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The Threat Objective

alert   Mature content     No. 397    Published January 17th, 2024 9:32am pst       read ( words)     Past entries

"I must present the minimal aspect. So far, I’ve worked hard to be ambiguous, unclear and unresponsive when others speak to me about pretty much anything. I need to go further, though. The appearance must be unquestionable. Oh, and the site has been published once again – cheaply for the next twelve months – meaning I’ll no doubt receive some commentary about my words. Get used to it. The mood continues to diminish. You should already know the reasons. If not, well... I don’t mean to mince words, but you are a fucking idiot. Buy a helmet if you wish to continue reading.

The time is now 1132 and the alcohol is helping my brain process recent events and sightings. I will try to avoid commentary regarding additional damaging dreams. Right now I feel as if it’s been years since enjoying the third show. Damn. Another ninety some-odd episodes and that beautiful experience will roll around again. I need it. I need to be there, but my words no longer matter. Everything is threatening and forcing me to consider objectives. I really need to see those people – my friends and extended family, whom I love dearly – in order to maintain some semblance of balance in life.

The first show gave way to the fifth last night, even after realizing that I actually had them out of order during the latest rotation. And Friday has disappeared, as has Saturday thanks to an event on the other side of the hill. Sunday has arrived and I have the bulk of the day ahead for all of my business. I also ordered two large pantry cabinets to flank the bar in the dining room. The process is something to which I’ve looked forward for a few years now, possibly all the way back to the beginning of the pandemic. The storage and organization of both the dining room and kitchen will be improved beyond words, and the appearance of the dining room will be completely symmetrical (not totally necessary, but I can imagine the view from the living room will be beautiful. As I said... I’ve waited a long time to get the furniture required for reconfiguring everything and making the everyday items easier to access. I can’t wait to see them next week. After the shit my head has recently endured, the furniture is just the type of boost I needed. Today, as well. I don’t like being gone from home for so many hours because it fucks up the daily routine, meaning I can use the next few hours to catch up and prepare for the arrival of the cabinets.

And that is the end of the good for the time being. Helmet. I need what I need (unavailable). I want what I want (impossible). I see too much (the weakness). There is very little left in the world for which I do not feel disdain (or worse).

Later. Two movies between last night and this morning have me all fucked up in the brain. Those films are so far in the past that I often tend to compare the eras. Doing so is ill-advised for someone like me. I don’t easily let go of the past, as you may well know. Comparisons abound, and most of the time they are the reason for my ongoing shit mood. The overpass doesn’t help, either. Add all that crap together and you may see why I have such difficulty living through the average day. Right now, for example, I have all of my devices in place and hours to myself for business or anything else, yet the back of my mind is continually preoccupied with loss. I need to present the minimal aspect so people are put off by my appearance rather than attracted to my attention. This is an uphill battle. I’ll have to lay off the older films if I am to move through each day without falling off a cliff.

I felt the purity and wonder – with more power than the past – early this morning but do not remember the cause with any clarity. The purity is not real anymore, unfortunately, and such a case is going to add to the pile of shit that has been forming into a giant hand guiding my path. I can only take so much of this shit, and I can only take so many feelings of loss. The only respite was the gathering yesterday. Upon arriving home, I fell into the same familiar pit and have not been able to dig myself out. The purity only exacerbates all of the loss. I used to be there. I cannot be there anymore. Matter of time. That’s all. A fucking matter of time. The objective is ever-clearing.

I am into the mid afternoon now, and most of the garbage business is finished. My daily routine is out of the way, as well. From here forward, the plan is to care for some laundry, have something to eat, and then relocate myself to the sofa once the light begins to wane.

Monday again. I enjoy several aspects of this weekday.

The Winter CES kicks off today in the goblet. Marvelous. That’s another years-old notch. It came about way back when I first discovered an opportunity to visit the wonder and magic of such a trade show. Alas, I never forced the issue. Another open door leading me to the promised land of technology – and keep in mind I am speaking of back when the tech was new and exciting, not boring and stupid like it has become in recent years – never appeared since that first occasion. Every reminder of that period when I almost made the trip takes another piece of me