished. There are only small details remaining before dinner preparations. Monday morning may roll right over us if we are not careful. Feelings are haphazard; stirring. We are angry and hopeful at the same time. There is pain inside, two-fold. We will have to be careful today and try to keep the anger at bay. We do not want to swing the hammer or otherwise flip out, even for a little while. The action never ends well, nor does it accomplish anything good. The coffee is nearly gone. We are going to head to the gas station and then the market. Upon returning, we shall finish the morning business and pour a glass of whiskey. Alcohol has the single ability to suppress or otherwise make any feelings of desire disappear for a while. Back to the singular. I don’t want to die without remembering the feeling. I don’t want to die a frail fraction of what I once was. Well, maybe I was never what I thought. Think of the keywords. Two of them stand head and shoulders above the rest. Tuesday. What does this mean? Not much. I am already heading sideways due to remembering too much, and two items stand head and shoulders above the rest. One is a continuation of the tremendous aftereffects of seeing the girl in the restaurant, and the other is the fact that there are very important aspects of life that I have lived but now realize I can no longer remember. That’s right... I can’t recall the feelings. This fact represents something unexpected and frightening. Moreover, the relationship between a lack of memory and the dreamy, ethereal state of the fucking ‘purity’ is the worst aspect of trying to understand how my condition developed into this hellish loss-laden pit in the first place. I can’t remember. This is the lowest point I’ve ever felt. I can’t fucking remember how it felt. I can’t take much more of this. And I won’t even go into the topic of the ‘thing’. That is another level, and one I simply can’t fucking deal with right now. My shit sundae already has enough cherries perched and balanced on top. I wish I could erase my remaining memories of the past. Everything is finished. Well, the usual crap, anyway. I don’t know what else I’ll be able to accomplish today because my mood keeps trying to swing into the negative; the hammer. I don’t want it because nothing is served by becoming angry and lashing out. The other side of that shit is always the same... Right back where I started with the same problems. Only one true solution can be seen, and it is most decidedly impossible. I don’t deal with conundrums very well. Think of a cornered camel. The only positive right now is all this free time. It’s also a negative because I can’t stop thinking and most days have a hell of a time distracting myself from the end expected. Freedom from thought; freedom from pain; freedom from further damage. The end expected. Hmm. The mood has changed from streaming video media to the music of life. This is not good. The end expected; a phrase I have employed here for a very long time. Years. Will it ever happen? Will I arrive at that point? No answers, just like with every other fucking question. There are several individuals that will not react well to said end. Of that there can be no doubt, but what does that mean for me? Do I continue suffering like this solely for the benefit of other people? What places them above me? Good luck finding an answer. One more cocktail could mean walls falling and no more words on the site. All it takes is a moment of weakness for this to end for all time. Sometimes I feel that all I need is the peace and quiet of this house. During other times, I feel that what I really need is a fireman’s axe and one single minute of lashing out toward everything I’ve written for more than twenty years. Destruction, plain and simple. This is not a good day by any means. God help anyone who approaches this property today. I most certainly will not. Anger... A true emotion that cannot be addressed through platitudes and placation. I wish I could enter the forest. The wireless MDRs are fully charged. That means I have the ability to at least hear it. Maybe I should eat something light and then head to the front yard for some tree trimming. The hammer swing may be inevitable today. Nothing will be served, but at least I will feel some RF power for a little while. Better than nothing. All I have to do is refill my glass. One of two situations will result. Either I will blast the music of life and cause the neighborhood to wonder what is happening at this address, or I will end up in the corner of the backyard for the last time. No one understands, and there are two reasons. One is the music. The other is the literal truth that I have not communicated my feelings to another human being for a very long time. I can’t blame those who know me. I really can’t. They operate on what they know or have heard, whereas my primary mission is to leave the entire world in the dark. That is the only hand of cards I possess. Whatever the next few days, weeks, months or years may hold, one fact remains... I will demonstrate my dissatisfaction and disdain through a single act of violence that shall leave those people bereft of understanding. To be clear, I will commit suicide and leave everyone and everything behind. It is just a matter of time. My mood is very reckless right now. This can be a positive, believe it or not, because those who know me will not understand such a stance. They just look at me and wonder what could be wrong. I am looking at a fork. One tine is pointing toward having lunch and allowing this day to fade into obscurity, and the other is pointed directly at today being my last day alive. Two tines, not three. I went to the garage for a cigarette and blasted one track in the interest of extending my very negative mood. Nothing was accomplished; nothing was served. I killed the power of the mighty garage audio system and switched to the wireless MDRs. At least no one else will be made aware of this horrible mood or my pathetic place in the world. Still no food; only alcohol. I am powerless to affect anything these days. My saving throws are diminishing, much like any will to go on living. Tomorrow I have to make the drive to the City, and if the current mood does not lighten, I will be taking my car in order to carry forward with the idea that I am not the person to be trifled or trivialized. God help people if I ever come into the resources for proper reproduction of this music. No one understands; no one WILL understand, ever. The headphones are fully charged. Maybe trimming the tree is the best idea for the next hour. Curious... Sometimes I have to demonstrate my mood through the garage system, whereas during other times I keep it to myself. After twenty years of the same decision, I still don’t know what is best. I fucking LOVE ignoring people, yet when I feel reckless, blasting uncomfortable compositions from the big system in the garage is unavoidable. RF power seems to be the only true influence I have left in the world. Moreover, the same idea may be my only defense against the reckoning. As of yet, I’ve had nothing to eat, and that means my fingers are not able to accurately flow across the keyboard. This may be the right time to grab my tools and climb into the tree. Another day is gone. The tree idea was nearly a bust because one of the neighbors decided to drop by – I didn’t even know he was present until I looked down from twelve feet in the air – and bend my ear about his fucking plumbing projects. That was a partial waste of time. I still thinned the tree quite a bit. The afternoon rather turned to shit, though, and that despite my efforts to be productive. I guess everything got the best of me for a little while and sent the mood south. I didn’t even cook dinner. Food was ordered. The calendar has changed again and like always, today being Wednesday. I feel a little bit better on one front, yet further down on another. Dreams early this morning took my sense and reason away for the tenth time in as many weeks, effectively leaving me to wonder if this is all there is to be; a future appearing as bleak as the past few years. I took the drive – pretty slow thanks to more traffic than usual – and saw a few difficult sights in the City, yet none of them compare to experiencing more damaging imagery and feelings while dreaming. My head is awash with thoughts and memories related to losses that have been mounting for quite some time. My heart hurts again. I need some fucking help, damn it. Even the simplicity of revealing a few things that have been swirling inside for many years could do part of the trick, but protection has to be maintained. This is a conundrum which sometimes resembles a paradox. I don’t know which is worse. And something else is now affecting my ability to think and type... 'Right over there, and right over there. Close, but not too much so; far away. That one and then that one and then back to the first. Right there. Very close; not often. Far away most of the time, just like that elusive dress that we love so much. Right over there. A billion miles away. Both at the same time. We saw her; we saw quite a bit. And then everything fell apart and we had trouble considering ourselves rational and even slightly balanced. We looked at her as if the end of the world was just around the corner and we had mere seconds to live. None of it mattered after those few seconds, however, because we knew in advance of the possibility and subsequent consequences. WE KNEW. She was right there and we badly needed her to be elsewhere and in two different circumstances. She knew nothing of that shit, thankfully, and is out there somewhere living however she sees fit, and most decidedly unaffected by our situation and problems. Who is she? Many people. Hundreds at times; few during other moments. Today she is everyone. We are no one. We drove and returned, all the while trying to balance our ability to flow with the masses and the other ability to remain calm in the face of utter disaster. Right over there but not related to us. Right there. None of it matters because our reckoning has been going on for years, unbeknownst to us and regardless of such dire needs in life. We thought everything was fairly normal. Nope. We’ve obviously been considered in a bad light and have been on the losing end of the world for longer than we’d care to recall. Seeing her was a part of that. The two shit situations – believe it or not, and even though they are forty-plus years in the past – are a part of it, as well. The reckoning was preordained and so far beyond actual control that we can barely understand the terms involved. There were others attached to this same shit. Many. Some far in the past and some closer to this very moment as we begin to frame the reckoning. They were in the right place for a little while. Some were in the right place for mere minutes; possibly hours for a handful. One was a split fucking second. The end of the world was coming through the door and we gazed at our own destruction as exposed by one little maneuver that we will probably never forget. The end of the world pays no mind to our needs; the destruction rolls along regardless of our pain. Reckoning is unpleasant and unchangeable; It is nigh. We need to find a way of living through some of the more difficult periods without threats or inner posturing. We say ‘inner’ because no one takes us seriously anymore. NO ONE. We have to remain as balanced as possible in the face of disaster, and that includes anything viewed from ‘right over there’, regardless of how much turmoil we end up feeling or how fucking disastrous the situation may become. There will always be things to see right over there, not to mention ‘right fucking over there’. None of it is good, so we need either a long-term plan (depending upon how much longer we may live) or an activity with the power to temporarily heal the wounds left behind by all of them. Perhaps just bandages for the time being. When they fall off, we will try again. There is no way of stopping the reckoning. We feel it in one way or another every single day. Right over there; doesn’t matter. And then right over there; doesn’t matter. None of this matters. We will move along with the day, like always. Squished; routed; disregarded. Angry; sad; hopeless. It is... The WAY OF THINGS. We do not hold any cards. They are elsewhere and most of the time completely hidden until something bad takes place. The way of things. That is all. At least we are aware of such a fact.' The house is very quiet and peaceful this morning. I will have to do a bit of housework soon because not only does it need to be done each day, but I can only sit here for so long before sadness gets the best of me. I am only half angry at half of everything right now. Just half. Yesterday I went further and came out the other side no better for the stupid mood. I can bide my time without demonstrating weakness. The only issue is when I begin to recall dreams or some parts of the past. That has been happening all morning and sending my brain into that girl’s dress, among several other places that shall remain unmentioned. Big surprise. Just keep in mind that everything in my life that has transpired at the hands and mouths of others drove me to think in such a fashion, and most likely also heavily influenced my dreams while asleep. Not even the recent voodoo experiences can stop that shit, believe me. And? Don’t ask. The dream from early this morning has created turmoil inside and I can’t even say why. Well, I can’t say lots of things anymore because though I sometimes mention one woman or another and my deep desire to demonstrate certain affection due to the feelings in my heart, there is much more. So much, in fact, that most days I feel like my head is going to explode from all the suppression. I have so much information hidden away that even I don’t understand it all. The girl in the restaurant was just another symptom of a much larger fucking problem. I genuinely hope I never see her or anything like that again. I need more lines in my head like I need Satan’s fucking penis in my ass. This is a pretty bad fucking morning. I can’t seem to let go of certain past situations and move along like a normal person, whatever that may be. I arose a few minutes ago and took care of the floor and cat litter. There is not much in the kitchen thanks to having food delivered last night. That stuff can wait. I may opt for the morning cocktail for the sole purpose of further suppressing and deluding my feelings of desire that are trying to ruin the day. This is not the fault of that girl, either. She was just a person. The main problem right now is missing pieces of life that I probably will never get back, nor is there much chance of them being replicated in the future. I am stuck. Oh, and I have actually learned something important throughout the course of this year. I have realized that hurting those who care for me is probably too much. I’ve caused plenty of bad situations for others in the past, and my recent thoughts have been pointed toward something much worse. I don’t know if I can do that. Not anytime soon, at least. As much as I need to give everyone a figurative slap across the face, the timing is bad and may never improve. I have to think about everything for a long while. There have been two very specific situations from many years ago that both played out one hundred fucking percent in my favor, neither of which will leave my head this morning. I still can’t believe what took place back then, to be honest, and that thought after so much time. Disbelief does not change the fact that they took place, only that the gradient between now and then continues to widen and cause much pain inside. Regardless of whether or not I deserved such good fortune in the past, both are hurting me as I recall them over and over. I poured the typical morning drink so some feelings can be either numbed or fully suppressed for a while. Perhaps after another hour or so, I can take care of a few chores around the house. The alternative is to have lunch at some point and then do absolutely nothing. Either is fine. My head feels like a theatre with movies endlessly repeating and I can’t seem to do anything about it. Sometimes when I feel helpless to rise I buy an item or two that can make me smile for a little while. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now because I’ve been trying to minimize spending. If not for basic household needs, there is nothing I should be purchasing for a while. Without such a crutch, I don’t know what else can boost me today. When I accomplish something, I don’t feel good about the work like I did in the past. I feel nothing. There is one possibility for a different situation next month, and that is a potential road trip to the southern half of the state to view an exhibit centered around the war in the holy land. If it works, I may be able to tour one of the studios that is very close to the exhibit venue. The trip is a longshot, but I thought I’d mention it anyway. My car would need to be serviced beforehand, only adding to the cost of the whole idea. Right now I just don’t know. Oh, boy. Last night was troublesome. Today is Thursday, I have all the time in the world to do whatever seems best, the house is quiet and peaceful, and the next two days after today will be the same. Years ago this was one hell of a dream. I barely had free time at all. One may believe that after wishing for this type of situation for a very long time and then seeing it come to fruition would be a good thing. It is, partly, yet the freedom also allows my head to wander all over the place because I am almost never truly busy. Such thinking came to a head last night due to a very difficult afternoon. By the time I dropped into bed, my brain was awash with the realization that the reckoning is indeed responsible for the most important aspects of living slowly disappearing during the past two-plus years. I have been paying the tab of life for longer than originally thought. This is not good because the little enjoyments are merely time-fillers, whereas the true joy – one part of that even related to a seemingly small daily enjoyment – is all but gone. I am having problems that were never imagined before and they have already broken my heart and removed a good amount of anger. The latter does not help me, ever. Anger comes and goes regardless of anything being served by way of such moods. Most of the time, nothing changes. Once in a while when I become angry and decide to swing the hammer for a while, there is a positive outcome in the form of accomplishing something very quickly. Cleaning, laundry, or the like. That is all. The other side of being angry is the fact that after the mood passes, I end up right back where I started; nowhere. Last night I realized that the changes which have become apparent since last year are a part of the downfall; the reckoning. The worst part of this is I will have to let go of something that has a history of being beautiful, wondrous and stirring to my core. I have to completely remove the idea from my life or I’ll continue to fight against an immovable object. I may be a fucking depressed basket case, but even I am not stupid enough to continue such a futile process. Unfortunately, leaving those key feelings behind for the rest of my life cannot last very long (definitely not the duration). The reckoning has shortened the potential span of years that I have left, and in the worst terms possible. Worst, indeed. By extension, this is the worst realization I’ve had in many years, and likely the most powerful reason for wishing all feelings away. I used to want to keep some of them in my heart, but no longer. The realization was completely unexpected and will likely alter the flow of content on this fucking site, for good. There can be no going back because the reckoning is nowhere near temporary, especially considering last night’s realization. This is bad, and as many times as I’ve stated as much, the word carries more weight than ever before. I’ve lost something truly dire to my continued existence and I can’t travel back in time to recapture anything. This is the worst. I am sitting here in disbelief, yet at some point I need to go through the daily motions and take care of the house. Reasons are diminishing at an alarming rate. Why did it have to leave? I may be an idiot for not seeing the truth sooner. Despite my desperate need to run away this morning, I allowed some time to pass and took care of the routine. I also have some laundry in the washer. My reward for the housework is sitting here on the table, very icy and yummy. I usually operate mornings in a similar fashion, the drink being after the typical beginning to the day. Now I can sit here and drown my depression with a fucking depressant. Nice, huh? ‘Opposite thinking, lieutenant.’ Thanks, captain. And now... Where do I go from here? Lunch? It is usually a small enjoyment, after which I will generally lose my way and turn into a completely useless pile of shit for some hours. Maybe that will happen and maybe it won’t. Right now I can’t predict. I will finish the laundry and perhaps run a load of dry cleaning. Other than those two, I really have no idea how I will feel later today. Dinner will be pretty straightforward and is already planned. I’ll probably have my program on the television in the kitchen to relax and enjoy cooking. The situation inside my head is horrible. I didn’t need anything else on the pile of shit which I’ve been dealing with for the last few years. I did not fucking need it. I may opt to relax at the dining table to disassemble one of the big models because the work tends to help let go of negative feelings while I follow along with a program on the television. The feelings always return, but if I can be comfortable and distracted for a little while, all the better. When it comes to loss, I have no choice in the matter. Something has to help or I’ll end up in the corner of the backyard with half my head missing. That is not a euphemism. Suicide. Death may be the only pure action left in my world. I don’t want it, though. I will continue to try deluding my life with small moments powerful enough to keep me out of the soil. Had I followed the Raven nine years ago, none of this shit would be necessary. Fifty-fifty, at best. Something always comes to mind that can keep me going a little bit longer. The hour is later and I am no better for the passage of time. I’ve had the music of life on the wireless MDRs for the last two hours in order to help this fragmented, sullen mood continue and drive me through housework and laundry, the downside being reminders of the days of old. Yes, they are old. At the time – and I am referring to the years of fifteen and sixteen when the best path was straight into the soil – they seemed new. All these years later, everything is ancient. Even the melodies playing through the MDRs are ancient, although not as much as a few other titles. I need to switch to desktop music and give my earlobes a break from the heat. Cocktail number two is here on the table, as well. Is it a good idea? Yes and no. Today, I don’t fucking care. I am going to come out the other side of this day all fucked up anyway, so I may as well enjoy something in the meantime. As for the days of old, they conjure images of beauty and wonder, sadness and suicide. The writing was very different back then. Lots of time spent sitting here did not add up to much content because I did more pondering than typing. The reckoning has changed every aspect of my days. I do not work full time anymore, but believe me when I say that my head works more than enough to make up for it. The laundry and dry cleaning are finished, a light lunch is out of the way, and my time is WFO for the remainder of the day. Look it up. The afternoon ahead will NOT be a repeat of yesterday. I can’t have that shit anymore, and due to the relationship between yesterday and my late night realization, there is a possibility that the same situation will never occur again in this life. Worst case, I end up on the sofa watching my current series until dinner time. That is pathetic, yet just fine. I have no wish to do damage or flip out again. The music brings me back to my time with the Raven, but after so many years I do not believe the compositions hit me in a similar manner. When She and I were together, the background focus was always destruction because we connected on such a level almost constantly. At present, I’ve gone in that direction many times and always returned to whatever was left prior to the horrible mood. Her wishes will be served in the longer term, but not now. I have to remain stable until the moment arrives when everything is forced to turn on its ear. Not now. I love Her, yet I need to be vigilant and ensure the actions are appropriate at the time, not before. The music is a two-fold reminder of the past. Moreover, the previous album of songs brought me all the way back nearly fourteen years to a time when every single fucking moment was painted with suicidal tones and more destruction than I had ever felt. Even with a second drink so early in the afternoon, I can still be cognizant of past mistakes. Is that growth? Or is it a lie? Curious; some of these tracks are so long that the ‘ending’ of the composition begins just over halfway through the total running time. For example, the current song runs for 7:39, but the ending sequence begins more than 3 minutes prior to the actual end. That type of dramatic structure partially outlines the way my brain operates; a forceful, powerful ending despite a seemingly docile start, and the division between the two is almost indistinguishable. There is another by a different artist that quite literally defines such a process. The track runs for 10 minutes and 59 seconds total, yet the ending begins more than 4 minutes before its close. Context is everything. That is a point I’ve been trying to drive home for two fucking decades and still no one understands. Maybe I truly am completely alone. Regardless of my position, I will never relinquish my position when it comes to the structure, drama, or storytelling of certain types of music. Period. Oh, but there is more. Rarely have I shared music with other people without the ability to fully mask the artist. That is to say there can be no recording, searching via some fucking music identification application, or viewing of the title or artist. Hiding everything is not easy, but at least I have the advantage of listening to music in which the title is so fucking hidden within the lyrics that there is almost no way of gleaning it. Eh.... Correction. The second track mentioned above entertains a closing section that comprises 3 minutes and 25 seconds instead of 4 minutes. Sorry. Shoot me. No one seems to understand this shit but me. Splendid. Friday. Coffee. Depression. Yearning. Why? Because there was an incredible side view yesterday which allowed me to calculate the vast difference between her breasts and midsection, and seeing such a fucking shelf above reminded me of the very first time I sat next to the Raven and spied something similar. I marveled at both, nine-plus years apart, and now look at me. The same behavior, the same fucking need, and the same Goddamned stance toward the world and the manner in which I turned out after decades. Shit. The sun will not decide whether or not to shine through my office window. I refuse to pop out of the chair every few minutes to adjust. I’ll just have to be closed off for a while. I really don’t care which way, but one or the other, please. Anyway, I do not recall any dreams from the night and nothing else pushed me further down, yet the damage has already been done. The realization has damaged me beyond belief. There have been moments since yesterday when I calculated something like this seemed to be on the horizon. I felt it, for lack of a better description. Well, once in a while there was an inkling in the back of my mind that a door would close and then disappear for all time, and that took place partly because of the reckoning. I always state that there is no good on my horizon. This is some of the bad. More is likely coming soon, but I will say this is the worst possible turn of the card I could have imagined in a million years. Be careful with your decisions. Trust me. When they return, you may be in lots of pain. I still don’t know what I can do to ease the difficulty inherent in such a loss. Yesterday I drank a touch more than usual, but not to the point of being stupid. I ended up tired. That’s all. Today I’ll probably be outside for a little while just in case my neighbor needs some of my tools. Any conversation regarding motor vehicles will help the stunning side view fade from my consciousness. The alternative is for that beauty to lead me back to the realization, and that will not end well for anyone. I’ll do whatever I can today in order to avoid finding a path to destruction. Part of my life has been removed and there is nothing I can do about it. One path is to accept and try to live anyway. The other path? The ‘end expected’. I may have to go to the market later this morning. The idea is ok, for the most part, but I always fear there will be something special over there with the power to fold me in half. The last one was fucking horrible. The last thing I need right now is another reminder that part of my life has been destroyed. If I do decide to go, the trip will be quick. No wandering eyes; no searching. I’ll have to get the hell in and out as efficiently as possible. That is that. Today already feels like shit and the clock is not even halfway past nine. Marvelous. I don’t believe the potential trip in October is a good idea, and that despite an offer to lodge with family to keep costs down. It’s still not a good idea. On the upside, without a hotel reservation, I need not worry about any downsides whichever way the decision goes. Right now I am leaning toward remaining home. I am more concerned about being uncomfortable far from home than I am about seeing any possible beauty. One is easier to deal with than the other, but I really don’t need any discomfort right now because there is already plenty of shit in my head that drags me down each morning and leaves me almost completely worthless later in the day. I just don’t think leaving here for three or four days is a good thing. Later. The usual housework is finished and my morning cocktail is nearly gone. I made some adjustments to the layout of each entry as driven by a desire to identify entries with mature content, although one could argue that the entire site could benefit from such a warning. Whatever the case, I added a blurb to the subheader of the newest essay. Future work will follow suit. I felt that the warning which previously lived at the top of the footer was not a good idea because of the suspicion that visitors may read from top to bottom before seeing anything contained within the footer. Or maybe no one even knows there is a footer. They may not care either way, but I decided to make the change to serve my own interest in making certain this content appears professional even if it is not. Working on the structure and appearance of the site tends to relax me when my head goes sideways. Today is no different, and I am pleased to report that the mood right now is very mellow as compared to yesterday at the same time. This is good, yet I don’t know the reason for the change. Maybe I just decided that there has already been enough damage and opted for a better direction today. Regardless of the reasoning or genesis, I feel better than I had predicted earlier and am ready for the hours ahead. Another day has disappeared for all time. Today is Saturday, and the hour is later than usual as I finally sit here to analyze and explore. Cocktail hour is at hand, too. Very nice. This is a part of each day that I somewhat enjoy; once the routine is out of the way and I have some time to get off my feet and think. This morning I’ve been working on an older entry regarding the ‘passion’, mostly cleaning up the text and reorganizing images. The essay will be available again soon. It has been offline for some months, perhaps as long as a year. I can’t remember. In any case, I’ve been editing and adding thoughts here and there primarily because the way I view my own writing has changed since that entry was first published more than seven years ago. Moreover, I wanted to add some commentary regarding the thoughts by people which followed one excellent and very clear review that I’ve read several times. People were being ridiculous and toying with ideas that have no basis in reality, nor do the comments paint the individuals in a favorable light. No specifics will be included aside from my own views. Between the main format, the master page and archive listings, I’ve spent more time on the backend than I have continuing with my obsession, the topics of beauty and desire, or those two horrible situations from the past. The reasoning behind such a change is my stance on the realization from the other night – a very important (perhaps the MOST important) aspect of living that has disappeared, possibly never to return. I needed to distract myself from that hellish feeling for a while because the direction of my head was straight down, as in a path to hell itself. I will not likely be headed in any other direction when I leave this earth. Very sad, but at least I am aware of what I am and all that I’ve done. In short, I need to leave all that shit alone for a while and move in other directions in order to preserve the time that I have left. I am very passionate about the ‘passion’, for lack of a better description, and must unload my feelings to the essay in question before it is published once again. Aside from beauty and the direction of the site as related to the same, the subject of that essay is the most important ‘thing’ in the world to me. It is also impossible without some insane set of circumstances coming to pass in the near future. All I have are my words. For the remainder of the morning, my thoughts will be directed toward the ‘passion’, and will not appear here in this backward essay. I will say that I saw Zoe on the television again this morning and my heart performed gymnastics. Splendid. I wish she could hold me. The weather is very humid, although there is a cloud layer that is obscuring the sunshine. That’s probably a good thing for someone such as myself who prefers the cool climate. There is a storm system to the north, but I don’t know if that is what’s affecting the humidity here. Something more south may be the culprit. Whichever it is, I’ll have to make certain that any moving of items or cleaning is finished prior to lunch. The afternoon will probably end up very warm. On the upside, the furnace has been dormant for weeks. Excellent. I still have yet to move the computer tower because the project is daunting. I may even have to pick up a longer cable for the left-hand display. Not a big deal. Something is happening outside. I need to investigate. Hmm... The neighbor two doors down is having a garage sale. I interfaced with the closer neighbor and determined that there was a picnic cooler over there. I had the idea of creating a ‘fog cooler’ for my Halloween display this year, and a cooler is one critical component and would perform far better than a simple plastic container. I went over there and picked it up for a song, also learning that the seller is fostering kittens right now. Wow. I may adopt two siblings in the next week or so because I am a glutton for cat-related punishment. To that end, the idea of adding two kittens to the household has been floating around for several years. The process would involve isolating them for some days in order to acclimate the little guys to the climate of this house and the scent of the two adult cats that have been here for more than a decade. I’m sure there would be some difficulty, but at least I am already fluent in the process of adapting kittens to a house with adult cats and the related atmosphere. They need to be introduced slowly and carefully, lest the adults become irate. I’ll have to think about the idea for a while. As for the cooler, I can modify it for fog chilling very easily at very little expense. Fog is very warm, and as such does not flow along the ground. Building a chiller would cool the mist and cause it to flow down the driveway. For five dollars, I am willing to experiment with the project and see if it bears fruit. Halloween is one of those nights that I’ve loved for decades. I usually try to make the most of it because the holiday flies by very quickly. One evening; that is all. None of this has anything to do with the reckoning, but I have to embrace anything with the power to keep my mind at ease. Along such lines... The electric bike has become yet another crazy project. I stripped it of excess and unnecessary weight, and yesterday pulled apart the wiring harness between the speed controller and throttle handle. After a few minutes of testing, I determined the flow of operation and have a working idea for increasing top speed. The process is very slow, however, and often interrupted by anything related to either beauty or the recent realization that my life has been permanently altered beyond my control. At some point I will break out test equipment and determine if the system can be modified without replacing the speed controller. I have a hard time caring about anything frivolous for more than a few minutes, and that is the reason the bike has not advanced beyond the discovery stage. Historically, I’ve been a champion of disassembling items that are otherwise labeled as ‘unable to be modified by end users’, and the bike is no different. A basic understanding of DC voltage and the way it behaves is the underlying reason. Many people accept those types of items and never do anything outside the scope of the instruction booklet. I, on the other hand, see the item as something that can be advanced beyond the original intent. If the work can keep me out of the soil, all the better. Sunday morning. Coffee. The drive is behind me, ahead is the usual business. I need to maintain an even keel for the most part today because regardless of how others have affected my condition, I do not wish to cause problems right now. I want to be a hole in the world... Barely noticeable at all. That seems to be the best way to proceed until something better comes along. Well, if something better comes along, that is. I don’t know much about anything lately, least of all the future. The truth is that the only aspects of the coming days, weeks, or months that are guaranteed are more changes to the negative and increased problems around the world. Whenever my brain returns to the glowing years – sometimes later periods, as well – the comparisons begin to cause me to feel very sad, and then the only thing I can do is try to find some activity with the ability to lift me for a little while. That’s it. The reminders are few, yet very powerful. Just this morning on the way back from the City, an old retailer popped into my head for some reason. That place was frequented by me (‘us’) during the glow. Nothing of the kind exists anymore because all of the interesting products have been rolled into damned few items that are quite boring. That is not why I was thinking of that period, however. The power lies in the way I felt about the appearance of the world back then, not just indiscriminate products that had been entertaining, but believe me when I say they were plentiful. No more of that. Technology has been boiled down, reduced to sludge. Today I will have to take care of household business and try to seek those little moments that can help me relax. The reckoning was wholly apparent last night. I was hit once again during dinner. I knew it; I felt as if yet another enjoyment was at risk. The evidence has been mounting, the worst part being the realization the other morning that sent me spiraling down without anything to grab. I could not slow the descent, and now that there is an additional example of the process called ‘paying the tab’, there can be little doubt that eventually something else will be removed and I will have to reach even further to find a reasonable amount of temporary comfort. This is a very bad state of affairs. The enjoyment that was absent last night has actually been around for a few years. The difference is that due to other factors having been generated throughout the last few months, I can say with certainty that the reckoning is upon me and I am even more certain that there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it. Distraction may be the key for continuing to live. That is fucking sad, damn it. I guess I just know too much. The coffee is waning. The incident at the restaurant just popped into my head due to seeking something I wrote last year. Damn. Picturing her lines again and the fact that they were completely BARE is not going to help matters this morning. I need to be productive fairly early just in case I fall off a cliff later this afternoon. I don’t need those gorgeous little curves in my fucking head right now. Not good. I wish that incident had not taken place. It was a reminder of five years ago when I looked up and saw the pool girl barely wrapped in a fucking thong and lying there with her knees up and paired. No other position shows off those most intimate of curves. The obsession just never goes away. I’ll have to do some work very soon. And I did. The routine is finished and I have my typical glass of whiskey here on the table. Very exciting, eh? Whatever. This is what I have become, all full of lines and booze. Oh, and the reckoning continues unimpeded. If I am unable to extricate the shit from my brain, the rest of the day may not amount to much at all. That’s fine. I don’t really care. There are two items on my list, one being the fact that I need to rebuild and lubricate the back door handle and lock, and the other is I need to further research a wiring harness for the fucking bike. Yep... I think I messed up by cutting too many lines without fully investigating the connections. Now I can’t get the damned rear wheel to move no matter what I try. That’s also just fine because eventually I’ll either figure it out or replace the harness. They are very cheap. Other than those two projects, I don’t give half a shit what else is accomplished. Dinner is already planned, so cooking will be easy. I need to place an order at the big wine store because I am out of my regular booze, meaning I am sipping Canadian whiskey which is much more expensive. I don’t want to get used to it, either. Not good. ‘Woe is Monday; where we live; One or another will have to give. Push and pull; toss her thing; She knows not the reckoning.’ Indeed. The usual. Everyone who has visited here before is already aware of what the first weekday means. I have to visit three different stores in less than an hour. Ugh. I’d rather stay here and take care of whatever is most pressing. And speaking of pressing, the reckoning is perched atop my head at this very moment. I can’t do anything about it, either. Last night it was apparent just like the previous evening and I didn’t like the feeling one bit. I expect nothing good, only more of the same. Shopping will either be difficult or not. There is no way to know, but I have to do it anyway. Returning will be very nice, as always, and can likely open the rest of the day to more positive thoughts. Heading into the masses of society can be very uncomfortable and disconcerting at times. I just have to push. Forcing the issue gets it done more quickly and finds me back here sooner. Less than an hour. Shit. This is not going to end no matter how much I might wish it away. There is nothing I can do. The reckoning is fully in charge. The two shit situations continue to press me into a mold of someone completely unrecognizable as a person. Memories of the glowing years, the afterglow, and those moments that found me exactly where I needed to be cannot return regardless of my needs or how bad the current situation becomes. Everything hurts me, and then just when I seem to be finding a moment’s relief, the reckoning slams me and destroys any comfort or enjoyment. I’ve seen too much; I’ve known too much. I wish I didn’t know anything. Freedom from thinking. Freedom from remembering. Freedom from the reckoning?" 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 Reckoning Mature content No. 422 Published August 26th, 2024 9:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries "There was no reckoning because we cannot follow a single line of thinking anymore. There has been far too much bullshit affecting us lately. Just when we find a smidgen of comfort, everything becomes derailed and we end up full of pain and heartache all over again. The clarity never lasts. We can either continue in the same haphazard, pathetic vein or try something else, but what? Which direction? Anger? That emotion never accomplishes anything. Sadness? We have no choice but to be sad. As with everything else we’ve been wrestling for years, solutions continue to elude our consciousness. This situation is fucking pathetic, mostly because some years ago we actually felt accomplished, viable and effective in some aspects of life. Lately, we feel very, very little of those. Tiny moments. That’s all. This morning is just like all the others. We will think, finish the coffee, hit the daily routine and then pour a cocktail and return to whatever this endeavor has become. Um... We may know that last one. A repeating mess of depressing information, none of which is interesting in the least. We went back and changed the previous entry to better reflect the content. The title is now more appropriate considering that a good portion of the essay is focused upon our feelings regarding the girl at the restaurant and how those few moments forced us to look into the past. Changing a title does not typically happen after publishing, but with that mess we felt it necessary. We also went into the archive and rebuilt the page for ease of access, by date. A separate page for each year is just not good. We did all that work and then felt like it did not match the streamlined nature the rest of the site enjoys. We may have a large number of entries linked there, but honestly, this endeavor is quite small in the scheme of the Internet. All we’d like is to have everything organized and as compact as possible. If the shit ever hits the fan, the whole of the site can be carried in less than one pocket. Not bad. This morning began much later than usual due to being up fairly late last night. The day will move along just fine, but the start has been a tad slower than we are normally accustomed. There was some very compelling conversation regarding automotive work in general and drag racing in particular. Such discussions generally run late because the subject matter is often compelling. We were involved in the sport dating all the way back to the early seventies and understand the processes and equipment involved, even to this very day. Anyway, the house is quiet and mellow, ideal for thinking about everything. Mostly we are trying to consider the ramifications of the other night and just how powerful that sort of thing has become. We often feel completely broken due to something that can be defined as pretty simple. Drag racing can be complicated, but at the same time, our feelings toward the girl and her lines are completely off the fucking complication scale. We need to find a key as to ‘why’ all of it has become so painful. That’s right, after tens of thousands of lines of code and many, many years of analysis, we still don’t understand. We are beginning to believe that no matter the good we’ve done for others, the reckoning is not for them; not even those who wronged us. Our current mental and emotional states could be the reckoning – much worse than simply paying the tab of life – and we may have been mired within it for a very long time without truly realizing the sheer scope. Everything from heartache over beauty and all facets therein to the simplicity of not being able to taste our food on occasion. Little things, not cataclysmic events. Small. At the outset of the previous entry, our mood had been diminished considerably, and thus we pointed everything toward other people. We began to see the reverse almost immediately, changed the stance a little bit at a time as the content grew, and eventually reverted to a different title more reflecting what happened in the restaurant and the way she related to some past events. All of that shit must be considered. The peaceful, quiet nature of the house can hopefully help us today. The mood did not change. We were relegated a little bit due to the timing of everything, although the hours passed reasonably well, which is pretty much all we can ask for these days. We don’t expect actual ‘good’. Sunday is here. We took the drive and it went very smoothly. Nothing to see. No one there. Only a few cars and very cooperative traffic signals. Now that the drive is out of the way, we can try to focus upon everything that needs to be accomplished along with some thinking toward finding comfort and security for a little while. One of the ideas yesterday was to begin with a measure of very simple streamlining and see if it leads to anything further. Along the way, the same questions will likely swirl around inside and perhaps leave us angry. We need to remain calm while working in order to avoid a huge pitfall today. Yesterday morning turned out to be a complete fucking disaster. That can’t happen again or our reaction may be very unpleasant. We can’t even get back from ‘we’ to ‘I’. Something is holding us back from being relaxed enough to make the change. There is also a bit of rancor left over from the other night. We don’t understand that one, either. This morning will have to be taken one moment at a time. Curious; while driving this morning we heard the word ‘reckoning’ three times during an interview on the radio. What are the odds of that after titling one essay and mentioning the same word here multiple times during the course of mere days? Very odd, that stuff. Much like occurrences of the number 47 – those are unreal, to be honest – we were thrown by hearing the aforementioned word this morning. Are there voodoo forces around us? Either that, or a series of coincidences. We do not know what to think. Whatever the case, the title has created a touch of discomfort inside. The clock rolls on regardless of our need to sit here and consider the events of the past week – including something that can’t be mentioned, yet stirred us to the core nonetheless – while trying to understand the genesis. We have clues and ideas, but nothing concrete. Maybe that’s about as good as it gets with this shit. Some questions about life simply cannot be answered. We are hoping for a little better than that statement. The parts of life that hold power over us are mysteries. Sometimes we feel that the problem is internal, meaning we are at fault for allowing what could be considered by some as trivial matters. To us, they are aspects of living that have defined us for more than two decades, and perhaps longer. Trivializing the situation and our condition is not something we would take lightly. Fortunately, no one knows the whole truth of the fucking thing, otherwise we would have to sit here experiencing difficulting while also knowing that there could be a person out there laughing about it. Of course, that is a bit unrealistic, but the fear exists nonetheless. We’ve become far too sensitive about the topics explored here to easily relax and conclude that we need not be concerned about what others think. That is the truth. Deeply personal issues are probably not pleasant for anyone to reveal to another. We realize that we’re not the only ones with problems, yet our inclination toward suppression and denying ourselves professional help are unhealthy and could lead to far worse circumstances. As of yet, the only reasonable path to help has actually been the most unreasonable. Unacceptable to many, as well. We keep trying, and the world seems to be dictating that whenever we get a handle on some of it, a derailment hits us and we regress, much like last Saturday evening at the restaurant. The turmoil, when combined with a few other difficulties we’ve been experiencing for a while, may very well be the reckoning. The question remains, however... Do we deserve this? Or can we be allowed to apply that word? Like every other question, there is no answer. We can still see her, we still want to be close (to the lines, of course), and we still feel a desperate need to understand why that vision is so fucking powerful. We’ve been close before. Perhaps the fear of never being close to what we need again is a catalyst. Not much is certain. Only death. What a pleasant thought. Ugh. Too much fear. Too much need. There is just too much all the fucking time. The routine has been finished and we have a nice glass of depressing liquid here on the table. As for the rest of the day, there is garbage business and some laundry. That is all. The weather is still quite humid, and if the sun continues to shine into the late afternoon, the house will be too warm for any physical work. We will have to focus upon either the garage or shed. Hmm... Focus. That’s a joke. Any focusing on housework is most decidedly temporary. We have little choice in the matter, however the work needs to be addressed regardless of how fucking sideways we become. The numbing effects of the booze are creeping in. Very good. Everything seems a little bit easier when such a state comes along, the downside being when there is too much numbing. Very bad. At least we know our limits. Some people never learn when to avoid drinking excessive alcohol and the results are on the news almost every day. We’ve done that, too, so there shall be no judgment. Just a thought. Anyway, from here forward we will begin the laundry and take care of the garbage. The afternoon will prove to be fairly rewarding once some of the housework is completed. The sideways mood is still present. We must draw a line and push ourselves to the other side if this day is to be productive. The line was behind us for a while. Everything we set out to do is now finished. There are only small details remaining before dinner preparations. Monday morning may roll right over us if we are not careful. Feelings are haphazard; stirring. We are angry and hopeful at the same time. There is pain inside, two-fold. We will have to be careful today and try to keep the anger at bay. We do not want to swing the hammer or otherwise flip out, even for a little while. The action never ends well, nor does it accomplish anything good. The coffee is nearly gone. We are going to head to the gas station and then the market. Upon returning, we shall finish the morning business and pour a glass of whiskey. Alcohol has the single ability to suppress or otherwise make any feelings of desire disappear for a while. Back to the singular. I don’t want to die without remembering the feeling. I don’t want to die a frail fraction of what I once was. Well, maybe I was never what I thought. Think of the keywords. Two of them stand head and shoulders above the rest. Tuesday. What does this mean? Not much. I am already heading sideways due to remembering too much, and two items stand head and shoulders above the rest. One is a continuation of the tremendous aftereffects of seeing the girl in the restaurant, and the other is the fact that there are very important aspects of life that I have lived but now realize I can no longer remember. That’s right... I can’t recall the feelings. This fact represents something unexpected and frightening. Moreover, the relationship between a lack of memory and the dreamy, ethereal state of the fucking ‘purity’ is the worst aspect of trying to understand how my condition developed into this hellish loss-laden pit in the first place. I can’t remember. This is the lowest point I’ve ever felt. I can’t fucking remember how it felt. I can’t take much more of this. And I won’t even go into the topic of the ‘thing’. That is another level, and one I simply can’t fucking deal with right now. My shit sundae already has enough cherries perched and balanced on top. I wish I could erase my remaining memories of the past. Everything is finished. Well, the usual crap, anyway. I don’t know what else I’ll be able to accomplish today because my mood keeps trying to swing into the negative; the hammer. I don’t want it because nothing is served by becoming angry and lashing out. The other side of that shit is always the same... Right back where I started with the same problems. Only one true solution can be seen, and it is most decidedly impossible. I don’t deal with conundrums very well. Think of a cornered camel. The only positive right now is all this free time. It’s also a negative because I can’t stop thinking and most days have a hell of a time distracting myself from the end expected. Freedom from thought; freedom from pain; freedom from further damage. The end expected. Hmm. The mood has changed from streaming video media to the music of life. This is not good. The end expected; a phrase I have employed here for a very long time. Years. Will it ever happen? Will I arrive at that point? No answers, just like with every other fucking question. There are several individuals that will not react well to said end. Of that there can be no doubt, but what does that mean for me? Do I continue suffering like this solely for the benefit of other people? What places them above me? Good luck finding an answer. One more cocktail could mean walls falling and no more words on the site. All it takes is a moment of weakness for this to end for all time. Sometimes I feel that all I need is the peace and quiet of this house. During other times, I feel that what I really need is a fireman’s axe and one single minute of lashing out toward everything I’ve written for more than twenty years. Destruction, plain and simple. This is not a good day by any means. God help anyone who approaches this property today. I most certainly will not. Anger... A true emotion that cannot be addressed through platitudes and placation. I wish I could enter the forest. The wireless MDRs are fully charged. That means I have the ability to at least hear it. Maybe I should eat something light and then head to the front yard for some tree trimming. The hammer swing may be inevitable today. Nothing will be served, but at least I will feel some RF power for a little while. Better than nothing. All I have to do is refill my glass. One of two situations will result. Either I will blast the music of life and cause the neighborhood to wonder what is happening at this address, or I will end up in the corner of the backyard for the last time. No one understands, and there are two reasons. One is the music. The other is the literal truth that I have not communicated my feelings to another human being for a very long time. I can’t blame those who know me. I really can’t. They operate on what they know or have heard, whereas my primary mission is to leave the entire world in the dark. That is the only hand of cards I possess. Whatever the next few days, weeks, months or years may hold, one fact remains... I will demonstrate my dissatisfaction and disdain through a single act of violence that shall leave those people bereft of understanding. To be clear, I will commit suicide and leave everyone and everything behind. It is just a matter of time. My mood is very reckless right now. This can be a positive, believe it or not, because those who know me will not understand such a stance. They just look at me and wonder what could be wrong. I am looking at a fork. One tine is pointing toward having lunch and allowing this day to fade into obscurity, and the other is pointed directly at today being my last day alive. Two tines, not three. I went to the garage for a cigarette and blasted one track in the interest of extending my very negative mood. Nothing was accomplished; nothing was served. I killed the power of the mighty garage audio system and switched to the wireless MDRs. At least no one else will be made aware of this horrible mood or my pathetic place in the world. Still no food; only alcohol. I am powerless to affect anything these days. My saving throws are diminishing, much like any will to go on living. Tomorrow I have to make the drive to the City, and if the current mood does not lighten, I will be taking my car in order to carry forward with the idea that I am not the person to be trifled or trivialized. God help people if I ever come into the resources for proper reproduction of this music. No one understands; no one WILL understand, ever. The headphones are fully charged. Maybe trimming the tree is the best idea for the next hour. Curious... Sometimes I have to demonstrate my mood through the garage system, whereas during other times I keep it to myself. After twenty years of the same decision, I still don’t know what is best. I fucking LOVE ignoring people, yet when I feel reckless, blasting uncomfortable compositions from the big system in the garage is unavoidable. RF power seems to be the only true influence I have left in the world. Moreover, the same idea may be my only defense against the reckoning. As of yet, I’ve had nothing to eat, and that means my fingers are not able to accurately flow across the keyboard. This may be the right time to grab my tools and climb into the tree. Another day is gone. The tree idea was nearly a bust because one of the neighbors decided to drop by – I didn’t even know he was present until I looked down from twelve feet in the air – and bend my ear about his fucking plumbing projects. That was a partial waste of time. I still thinned the tree quite a bit. The afternoon rather turned to shit, though, and that despite my efforts to be productive. I guess everything got the best of me for a little while and sent the mood south. I didn’t even cook dinner. Food was ordered. The calendar has changed again and like always, today being Wednesday. I feel a little bit better on one front, yet further down on another. Dreams early this morning took my sense and reason away for the tenth time in as many weeks, effectively leaving me to wonder if this is all there is to be; a future appearing as bleak as the past few years. I took the drive – pretty slow thanks to more traffic than usual – and saw a few difficult sights in the City, yet none of them compare to experiencing more damaging imagery and feelings while dreaming. My head is awash with thoughts and memories related to losses that have been mounting for quite some time. My heart hurts again. I need some fucking help, damn it. Even the simplicity of revealing a few things that have been swirling inside for many years could do part of the trick, but protection has to be maintained. This is a conundrum which sometimes resembles a paradox. I don’t know which is worse. And something else is now affecting my ability to think and type... 'Right over there, and right over there. Close, but not too much so; far away. That one and then that one and then back to the first. Right there. Very close; not often. Far away most of the time, just like that elusive dress that we love so much. Right over there. A billion miles away. Both at the same time. We saw her; we saw quite a bit. And then everything fell apart and we had trouble considering ourselves rational and even slightly balanced. We looked at her as if the end of the world was just around the corner and we had mere seconds to live. None of it mattered after those few seconds, however, because we knew in advance of the possibility and subsequent consequences. WE KNEW. She was right there and we badly needed her to be elsewhere and in two different circumstances. She knew nothing of that shit, thankfully, and is out there somewhere living however she sees fit, and most decidedly unaffected by our situation and problems. Who is she? Many people. Hundreds at times; few during other moments. Today she is everyone. We are no one. We drove and returned, all the while trying to balance our ability to flow with the masses and the other ability to remain calm in the face of utter disaster. Right over there but not related to us. Right there. None of it matters because our reckoning has been going on for years, unbeknownst to us and regardless of such dire needs in life. We thought everything was fairly normal. Nope. We’ve obviously been considered in a bad light and have been on the losing end of the world for longer than we’d care to recall. Seeing her was a part of that. The two shit situations – believe it or not, and even though they are forty-plus years in the past – are a part of it, as well. The reckoning was preordained and so far beyond actual control that we can barely understand the terms involved. There were others attached to this same shit. Many. Some far in the past and some closer to this very moment as we begin to frame the reckoning. They were in the right place for a little while. Some were in the right place for mere minutes; possibly hours for a handful. One was a split fucking second. The end of the world was coming through the door and we gazed at our own destruction as exposed by one little maneuver that we will probably never forget. The end of the world pays no mind to our needs; the destruction rolls along regardless of our pain. Reckoning is unpleasant and unchangeable; It is nigh. We need to find a way of living through some of the more difficult periods without threats or inner posturing. We say ‘inner’ because no one takes us seriously anymore. NO ONE. We have to remain as balanced as possible in the face of disaster, and that includes anything viewed from ‘right over there’, regardless of how much turmoil we end up feeling or how fucking disastrous the situation may become. There will always be things to see right over there, not to mention ‘right fucking over there’. None of it is good, so we need either a long-term plan (depending upon how much longer we may live) or an activity with the power to temporarily heal the wounds left behind by all of them. Perhaps just bandages for the time being. When they fall off, we will try again. There is no way of stopping the reckoning. We feel it in one way or another every single day. Right over there; doesn’t matter. And then right over there; doesn’t matter. None of this matters. We will move along with the day, like always. Squished; routed; disregarded. Angry; sad; hopeless. It is... The WAY OF THINGS. We do not hold any cards. They are elsewhere and most of the time completely hidden until something bad takes place. The way of things. That is all. At least we are aware of such a fact.' The house is very quiet and peaceful this morning. I will have to do a bit of housework soon because not only does it need to be done each day, but I can only sit here for so long before sadness gets the best of me. I am only half angry at half of everything right now. Just half. Yesterday I went further and came out the other side no better for the stupid mood. I can bide my time without demonstrating weakness. The only issue is when I begin to recall dreams or some parts of the past. That has been happening all morning and sending my brain into that girl’s dress, among several other places that shall remain unmentioned. Big surprise. Just keep in mind that everything in my life that has transpired at the hands and mouths of others drove me to think in such a fashion, and most likely also heavily influenced my dreams while asleep. Not even the recent voodoo experiences can stop that shit, believe me. And? Don’t ask. The dream from early this morning has created turmoil inside and I can’t even say why. Well, I can’t say lots of things anymore because though I sometimes mention one woman or another and my deep desire to demonstrate certain affection due to the feelings in my heart, there is much more. So much, in fact, that most days I feel like my head is going to explode from all the suppression. I have so much information hidden away that even I don’t understand it all. The girl in the restaurant was just another symptom of a much larger fucking problem. I genuinely hope I never see her or anything like that again. I need more lines in my head like I need Satan’s fucking penis in my ass. This is a pretty bad fucking morning. I can’t seem to let go of certain past situations and move along like a normal person, whatever that may be. I arose a few minutes ago and took care of the floor and cat litter. There is not much in the kitchen thanks to having food delivered last night. That stuff can wait. I may opt for the morning cocktail for the sole purpose of further suppressing and deluding my feelings of desire that are trying to ruin the day. This is not the fault of that girl, either. She was just a person. The main problem right now is missing pieces of life that I probably will never get back, nor is there much chance of them being replicated in the future. I am stuck. Oh, and I have actually learned something important throughout the course of this year. I have realized that hurting those who care for me is probably too much. I’ve caused plenty of bad situations for others in the past, and my recent thoughts have been pointed toward something much worse. I don’t know if I can do that. Not anytime soon, at least. As much as I need to give everyone a figurative slap across the face, the timing is bad and may never improve. I have to think about everything for a long while. There have been two very specific situations from many years ago that both played out one hundred fucking percent in my favor, neither of which will leave my head this morning. I still can’t believe what took place back then, to be honest, and that thought after so much time. Disbelief does not change the fact that they took place, only that the gradient between now and then continues to widen and cause much pain inside. Regardless of whether or not I deserved such good fortune in the past, both are hurting me as I recall them over and over. I poured the typical morning drink so some feelings can be either numbed or fully suppressed for a while. Perhaps after another hour or so, I can take care of a few chores around the house. The alternative is to have lunch at some point and then do absolutely nothing. Either is fine. My head feels like a theatre with movies endlessly repeating and I can’t seem to do anything about it. Sometimes when I feel helpless to rise I buy an item or two that can make me smile for a little while. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now because I’ve been trying to minimize spending. If not for basic household needs, there is nothing I should be purchasing for a while. Without such a crutch, I don’t know what else can boost me today. When I accomplish something, I don’t feel good about the work like I did in the past. I feel nothing. There is one possibility for a different situation next month, and that is a potential road trip to the southern half of the state to view an exhibit centered around the war in the holy land. If it works, I may be able to tour one of the studios that is very close to the exhibit venue. The trip is a longshot, but I thought I’d mention it anyway. My car would need to be serviced beforehand, only adding to the cost of the whole idea. Right now I just don’t know. Oh, boy. Last night was troublesome. Today is Thursday, I have all the time in the world to do whatever seems best, the house is quiet and peaceful, and the next two days after today will be the same. Years ago this was one hell of a dream. I barely had free time at all. One may believe that after wishing for this type of situation for a very long time and then seeing it come to fruition would be a good thing. It is, partly, yet the freedom also allows my head to wander all over the place because I am almost never truly busy. Such thinking came to a head last night due to a very difficult afternoon. By the time I dropped into bed, my brain was awash with the realization that the reckoning is indeed responsible for the most important aspects of living slowly disappearing during the past two-plus years. I have been paying the tab of life for longer than originally thought. This is not good because the little enjoyments are merely time-fillers, whereas the true joy – one part of that even related to a seemingly small daily enjoyment – is all but gone. I am having problems that were never imagined before and they have already broken my heart and removed a good amount of anger. The latter does not help me, ever. Anger comes and goes regardless of anything being served by way of such moods. Most of the time, nothing changes. Once in a while when I become angry and decide to swing the hammer for a while, there is a positive outcome in the form of accomplishing something very quickly. Cleaning, laundry, or the like. That is all. The other side of being angry is the fact that after the mood passes, I end up right back where I started; nowhere. Last night I realized that the changes which have become apparent since last year are a part of the downfall; the reckoning. The worst part of this is I will have to let go of something that has a history of being beautiful, wondrous and stirring to my core. I have to completely remove the idea from my life or I’ll continue to fight against an immovable object. I may be a fucking depressed basket case, but even I am not stupid enough to continue such a futile process. Unfortunately, leaving those key feelings behind for the rest of my life cannot last very long (definitely not the duration). The reckoning has shortened the potential span of years that I have left, and in the worst terms possible. Worst, indeed. By extension, this is the worst realization I’ve had in many years, and likely the most powerful reason for wishing all feelings away. I used to want to keep some of them in my heart, but no longer. The realization was completely unexpected and will likely alter the flow of content on this fucking site, for good. There can be no going back because the reckoning is nowhere near temporary, especially considering last night’s realization. This is bad, and as many times as I’ve stated as much, the word carries more weight than ever before. I’ve lost something truly dire to my continued existence and I can’t travel back in time to recapture anything. This is the worst. I am sitting here in disbelief, yet at some point I need to go through the daily motions and take care of the house. Reasons are diminishing at an alarming rate. Why did it have to leave? I may be an idiot for not seeing the truth sooner. Despite my desperate need to run away this morning, I allowed some time to pass and took care of the routine. I also have some laundry in the washer. My reward for the housework is sitting here on the table, very icy and yummy. I usually operate mornings in a similar fashion, the drink being after the typical beginning to the day. Now I can sit here and drown my depression with a fucking depressant. Nice, huh? ‘Opposite thinking, lieutenant.’ Thanks, captain. And now... Where do I go from here? Lunch? It is usually a small enjoyment, after which I will generally lose my way and turn into a completely useless pile of shit for some hours. Maybe that will happen and maybe it won’t. Right now I can’t predict. I will finish the laundry and perhaps run a load of dry cleaning. Other than those two, I really have no idea how I will feel later today. Dinner will be pretty straightforward and is already planned. I’ll probably have my program on the television in the kitchen to relax and enjoy cooking. The situation inside my head is horrible. I didn’t need anything else on the pile of shit which I’ve been dealing with for the last few years. I did not fucking need it. I may opt to relax at the dining table to disassemble one of the big models because the work tends to help let go of negative feelings while I follow along with a program on the television. The feelings always return, but if I can be comfortable and distracted for a little while, all the better. When it comes to loss, I have no choice in the matter. Something has to help or I’ll end up in the corner of the backyard with half my head missing. That is not a euphemism. Suicide. Death may be the only pure action left in my world. I don’t want it, though. I will continue to try deluding my life with small moments powerful enough to keep me out of the soil. Had I followed the Raven nine years ago, none of this shit would be necessary. Fifty-fifty, at best. Something always comes to mind that can keep me going a little bit longer. The hour is later and I am no better for the passage of time. I’ve had the music of life on the wireless MDRs for the last two hours in order to help this fragmented, sullen mood continue and drive me through housework and laundry, the downside being reminders of the days of old. Yes, they are old. At the time – and I am referring to the years of fifteen and sixteen when the best path was straight into the soil – they seemed new. All these years later, everything is ancient. Even the melodies playing through the MDRs are ancient, although not as much as a few other titles. I need to switch to desktop music and give my earlobes a break from the heat. Cocktail number two is here on the table, as well. Is it a good idea? Yes and no. Today, I don’t fucking care. I am going to come out the other side of this day all fucked up anyway, so I may as well enjoy something in the meantime. As for the days of old, they conjure images of beauty and wonder, sadness and suicide. The writing was very different back then. Lots of time spent sitting here did not add up to much content because I did more pondering than typing. The reckoning has changed every aspect of my days. I do not work full time anymore, but believe me when I say that my head works more than enough to make up for it. The laundry and dry cleaning are finished, a light lunch is out of the way, and my time is WFO for the remainder of the day. Look it up. The afternoon ahead will NOT be a repeat of yesterday. I can’t have that shit anymore, and due to the relationship between yesterday and my late night realization, there is a possibility that the same situation will never occur again in this life. Worst case, I end up on the sofa watching my current series until dinner time. That is pathetic, yet just fine. I have no wish to do damage or flip out again. The music brings me back to my time with the Raven, but after so many years I do not believe the compositions hit me in a similar manner. When She and I were together, the background focus was always destruction because we connected on such a level almost constantly. At present, I’ve gone in that direction many times and always returned to whatever was left prior to the horrible mood. Her wishes will be served in the longer term, but not now. I have to remain stable until the moment arrives when everything is forced to turn on its ear. Not now. I love Her, yet I need to be vigilant and ensure the actions are appropriate at the time, not before. The music is a two-fold reminder of the past. Moreover, the previous album of songs brought me all the way back nearly fourteen years to a time when every single fucking moment was painted with suicidal tones and more destruction than I had ever felt. Even with a second drink so early in the afternoon, I can still be cognizant of past mistakes. Is that growth? Or is it a lie? Curious; some of these tracks are so long that the ‘ending’ of the composition begins just over halfway through the total running time. For example, the current song runs for 7:39, but the ending sequence begins more than 3 minutes prior to the actual end. That type of dramatic structure partially outlines the way my brain operates; a forceful, powerful ending despite a seemingly docile start, and the division between the two is almost indistinguishable. There is another by a different artist that quite literally defines such a process. The track runs for 10 minutes and 59 seconds total, yet the ending begins more than 4 minutes before its close. Context is everything. That is a point I’ve been trying to drive home for two fucking decades and still no one understands. Maybe I truly am completely alone. Regardless of my position, I will never relinquish my position when it comes to the structure, drama, or storytelling of certain types of music. Period. Oh, but there is more. Rarely have I shared music with other people without the ability to fully mask the artist. That is to say there can be no recording, searching via some fucking music identification application, or viewing of the title or artist. Hiding everything is not easy, but at least I have the advantage of listening to music in which the title is so fucking hidden within the lyrics that there is almost no way of gleaning it. Eh.... Correction. The second track mentioned above entertains a closing section that comprises 3 minutes and 25 seconds instead of 4 minutes. Sorry. Shoot me. No one seems to understand this shit but me. Splendid. Friday. Coffee. Depression. Yearning. Why? Because there was an incredible side view yesterday which allowed me to calculate the vast difference between her breasts and midsection, and seeing such a fucking shelf above reminded me of the very first time I sat next to the Raven and spied something similar. I marveled at both, nine-plus years apart, and now look at me. The same behavior, the same fucking need, and the same Goddamned stance toward the world and the manner in which I turned out after decades. Shit. The sun will not decide whether or not to shine through my office window. I refuse to pop out of the chair every few minutes to adjust. I’ll just have to be closed off for a while. I really don’t care which way, but one or the other, please. Anyway, I do not recall any dreams from the night and nothing else pushed me further down, yet the damage has already been done. The realization has damaged me beyond belief. There have been moments since yesterday when I calculated something like this seemed to be on the horizon. I felt it, for lack of a better description. Well, once in a while there was an inkling in the back of my mind that a door would close and then disappear for all time, and that took place partly because of the reckoning. I always state that there is no good on my horizon. This is some of the bad. More is likely coming soon, but I will say this is the worst possible turn of the card I could have imagined in a million years. Be careful with your decisions. Trust me. When they return, you may be in lots of pain. I still don’t know what I can do to ease the difficulty inherent in such a loss. Yesterday I drank a touch more than usual, but not to the point of being stupid. I ended up tired. That’s all. Today I’ll probably be outside for a little while just in case my neighbor needs some of my tools. Any conversation regarding motor vehicles will help the stunning side view fade from my consciousness. The alternative is for that beauty to lead me back to the realization, and that will not end well for anyone. I’ll do whatever I can today in order to avoid finding a path to destruction. Part of my life has been removed and there is nothing I can do about it. One path is to accept and try to live anyway. The other path? The ‘end expected’. I may have to go to the market later this morning. The idea is ok, for the most part, but I always fear there will be something special over there with the power to fold me in half. The last one was fucking horrible. The last thing I need right now is another reminder that part of my life has been destroyed. If I do decide to go, the trip will be quick. No wandering eyes; no searching. I’ll have to get the hell in and out as efficiently as possible. That is that. Today already feels like shit and the clock is not even halfway past nine. Marvelous. I don’t believe the potential trip in October is a good idea, and that despite an offer to lodge with family to keep costs down. It’s still not a good idea. On the upside, without a hotel reservation, I need not worry about any downsides whichever way the decision goes. Right now I am leaning toward remaining home. I am more concerned about being uncomfortable far from home than I am about seeing any possible beauty. One is easier to deal with than the other, but I really don’t need any discomfort right now because there is already plenty of shit in my head that drags me down each morning and leaves me almost completely worthless later in the day. I just don’t think leaving here for three or four days is a good thing. Later. The usual housework is finished and my morning cocktail is nearly gone. I made some adjustments to the layout of each entry as driven by a desire to identify entries with mature content, although one could argue that the entire site could benefit from such a warning. Whatever the case, I added a blurb to the subheader of the newest essay. Future work will follow suit. I felt that the warning which previously lived at the top of the footer was not a good idea because of the suspicion that visitors may read from top to bottom before seeing anything contained within the footer. Or maybe no one even knows there is a footer. They may not care either way, but I decided to make the change to serve my own interest in making certain this content appears professional even if it is not. Working on the structure and appearance of the site tends to relax me when my head goes sideways. Today is no different, and I am pleased to report that the mood right now is very mellow as compared to yesterday at the same time. This is good, yet I don’t know the reason for the change. Maybe I just decided that there has already been enough damage and opted for a better direction today. Regardless of the reasoning or genesis, I feel better than I had predicted earlier and am ready for the hours ahead. Another day has disappeared for all time. Today is Saturday, and the hour is later than usual as I finally sit here to analyze and explore. Cocktail hour is at hand, too. Very nice. This is a part of each day that I somewhat enjoy; once the routine is out of the way and I have some time to get off my feet and think. This morning I’ve been working on an older entry regarding the ‘passion’, mostly cleaning up the text and reorganizing images. The essay will be available again soon. It has been offline for some months, perhaps as long as a year. I can’t remember. In any case, I’ve been editing and adding thoughts here and there primarily because the way I view my own writing has changed since that entry was first published more than seven years ago. Moreover, I wanted to add some commentary regarding the thoughts by people which followed one excellent and very clear review that I’ve read several times. People were being ridiculous and toying with ideas that have no basis in reality, nor do the comments paint the individuals in a favorable light. No specifics will be included aside from my own views. Between the main format, the master page and archive listings, I’ve spent more time on the backend than I have continuing with my obsession, the topics of beauty and desire, or those two horrible situations from the past. The reasoning behind such a change is my stance on the realization from the other night – a very important (perhaps the MOST important) aspect of living that has disappeared, possibly never to return. I needed to distract myself from that hellish feeling for a while because the direction of my head was straight down, as in a path to hell itself. I will not likely be headed in any other direction when I leave this earth. Very sad, but at least I am aware of what I am and all that I’ve done. In short, I need to leave all that shit alone for a while and move in other directions in order to preserve the time that I have left. I am very passionate about the ‘passion’, for lack of a better description, and must unload my feelings to the essay in question before it is published once again. Aside from beauty and the direction of the site as related to the same, the subject of that essay is the most important ‘thing’ in the world to me. It is also impossible without some insane set of circumstances coming to pass in the near future. All I have are my words. For the remainder of the morning, my thoughts will be directed toward the ‘passion’, and will not appear here in this backward essay. I will say that I saw Zoe on the television again this morning and my heart performed gymnastics. Splendid. I wish she could hold me. The weather is very humid, although there is a cloud layer that is obscuring the sunshine. That’s probably a good thing for someone such as myself who prefers the cool climate. There is a storm system to the north, but I don’t know if that is what’s affecting the humidity here. Something more south may be the culprit. Whichever it is, I’ll have to make certain that any moving of items or cleaning is finished prior to lunch. The afternoon will probably end up very warm. On the upside, the furnace has been dormant for weeks. Excellent. I still have yet to move the computer tower because the project is daunting. I may even have to pick up a longer cable for the left-hand display. Not a big deal. Something is happening outside. I need to investigate. Hmm... The neighbor two doors down is having a garage sale. I interfaced with the closer neighbor and determined that there was a picnic cooler over there. I had the idea of creating a ‘fog cooler’ for my Halloween display this year, and a cooler is one critical component and would perform far better than a simple plastic container. I went over there and picked it up for a song, also learning that the seller is fostering kittens right now. Wow. I may adopt two siblings in the next week or so because I am a glutton for cat-related punishment. To that end, the idea of adding two kittens to the household has been floating around for several years. The process would involve isolating them for some days in order to acclimate the little guys to the climate of this house and the scent of the two adult cats that have been here for more than a decade. I’m sure there would be some difficulty, but at least I am already fluent in the process of adapting kittens to a house with adult cats and the related atmosphere. They need to be introduced slowly and carefully, lest the adults become irate. I’ll have to think about the idea for a while. As for the cooler, I can modify it for fog chilling very easily at very little expense. Fog is very warm, and as such does not flow along the ground. Building a chiller would cool the mist and cause it to flow down the driveway. For five dollars, I am willing to experiment with the project and see if it bears fruit. Halloween is one of those nights that I’ve loved for decades. I usually try to make the most of it because the holiday flies by very quickly. One evening; that is all. None of this has anything to do with the reckoning, but I have to embrace anything with the power to keep my mind at ease. Along such lines... The electric bike has become yet another crazy project. I stripped it of excess and unnecessary weight, and yesterday pulled apart the wiring harness between the speed controller and throttle handle. After a few minutes of testing, I determined the flow of operation and have a working idea for increasing top speed. The process is very slow, however, and often interrupted by anything related to either beauty or the recent realization that my life has been permanently altered beyond my control. At some point I will break out test equipment and determine if the system can be modified without replacing the speed controller. I have a hard time caring about anything frivolous for more than a few minutes, and that is the reason the bike has not advanced beyond the discovery stage. Historically, I’ve been a champion of disassembling items that are otherwise labeled as ‘unable to be modified by end users’, and the bike is no different. A basic understanding of DC voltage and the way it behaves is the underlying reason. Many people accept those types of items and never do anything outside the scope of the instruction booklet. I, on the other hand, see the item as something that can be advanced beyond the original intent. If the work can keep me out of the soil, all the better. Sunday morning. Coffee. The drive is behind me, ahead is the usual business. I need to maintain an even keel for the most part today because regardless of how others have affected my condition, I do not wish to cause problems right now. I want to be a hole in the world... Barely noticeable at all. That seems to be the best way to proceed until something better comes along. Well, if something better comes along, that is. I don’t know much about anything lately, least of all the future. The truth is that the only aspects of the coming days, weeks, or months that are guaranteed are more changes to the negative and increased problems around the world. Whenever my brain returns to the glowing years – sometimes later periods, as well – the comparisons begin to cause me to feel very sad, and then the only thing I can do is try to find some activity with the ability to lift me for a little while. That’s it. The reminders are few, yet very powerful. Just this morning on the way back from the City, an old retailer popped into my head for some reason. That place was frequented by me (‘us’) during the glow. Nothing of the kind exists anymore because all of the interesting products have been rolled into damned few items that are quite boring. That is not why I was thinking of that period, however. The power lies in the way I felt about the appearance of the world back then, not just indiscriminate products that had been entertaining, but believe me when I say they were plentiful. No more of that. Technology has been boiled down, reduced to sludge. Today I will have to take care of household business and try to seek those little moments that can help me relax. The reckoning was wholly apparent last night. I was hit once again during dinner. I knew it; I felt as if yet another enjoyment was at risk. The evidence has been mounting, the worst part being the realization the other morning that sent me spiraling down without anything to grab. I could not slow the descent, and now that there is an additional example of the process called ‘paying the tab’, there can be little doubt that eventually something else will be removed and I will have to reach even further to find a reasonable amount of temporary comfort. This is a very bad state of affairs. The enjoyment that was absent last night has actually been around for a few years. The difference is that due to other factors having been generated throughout the last few months, I can say with certainty that the reckoning is upon me and I am even more certain that there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it. Distraction may be the key for continuing to live. That is fucking sad, damn it. I guess I just know too much. The coffee is waning. The incident at the restaurant just popped into my head due to seeking something I wrote last year. Damn. Picturing her lines again and the fact that they were completely BARE is not going to help matters this morning. I need to be productive fairly early just in case I fall off a cliff later this afternoon. I don’t need those gorgeous little curves in my fucking head right now. Not good. I wish that incident had not taken place. It was a reminder of five years ago when I looked up and saw the pool girl barely wrapped in a fucking thong and lying there with her knees up and paired. No other position shows off those most intimate of curves. The obsession just never goes away. I’ll have to do some work very soon. And I did. The routine is finished and I have my typical glass of whiskey here on the table. Very exciting, eh? Whatever. This is what I have become, all full of lines and booze. Oh, and the reckoning continues unimpeded. If I am unable to extricate the shit from my brain, the rest of the day may not amount to much at all. That’s fine. I don’t really care. There are two items on my list, one being the fact that I need to rebuild and lubricate the back door handle and lock, and the other is I need to further research a wiring harness for the fucking bike. Yep... I think I messed up by cutting too many lines without fully investigating the connections. Now I can’t get the damned rear wheel to move no matter what I try. That’s also just fine because eventually I’ll either figure it out or replace the harness. They are very cheap. Other than those two projects, I don’t give half a shit what else is accomplished. Dinner is already planned, so cooking will be easy. I need to place an order at the big wine store because I am out of my regular booze, meaning I am sipping Canadian whiskey which is much more expensive. I don’t want to get used to it, either. Not good. ‘Woe is Monday; where we live; One or another will have to give. Push and pull; toss her thing; She knows not the reckoning.’ Indeed. The usual. Everyone who has visited here before is already aware of what the first weekday means. I have to visit three different stores in less than an hour. Ugh. I’d rather stay here and take care of whatever is most pressing. And speaking of pressing, the reckoning is perched atop my head at this very moment. I can’t do anything about it, either. Last night it was apparent just like the previous evening and I didn’t like the feeling one bit. I expect nothing good, only more of the same. Shopping will either be difficult or not. There is no way to know, but I have to do it anyway. Returning will be very nice, as always, and can likely open the rest of the day to more positive thoughts. Heading into the masses of society can be very uncomfortable and disconcerting at times. I just have to push. Forcing the issue gets it done more quickly and finds me back here sooner. Less than an hour. Shit. This is not going to end no matter how much I might wish it away. There is nothing I can do. The reckoning is fully in charge. The two shit situations continue to press me into a mold of someone completely unrecognizable as a person. Memories of the glowing years, the afterglow, and those moments that found me exactly where I needed to be cannot return regardless of my needs or how bad the current situation becomes. Everything hurts me, and then just when I seem to be finding a moment’s relief, the reckoning slams me and destroys any comfort or enjoyment. I’ve seen too much; I’ve known too much. I wish I didn’t know anything. Freedom from thinking. Freedom from remembering. Freedom from the reckoning?"
The Reckoning
Mature content No. 422 Published August 26th, 2024 9:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"There was no reckoning because we cannot follow a single line of thinking anymore. There has been far too much bullshit affecting us lately. Just when we find a smidgen of comfort, everything becomes derailed and we end up full of pain and heartache all over again. The clarity never lasts. We can either continue in the same haphazard, pathetic vein or try something else, but what? Which direction? Anger? That emotion never accomplishes anything. Sadness? We have no choice but to be sad. As with everything else we’ve been wrestling for years, solutions continue to elude our consciousness. This situation is fucking pathetic, mostly because some years ago we actually felt accomplished, viable and effective in some aspects of life. Lately, we feel very, very little of those. Tiny moments. That’s all. This morning is just like all the others. We will think, finish the coffee, hit the daily routine and then pour a cocktail and return to whatever this endeavor has become. Um... We may know that last one. A repeating mess of depressing information, none of which is interesting in the least. We went back and changed the previous entry to better reflect the content. The title is now more appropriate considering that a good portion of the essay is focused upon our feelings regarding the girl at the restaurant and how those few moments forced us to look into the past. Changing a title does not typically happen after publishing, but with that mess we felt it necessary. We also went into the archive and rebuilt the page for ease of access, by date. A separate page for each year is just not good. We did all that work and then felt like it did not match the streamlined nature the rest of the site enjoys. We may have a large number of entries linked there, but honestly, this endeavor is quite small in the scheme of the Internet. All we’d like is to have everything organized and as compact as possible. If the shit ever hits the fan, the whole of the site can be carried in less than one pocket. Not bad. This morning began much later than usual due to being up fairly late last night. The day will move along just fine, but the start has been a tad slower than we are normally accustomed. There was some very compelling conversation regarding automotive work in general and drag racing in particular. Such discussions generally run late because the subject matter is often compelling. We were involved in the sport dating all the way back to the early seventies and understand the processes and equipment involved, even to this very day. Anyway, the house is quiet and mellow, ideal for thinking about everything. Mostly we are trying to consider the ramifications of the other night and just how powerful that sort of thing has become. We often feel completely broken due to something that can be defined as pretty simple. Drag racing can be complicated, but at the same time, our feelings toward the girl and her lines are completely off the fucking complication scale. We need to find a key as to ‘why’ all of it has become so painful. That’s right, after tens of thousands of lines of code and many, many years of analysis, we still don’t understand. We are beginning to believe that no matter the good we’ve done for others, the reckoning is not for them; not even those who wronged us. Our current mental and emotional states could be the reckoning – much worse than simply paying the tab of life – and we may have been mired within it for a very long time without truly realizing the sheer scope. Everything from heartache over beauty and all facets therein to the simplicity of not being able to taste our food on occasion. Little things, not cataclysmic events. Small. At the outset of the previous entry, our mood had been diminished considerably, and thus we pointed everything toward other people. We began to see the reverse almost immediately, changed the stance a little bit at a time as the content grew, and eventually reverted to a different title more reflecting what happened in the restaurant and the way she related to some past events. All of that shit must be considered. The peaceful, quiet nature of the house can hopefully help us today. The mood did not change. We were relegated a little bit due to the timing of everything, although the hours passed reasonably well, which is pretty much all we can ask for these days. We don’t expect actual ‘good’. Sunday is here. We took the drive and it went very smoothly. Nothing to see. No one there. Only a few cars and very cooperative traffic signals. Now that the drive is out of the way, we can try to focus upon everything that needs to be accomplished along with some thinking toward finding comfort and security for a little while. One of the ideas yesterday was to begin with a measure of very simple streamlining and see if it leads to anything further. Along the way, the same questions will likely swirl around inside and perhaps leave us angry. We need to remain calm while working in order to avoid a huge pitfall today. Yesterday morning turned out to be a complete fucking disaster. That can’t happen again or our reaction may be very unpleasant. We can’t even get back from ‘we’ to ‘I’. Something is holding us back from being relaxed enough to make the change. There is also a bit of rancor left over from the other night. We don’t understand that one, either. This morning will have to be taken one moment at a time. Curious; while driving this morning we heard the word ‘reckoning’ three times during an interview on the radio. What are the odds of that after titling one essay and mentioning the same word here multiple times during the course of mere days? Very odd, that stuff. Much like occurrences of the number 47 – those are unreal, to be honest – we were thrown by hearing the aforementioned word this morning. Are there voodoo forces around us? Either that, or a series of coincidences. We do not know what to think. Whatever the case, the title has created a touch of discomfort inside. The clock rolls on regardless of our need to sit here and consider the events of the past week – including something that can’t be mentioned, yet stirred us to the core nonetheless – while trying to understand the genesis. We have clues and ideas, but nothing concrete. Maybe that’s about as good as it gets with this shit. Some questions about life simply cannot be answered. We are hoping for a little better than that statement. The parts of life that hold power over us are mysteries. Sometimes we feel that the problem is internal, meaning we are at fault for allowing what could be considered by some as trivial matters. To us, they are aspects of living that have defined us for more than two decades, and perhaps longer. Trivializing the situation and our condition is not something we would take lightly. Fortunately, no one knows the whole truth of the fucking thing, otherwise we would have to sit here experiencing difficulting while also knowing that there could be a person out there laughing about it. Of course, that is a bit unrealistic, but the fear exists nonetheless. We’ve become far too sensitive about the topics explored here to easily relax and conclude that we need not be concerned about what others think. That is the truth. Deeply personal issues are probably not pleasant for anyone to reveal to another. We realize that we’re not the only ones with problems, yet our inclination toward suppression and denying ourselves professional help are unhealthy and could lead to far worse circumstances. As of yet, the only reasonable path to help has actually been the most unreasonable. Unacceptable to many, as well. We keep trying, and the world seems to be dictating that whenever we get a handle on some of it, a derailment hits us and we regress, much like last Saturday evening at the restaurant. The turmoil, when combined with a few other difficulties we’ve been experiencing for a while, may very well be the reckoning. The question remains, however... Do we deserve this? Or can we be allowed to apply that word? Like every other question, there is no answer. We can still see her, we still want to be close (to the lines, of course), and we still feel a desperate need to understand why that vision is so fucking powerful. We’ve been close before. Perhaps the fear of never being close to what we need again is a catalyst. Not much is certain. Only death. What a pleasant thought. Ugh. Too much fear. Too much need. There is just too much all the fucking time. The routine has been finished and we have a nice glass of depressing liquid here on the table. As for the rest of the day, there is garbage business and some laundry. That is all. The weather is still quite humid, and if the sun continues to shine into the late afternoon, the house will be too warm for any physical work. We will have to focus upon either the garage or shed. Hmm... Focus. That’s a joke. Any focusing on housework is most decidedly temporary. We have little choice in the matter, however the work needs to be addressed regardless of how fucking sideways we become. The numbing effects of the booze are creeping in. Very good. Everything seems a little bit easier when such a state comes along, the downside being when there is too much numbing. Very bad. At least we know our limits. Some people never learn when to avoid drinking excessive alcohol and the results are on the news almost every day. We’ve done that, too, so there shall be no judgment. Just a thought. Anyway, from here forward we will begin the laundry and take care of the garbage. The afternoon will prove to be fairly rewarding once some of the housework is completed. The sideways mood is still present. We must draw a line and push ourselves to the other side if this day is to be productive.
The line was behind us for a while. Everything we set out to do is now finished. There are only small details remaining before dinner preparations. Monday morning may roll right over us if we are not careful. Feelings are haphazard; stirring. We are angry and hopeful at the same time. There is pain inside, two-fold. We will have to be careful today and try to keep the anger at bay. We do not want to swing the hammer or otherwise flip out, even for a little while. The action never ends well, nor does it accomplish anything good. The coffee is nearly gone. We are going to head to the gas station and then the market. Upon returning, we shall finish the morning business and pour a glass of whiskey. Alcohol has the single ability to suppress or otherwise make any feelings of desire disappear for a while. Back to the singular. I don’t want to die without remembering the feeling. I don’t want to die a frail fraction of what I once was. Well, maybe I was never what I thought. Think of the keywords. Two of them stand head and shoulders above the rest. Tuesday. What does this mean? Not much. I am already heading sideways due to remembering too much, and two items stand head and shoulders above the rest. One is a continuation of the tremendous aftereffects of seeing the girl in the restaurant, and the other is the fact that there are very important aspects of life that I have lived but now realize I can no longer remember. That’s right... I can’t recall the feelings. This fact represents something unexpected and frightening. Moreover, the relationship between a lack of memory and the dreamy, ethereal state of the fucking ‘purity’ is the worst aspect of trying to understand how my condition developed into this hellish loss-laden pit in the first place. I can’t remember. This is the lowest point I’ve ever felt. I can’t fucking remember how it felt. I can’t take much more of this. And I won’t even go into the topic of the ‘thing’. That is another level, and one I simply can’t fucking deal with right now. My shit sundae already has enough cherries perched and balanced on top. I wish I could erase my remaining memories of the past. Everything is finished. Well, the usual crap, anyway. I don’t know what else I’ll be able to accomplish today because my mood keeps trying to swing into the negative; the hammer. I don’t want it because nothing is served by becoming angry and lashing out. The other side of that shit is always the same... Right back where I started with the same problems. Only one true solution can be seen, and it is most decidedly impossible. I don’t deal with conundrums very well. Think of a cornered camel. The only positive right now is all this free time. It’s also a negative because I can’t stop thinking and most days have a hell of a time distracting myself from the end expected. Freedom from thought; freedom from pain; freedom from further damage. The end expected. Hmm. The mood has changed from streaming video media to the music of life. This is not good. The end expected; a phrase I have employed here for a very long time. Years. Will it ever happen? Will I arrive at that point? No answers, just like with every other fucking question. There are several individuals that will not react well to said end. Of that there can be no doubt, but what does that mean for me? Do I continue suffering like this solely for the benefit of other people? What places them above me? Good luck finding an answer. One more cocktail could mean walls falling and no more words on the site. All it takes is a moment of weakness for this to end for all time. Sometimes I feel that all I need is the peace and quiet of this house. During other times, I feel that what I really need is a fireman’s axe and one single minute of lashing out toward everything I’ve written for more than twenty years. Destruction, plain and simple. This is not a good day by any means. God help anyone who approaches this property today. I most certainly will not. Anger... A true emotion that cannot be addressed through platitudes and placation. I wish I could enter the forest. The wireless MDRs are fully charged. That means I have the ability to at least hear it. Maybe I should eat something light and then head to the front yard for some tree trimming. The hammer swing may be inevitable today. Nothing will be served, but at least I will feel some RF power for a little while. Better than nothing. All I have to do is refill my glass. One of two situations will result. Either I will blast the music of life and cause the neighborhood to wonder what is happening at this address, or I will end up in the corner of the backyard for the last time. No one understands, and there are two reasons. One is the music. The other is the literal truth that I have not communicated my feelings to another human being for a very long time. I can’t blame those who know me. I really can’t. They operate on what they know or have heard, whereas my primary mission is to leave the entire world in the dark. That is the only hand of cards I possess. Whatever the next few days, weeks, months or years may hold, one fact remains... I will demonstrate my dissatisfaction and disdain through a single act of violence that shall leave those people bereft of understanding. To be clear, I will commit suicide and leave everyone and everything behind. It is just a matter of time. My mood is very reckless right now. This can be a positive, believe it or not, because those who know me will not understand such a stance. They just look at me and wonder what could be wrong. I am looking at a fork. One tine is pointing toward having lunch and allowing this day to fade into obscurity, and the other is pointed directly at today being my last day alive. Two tines, not three. I went to the garage for a cigarette and blasted one track in the interest of extending my very negative mood. Nothing was accomplished; nothing was served. I killed the power of the mighty garage audio system and switched to the wireless MDRs. At least no one else will be made aware of this horrible mood or my pathetic place in the world. Still no food; only alcohol. I am powerless to affect anything these days. My saving throws are diminishing, much like any will to go on living. Tomorrow I have to make the drive to the City, and if the current mood does not lighten, I will be taking my car in order to carry forward with the idea that I am not the person to be trifled or trivialized. God help people if I ever come into the resources for proper reproduction of this music. No one understands; no one WILL understand, ever. The headphones are fully charged. Maybe trimming the tree is the best idea for the next hour. Curious... Sometimes I have to demonstrate my mood through the garage system, whereas during other times I keep it to myself. After twenty years of the same decision, I still don’t know what is best. I fucking LOVE ignoring people, yet when I feel reckless, blasting uncomfortable compositions from the big system in the garage is unavoidable. RF power seems to be the only true influence I have left in the world. Moreover, the same idea may be my only defense against the reckoning. As of yet, I’ve had nothing to eat, and that means my fingers are not able to accurately flow across the keyboard. This may be the right time to grab my tools and climb into the tree. Another day is gone. The tree idea was nearly a bust because one of the neighbors decided to drop by – I didn’t even know he was present until I looked down from twelve feet in the air – and bend my ear about his fucking plumbing projects. That was a partial waste of time. I still thinned the tree quite a bit. The afternoon rather turned to shit, though, and that despite my efforts to be productive. I guess everything got the best of me for a little while and sent the mood south. I didn’t even cook dinner. Food was ordered. The calendar has changed again and like always, today being Wednesday. I feel a little bit better on one front, yet further down on another. Dreams early this morning took my sense and reason away for the tenth time in as many weeks, effectively leaving me to wonder if this is all there is to be; a future appearing as bleak as the past few years. I took the drive – pretty slow thanks to more traffic than usual – and saw a few difficult sights in the City, yet none of them compare to experiencing more damaging imagery and feelings while dreaming. My head is awash with thoughts and memories related to losses that have been mounting for quite some time. My heart hurts again. I need some fucking help, damn it. Even the simplicity of revealing a few things that have been swirling inside for many years could do part of the trick, but protection has to be maintained. This is a conundrum which sometimes resembles a paradox. I don’t know which is worse. And something else is now affecting my ability to think and type... 'Right over there, and right over there. Close, but not too much so; far away. That one and then that one and then back to the first. Right there. Very close; not often. Far away most of the time, just like that elusive dress that we love so much. Right over there. A billion miles away. Both at the same time. We saw her; we saw quite a bit. And then everything fell apart and we had trouble considering ourselves rational and even slightly balanced. We looked at her as if the end of the world was just around the corner and we had mere seconds to live. None of it mattered after those few seconds, however, because we knew in advance of the possibility and subsequent consequences. WE KNEW. She was right there and we badly needed her to be elsewhere and in two different circumstances. She knew nothing of that shit, thankfully, and is out there somewhere living however she sees fit, and most decidedly unaffected by our situation and problems. Who is she? Many people. Hundreds at times; few during other moments. Today she is everyone. We are no one. We drove and returned, all the while trying to balance our ability to flow with the masses and the other ability to remain calm in the face of utter disaster. Right over there but not related to us. Right there. None of it matters because our reckoning has been going on for years, unbeknownst to us and regardless of such dire needs in life. We thought everything was fairly normal. Nope. We’ve obviously been considered in a bad light and have been on the losing end of the world for longer than we’d care to recall. Seeing her was a part of that. The two shit situations – believe it or not, and even though they are forty-plus years in the past – are a part of it, as well. The reckoning was preordained and so far beyond actual control that we can barely understand the terms involved. There were others attached to this same shit. Many. Some far in the past and some closer to this very moment as we begin to frame the reckoning. They were in the right place for a little while. Some were in the right place for mere minutes; possibly hours for a handful. One was a split fucking second. The end of the world was coming through the door and we gazed at our own destruction as exposed by one little maneuver that we will probably never forget. The end of the world pays no mind to our needs; the destruction rolls along regardless of our pain. Reckoning is unpleasant and unchangeable; It is nigh. We need to find a way of living through some of the more difficult periods without threats or inner posturing. We say ‘inner’ because no one takes us seriously anymore. NO ONE. We have to remain as balanced as possible in the face of disaster, and that includes anything viewed from ‘right over there’, regardless of how much turmoil we end up feeling or how fucking disastrous the situation may become. There will always be things to see right over there, not to mention ‘right fucking over there’. None of it is good, so we need either a long-term plan (depending upon how much longer we may live) or an activity with the power to temporarily heal the wounds left behind by all of them. Perhaps just bandages for the time being. When they fall off, we will try again. There is no way of stopping the reckoning. We feel it in one way or another every single day. Right over there; doesn’t matter. And then right over there; doesn’t matter. None of this matters. We will move along with the day, like always. Squished; routed; disregarded. Angry; sad; hopeless. It is... The WAY OF THINGS. We do not hold any cards. They are elsewhere and most of the time completely hidden until something bad takes place. The way of things. That is all. At least we are aware of such a fact.'
The house is very quiet and peaceful this morning. I will have to do a bit of housework soon because not only does it need to be done each day, but I can only sit here for so long before sadness gets the best of me. I am only half angry at half of everything right now. Just half. Yesterday I went further and came out the other side no better for the stupid mood. I can bide my time without demonstrating weakness. The only issue is when I begin to recall dreams or some parts of the past. That has been happening all morning and sending my brain into that girl’s dress, among several other places that shall remain unmentioned. Big surprise. Just keep in mind that everything in my life that has transpired at the hands and mouths of others drove me to think in such a fashion, and most likely also heavily influenced my dreams while asleep. Not even the recent voodoo experiences can stop that shit, believe me. And? Don’t ask. The dream from early this morning has created turmoil inside and I can’t even say why. Well, I can’t say lots of things anymore because though I sometimes mention one woman or another and my deep desire to demonstrate certain affection due to the feelings in my heart, there is much more. So much, in fact, that most days I feel like my head is going to explode from all the suppression. I have so much information hidden away that even I don’t understand it all. The girl in the restaurant was just another symptom of a much larger fucking problem. I genuinely hope I never see her or anything like that again. I need more lines in my head like I need Satan’s fucking penis in my ass. This is a pretty bad fucking morning. I can’t seem to let go of certain past situations and move along like a normal person, whatever that may be. I arose a few minutes ago and took care of the floor and cat litter. There is not much in the kitchen thanks to having food delivered last night. That stuff can wait. I may opt for the morning cocktail for the sole purpose of further suppressing and deluding my feelings of desire that are trying to ruin the day. This is not the fault of that girl, either. She was just a person. The main problem right now is missing pieces of life that I probably will never get back, nor is there much chance of them being replicated in the future. I am stuck. Oh, and I have actually learned something important throughout the course of this year. I have realized that hurting those who care for me is probably too much. I’ve caused plenty of bad situations for others in the past, and my recent thoughts have been pointed toward something much worse. I don’t know if I can do that. Not anytime soon, at least. As much as I need to give everyone a figurative slap across the face, the timing is bad and may never improve. I have to think about everything for a long while. There have been two very specific situations from many years ago that both played out one hundred fucking percent in my favor, neither of which will leave my head this morning. I still can’t believe what took place back then, to be honest, and that thought after so much time. Disbelief does not change the fact that they took place, only that the gradient between now and then continues to widen and cause much pain inside. Regardless of whether or not I deserved such good fortune in the past, both are hurting me as I recall them over and over. I poured the typical morning drink so some feelings can be either numbed or fully suppressed for a while. Perhaps after another hour or so, I can take care of a few chores around the house. The alternative is to have lunch at some point and then do absolutely nothing. Either is fine. My head feels like a theatre with movies endlessly repeating and I can’t seem to do anything about it. Sometimes when I feel helpless to rise I buy an item or two that can make me smile for a little while. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now because I’ve been trying to minimize spending. If not for basic household needs, there is nothing I should be purchasing for a while. Without such a crutch, I don’t know what else can boost me today. When I accomplish something, I don’t feel good about the work like I did in the past. I feel nothing. There is one possibility for a different situation next month, and that is a potential road trip to the southern half of the state to view an exhibit centered around the war in the holy land. If it works, I may be able to tour one of the studios that is very close to the exhibit venue. The trip is a longshot, but I thought I’d mention it anyway. My car would need to be serviced beforehand, only adding to the cost of the whole idea. Right now I just don’t know. Oh, boy. Last night was troublesome. Today is Thursday, I have all the time in the world to do whatever seems best, the house is quiet and peaceful, and the next two days after today will be the same. Years ago this was one hell of a dream. I barely had free time at all. One may believe that after wishing for this type of situation for a very long time and then seeing it come to fruition would be a good thing. It is, partly, yet the freedom also allows my head to wander all over the place because I am almost never truly busy. Such thinking came to a head last night due to a very difficult afternoon. By the time I dropped into bed, my brain was awash with the realization that the reckoning is indeed responsible for the most important aspects of living slowly disappearing during the past two-plus years. I have been paying the tab of life for longer than originally thought. This is not good because the little enjoyments are merely time-fillers, whereas the true joy – one part of that even related to a seemingly small daily enjoyment – is all but gone. I am having problems that were never imagined before and they have already broken my heart and removed a good amount of anger. The latter does not help me, ever. Anger comes and goes regardless of anything being served by way of such moods. Most of the time, nothing changes. Once in a while when I become angry and decide to swing the hammer for a while, there is a positive outcome in the form of accomplishing something very quickly. Cleaning, laundry, or the like. That is all. The other side of being angry is the fact that after the mood passes, I end up right back where I started; nowhere. Last night I realized that the changes which have become apparent since last year are a part of the downfall; the reckoning. The worst part of this is I will have to let go of something that has a history of being beautiful, wondrous and stirring to my core. I have to completely remove the idea from my life or I’ll continue to fight against an immovable object. I may be a fucking depressed basket case, but even I am not stupid enough to continue such a futile process. Unfortunately, leaving those key feelings behind for the rest of my life cannot last very long (definitely not the duration). The reckoning has shortened the potential span of years that I have left, and in the worst terms possible. Worst, indeed. By extension, this is the worst realization I’ve had in many years, and likely the most powerful reason for wishing all feelings away. I used to want to keep some of them in my heart, but no longer. The realization was completely unexpected and will likely alter the flow of content on this fucking site, for good. There can be no going back because the reckoning is nowhere near temporary, especially considering last night’s realization. This is bad, and as many times as I’ve stated as much, the word carries more weight than ever before. I’ve lost something truly dire to my continued existence and I can’t travel back in time to recapture anything. This is the worst. I am sitting here in disbelief, yet at some point I need to go through the daily motions and take care of the house. Reasons are diminishing at an alarming rate. Why did it have to leave? I may be an idiot for not seeing the truth sooner. Despite my desperate need to run away this morning, I allowed some time to pass and took care of the routine. I also have some laundry in the washer. My reward for the housework is sitting here on the table, very icy and yummy. I usually operate mornings in a similar fashion, the drink being after the typical beginning to the day. Now I can sit here and drown my depression with a fucking depressant. Nice, huh? ‘Opposite thinking, lieutenant.’ Thanks, captain. And now... Where do I go from here? Lunch? It is usually a small enjoyment, after which I will generally lose my way and turn into a completely useless pile of shit for some hours. Maybe that will happen and maybe it won’t. Right now I can’t predict. I will finish the laundry and perhaps run a load of dry cleaning. Other than those two, I really have no idea how I will feel later today. Dinner will be pretty straightforward and is already planned. I’ll probably have my program on the television in the kitchen to relax and enjoy cooking. The situation inside my head is horrible. I didn’t need anything else on the pile of shit which I’ve been dealing with for the last few years. I did not fucking need it. I may opt to relax at the dining table to disassemble one of the big models because the work tends to help let go of negative feelings while I follow along with a program on the television. The feelings always return, but if I can be comfortable and distracted for a little while, all the better. When it comes to loss, I have no choice in the matter. Something has to help or I’ll end up in the corner of the backyard with half my head missing. That is not a euphemism. Suicide. Death may be the only pure action left in my world. I don’t want it, though. I will continue to try deluding my life with small moments powerful enough to keep me out of the soil. Had I followed the Raven nine years ago, none of this shit would be necessary. Fifty-fifty, at best. Something always comes to mind that can keep me going a little bit longer.
The hour is later and I am no better for the passage of time. I’ve had the music of life on the wireless MDRs for the last two hours in order to help this fragmented, sullen mood continue and drive me through housework and laundry, the downside being reminders of the days of old. Yes, they are old. At the time – and I am referring to the years of fifteen and sixteen when the best path was straight into the soil – they seemed new. All these years later, everything is ancient. Even the melodies playing through the MDRs are ancient, although not as much as a few other titles. I need to switch to desktop music and give my earlobes a break from the heat. Cocktail number two is here on the table, as well. Is it a good idea? Yes and no. Today, I don’t fucking care. I am going to come out the other side of this day all fucked up anyway, so I may as well enjoy something in the meantime. As for the days of old, they conjure images of beauty and wonder, sadness and suicide. The writing was very different back then. Lots of time spent sitting here did not add up to much content because I did more pondering than typing. The reckoning has changed every aspect of my days. I do not work full time anymore, but believe me when I say that my head works more than enough to make up for it. The laundry and dry cleaning are finished, a light lunch is out of the way, and my time is WFO for the remainder of the day. Look it up. The afternoon ahead will NOT be a repeat of yesterday. I can’t have that shit anymore, and due to the relationship between yesterday and my late night realization, there is a possibility that the same situation will never occur again in this life. Worst case, I end up on the sofa watching my current series until dinner time. That is pathetic, yet just fine. I have no wish to do damage or flip out again. The music brings me back to my time with the Raven, but after so many years I do not believe the compositions hit me in a similar manner. When She and I were together, the background focus was always destruction because we connected on such a level almost constantly. At present, I’ve gone in that direction many times and always returned to whatever was left prior to the horrible mood. Her wishes will be served in the longer term, but not now. I have to remain stable until the moment arrives when everything is forced to turn on its ear. Not now. I love Her, yet I need to be vigilant and ensure the actions are appropriate at the time, not before. The music is a two-fold reminder of the past. Moreover, the previous album of songs brought me all the way back nearly fourteen years to a time when every single fucking moment was painted with suicidal tones and more destruction than I had ever felt. Even with a second drink so early in the afternoon, I can still be cognizant of past mistakes. Is that growth? Or is it a lie? Curious; some of these tracks are so long that the ‘ending’ of the composition begins just over halfway through the total running time. For example, the current song runs for 7:39, but the ending sequence begins more than 3 minutes prior to the actual end. That type of dramatic structure partially outlines the way my brain operates; a forceful, powerful ending despite a seemingly docile start, and the division between the two is almost indistinguishable. There is another by a different artist that quite literally defines such a process. The track runs for 10 minutes and 59 seconds total, yet the ending begins more than 4 minutes before its close. Context is everything. That is a point I’ve been trying to drive home for two fucking decades and still no one understands. Maybe I truly am completely alone. Regardless of my position, I will never relinquish my position when it comes to the structure, drama, or storytelling of certain types of music. Period. Oh, but there is more. Rarely have I shared music with other people without the ability to fully mask the artist. That is to say there can be no recording, searching via some fucking music identification application, or viewing of the title or artist. Hiding everything is not easy, but at least I have the advantage of listening to music in which the title is so fucking hidden within the lyrics that there is almost no way of gleaning it. Eh.... Correction. The second track mentioned above entertains a closing section that comprises 3 minutes and 25 seconds instead of 4 minutes. Sorry. Shoot me. No one seems to understand this shit but me. Splendid. Friday. Coffee. Depression. Yearning. Why? Because there was an incredible side view yesterday which allowed me to calculate the vast difference between her breasts and midsection, and seeing such a fucking shelf above reminded me of the very first time I sat next to the Raven and spied something similar. I marveled at both, nine-plus years apart, and now look at me. The same behavior, the same fucking need, and the same Goddamned stance toward the world and the manner in which I turned out after decades. Shit. The sun will not decide whether or not to shine through my office window. I refuse to pop out of the chair every few minutes to adjust. I’ll just have to be closed off for a while. I really don’t care which way, but one or the other, please. Anyway, I do not recall any dreams from the night and nothing else pushed me further down, yet the damage has already been done. The realization has damaged me beyond belief. There have been moments since yesterday when I calculated something like this seemed to be on the horizon. I felt it, for lack of a better description. Well, once in a while there was an inkling in the back of my mind that a door would close and then disappear for all time, and that took place partly because of the reckoning. I always state that there is no good on my horizon. This is some of the bad. More is likely coming soon, but I will say this is the worst possible turn of the card I could have imagined in a million years. Be careful with your decisions. Trust me. When they return, you may be in lots of pain. I still don’t know what I can do to ease the difficulty inherent in such a loss. Yesterday I drank a touch more than usual, but not to the point of being stupid. I ended up tired. That’s all. Today I’ll probably be outside for a little while just in case my neighbor needs some of my tools. Any conversation regarding motor vehicles will help the stunning side view fade from my consciousness. The alternative is for that beauty to lead me back to the realization, and that will not end well for anyone. I’ll do whatever I can today in order to avoid finding a path to destruction. Part of my life has been removed and there is nothing I can do about it. One path is to accept and try to live anyway. The other path? The ‘end expected’. I may have to go to the market later this morning. The idea is ok, for the most part, but I always fear there will be something special over there with the power to fold me in half. The last one was fucking horrible. The last thing I need right now is another reminder that part of my life has been destroyed. If I do decide to go, the trip will be quick. No wandering eyes; no searching. I’ll have to get the hell in and out as efficiently as possible. That is that. Today already feels like shit and the clock is not even halfway past nine. Marvelous. I don’t believe the potential trip in October is a good idea, and that despite an offer to lodge with family to keep costs down. It’s still not a good idea. On the upside, without a hotel reservation, I need not worry about any downsides whichever way the decision goes. Right now I am leaning toward remaining home. I am more concerned about being uncomfortable far from home than I am about seeing any possible beauty. One is easier to deal with than the other, but I really don’t need any discomfort right now because there is already plenty of shit in my head that drags me down each morning and leaves me almost completely worthless later in the day. I just don’t think leaving here for three or four days is a good thing. Later. The usual housework is finished and my morning cocktail is nearly gone. I made some adjustments to the layout of each entry as driven by a desire to identify entries with mature content, although one could argue that the entire site could benefit from such a warning. Whatever the case, I added a blurb to the subheader of the newest essay. Future work will follow suit. I felt that the warning which previously lived at the top of the footer was not a good idea because of the suspicion that visitors may read from top to bottom before seeing anything contained within the footer. Or maybe no one even knows there is a footer. They may not care either way, but I decided to make the change to serve my own interest in making certain this content appears professional even if it is not. Working on the structure and appearance of the site tends to relax me when my head goes sideways. Today is no different, and I am pleased to report that the mood right now is very mellow as compared to yesterday at the same time. This is good, yet I don’t know the reason for the change. Maybe I just decided that there has already been enough damage and opted for a better direction today. Regardless of the reasoning or genesis, I feel better than I had predicted earlier and am ready for the hours ahead. Another day has disappeared for all time. Today is Saturday, and the hour is later than usual as I finally sit here to analyze and explore. Cocktail hour is at hand, too. Very nice. This is a part of each day that I somewhat enjoy; once the routine is out of the way and I have some time to get off my feet and think. This morning I’ve been working on an older entry regarding the ‘passion’, mostly cleaning up the text and reorganizing images. The essay will be available again soon. It has been offline for some months, perhaps as long as a year. I can’t remember. In any case, I’ve been editing and adding thoughts here and there primarily because the way I view my own writing has changed since that entry was first published more than seven years ago. Moreover, I wanted to add some commentary regarding the thoughts by people which followed one excellent and very clear review that I’ve read several times. People were being ridiculous and toying with ideas that have no basis in reality, nor do the comments paint the individuals in a favorable light. No specifics will be included aside from my own views. Between the main format, the master page and archive listings, I’ve spent more time on the backend than I have continuing with my obsession, the topics of beauty and desire, or those two horrible situations from the past. The reasoning behind such a change is my stance on the realization from the other night – a very important (perhaps the MOST important) aspect of living that has disappeared, possibly never to return. I needed to distract myself from that hellish feeling for a while because the direction of my head was straight down, as in a path to hell itself. I will not likely be headed in any other direction when I leave this earth. Very sad, but at least I am aware of what I am and all that I’ve done. In short, I need to leave all that shit alone for a while and move in other directions in order to preserve the time that I have left. I am very passionate about the ‘passion’, for lack of a better description, and must unload my feelings to the essay in question before it is published once again. Aside from beauty and the direction of the site as related to the same, the subject of that essay is the most important ‘thing’ in the world to me. It is also impossible without some insane set of circumstances coming to pass in the near future. All I have are my words. For the remainder of the morning, my thoughts will be directed toward the ‘passion’, and will not appear here in this backward essay. I will say that I saw Zoe on the television again this morning and my heart performed gymnastics. Splendid. I wish she could hold me.
The weather is very humid, although there is a cloud layer that is obscuring the sunshine. That’s probably a good thing for someone such as myself who prefers the cool climate. There is a storm system to the north, but I don’t know if that is what’s affecting the humidity here. Something more south may be the culprit. Whichever it is, I’ll have to make certain that any moving of items or cleaning is finished prior to lunch. The afternoon will probably end up very warm. On the upside, the furnace has been dormant for weeks. Excellent. I still have yet to move the computer tower because the project is daunting. I may even have to pick up a longer cable for the left-hand display. Not a big deal. Something is happening outside. I need to investigate. Hmm... The neighbor two doors down is having a garage sale. I interfaced with the closer neighbor and determined that there was a picnic cooler over there. I had the idea of creating a ‘fog cooler’ for my Halloween display this year, and a cooler is one critical component and would perform far better than a simple plastic container. I went over there and picked it up for a song, also learning that the seller is fostering kittens right now. Wow. I may adopt two siblings in the next week or so because I am a glutton for cat-related punishment. To that end, the idea of adding two kittens to the household has been floating around for several years. The process would involve isolating them for some days in order to acclimate the little guys to the climate of this house and the scent of the two adult cats that have been here for more than a decade. I’m sure there would be some difficulty, but at least I am already fluent in the process of adapting kittens to a house with adult cats and the related atmosphere. They need to be introduced slowly and carefully, lest the adults become irate. I’ll have to think about the idea for a while. As for the cooler, I can modify it for fog chilling very easily at very little expense. Fog is very warm, and as such does not flow along the ground. Building a chiller would cool the mist and cause it to flow down the driveway. For five dollars, I am willing to experiment with the project and see if it bears fruit. Halloween is one of those nights that I’ve loved for decades. I usually try to make the most of it because the holiday flies by very quickly. One evening; that is all. None of this has anything to do with the reckoning, but I have to embrace anything with the power to keep my mind at ease. Along such lines... The electric bike has become yet another crazy project. I stripped it of excess and unnecessary weight, and yesterday pulled apart the wiring harness between the speed controller and throttle handle. After a few minutes of testing, I determined the flow of operation and have a working idea for increasing top speed. The process is very slow, however, and often interrupted by anything related to either beauty or the recent realization that my life has been permanently altered beyond my control. At some point I will break out test equipment and determine if the system can be modified without replacing the speed controller. I have a hard time caring about anything frivolous for more than a few minutes, and that is the reason the bike has not advanced beyond the discovery stage. Historically, I’ve been a champion of disassembling items that are otherwise labeled as ‘unable to be modified by end users’, and the bike is no different. A basic understanding of DC voltage and the way it behaves is the underlying reason. Many people accept those types of items and never do anything outside the scope of the instruction booklet. I, on the other hand, see the item as something that can be advanced beyond the original intent. If the work can keep me out of the soil, all the better. Sunday morning. Coffee. The drive is behind me, ahead is the usual business. I need to maintain an even keel for the most part today because regardless of how others have affected my condition, I do not wish to cause problems right now. I want to be a hole in the world... Barely noticeable at all. That seems to be the best way to proceed until something better comes along. Well, if something better comes along, that is. I don’t know much about anything lately, least of all the future. The truth is that the only aspects of the coming days, weeks, or months that are guaranteed are more changes to the negative and increased problems around the world. Whenever my brain returns to the glowing years – sometimes later periods, as well – the comparisons begin to cause me to feel very sad, and then the only thing I can do is try to find some activity with the ability to lift me for a little while. That’s it. The reminders are few, yet very powerful. Just this morning on the way back from the City, an old retailer popped into my head for some reason. That place was frequented by me (‘us’) during the glow. Nothing of the kind exists anymore because all of the interesting products have been rolled into damned few items that are quite boring. That is not why I was thinking of that period, however. The power lies in the way I felt about the appearance of the world back then, not just indiscriminate products that had been entertaining, but believe me when I say they were plentiful. No more of that. Technology has been boiled down, reduced to sludge. Today I will have to take care of household business and try to seek those little moments that can help me relax. The reckoning was wholly apparent last night. I was hit once again during dinner. I knew it; I felt as if yet another enjoyment was at risk. The evidence has been mounting, the worst part being the realization the other morning that sent me spiraling down without anything to grab. I could not slow the descent, and now that there is an additional example of the process called ‘paying the tab’, there can be little doubt that eventually something else will be removed and I will have to reach even further to find a reasonable amount of temporary comfort. This is a very bad state of affairs. The enjoyment that was absent last night has actually been around for a few years. The difference is that due to other factors having been generated throughout the last few months, I can say with certainty that the reckoning is upon me and I am even more certain that there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it. Distraction may be the key for continuing to live. That is fucking sad, damn it. I guess I just know too much. The coffee is waning. The incident at the restaurant just popped into my head due to seeking something I wrote last year. Damn. Picturing her lines again and the fact that they were completely BARE is not going to help matters this morning. I need to be productive fairly early just in case I fall off a cliff later this afternoon. I don’t need those gorgeous little curves in my fucking head right now. Not good. I wish that incident had not taken place. It was a reminder of five years ago when I looked up and saw the pool girl barely wrapped in a fucking thong and lying there with her knees up and paired. No other position shows off those most intimate of curves. The obsession just never goes away. I’ll have to do some work very soon. And I did. The routine is finished and I have my typical glass of whiskey here on the table. Very exciting, eh? Whatever. This is what I have become, all full of lines and booze. Oh, and the reckoning continues unimpeded. If I am unable to extricate the shit from my brain, the rest of the day may not amount to much at all. That’s fine. I don’t really care. There are two items on my list, one being the fact that I need to rebuild and lubricate the back door handle and lock, and the other is I need to further research a wiring harness for the fucking bike. Yep... I think I messed up by cutting too many lines without fully investigating the connections. Now I can’t get the damned rear wheel to move no matter what I try. That’s also just fine because eventually I’ll either figure it out or replace the harness. They are very cheap. Other than those two projects, I don’t give half a shit what else is accomplished. Dinner is already planned, so cooking will be easy. I need to place an order at the big wine store because I am out of my regular booze, meaning I am sipping Canadian whiskey which is much more expensive. I don’t want to get used to it, either. Not good. ‘Woe is Monday; where we live; One or another will have to give. Push and pull; toss her thing; She knows not the reckoning.’ Indeed. The usual. Everyone who has visited here before is already aware of what the first weekday means. I have to visit three different stores in less than an hour. Ugh. I’d rather stay here and take care of whatever is most pressing. And speaking of pressing, the reckoning is perched atop my head at this very moment. I can’t do anything about it, either. Last night it was apparent just like the previous evening and I didn’t like the feeling one bit. I expect nothing good, only more of the same. Shopping will either be difficult or not. There is no way to know, but I have to do it anyway. Returning will be very nice, as always, and can likely open the rest of the day to more positive thoughts. Heading into the masses of society can be very uncomfortable and disconcerting at times. I just have to push. Forcing the issue gets it done more quickly and finds me back here sooner. Less than an hour. Shit. This is not going to end no matter how much I might wish it away. There is nothing I can do. The reckoning is fully in charge. The two shit situations continue to press me into a mold of someone completely unrecognizable as a person. Memories of the glowing years, the afterglow, and those moments that found me exactly where I needed to be cannot return regardless of my needs or how bad the current situation becomes. Everything hurts me, and then just when I seem to be finding a moment’s relief, the reckoning slams me and destroys any comfort or enjoyment. I’ve seen too much; I’ve known too much. I wish I didn’t know anything. Freedom from thinking. Freedom from remembering. Freedom from the reckoning?"
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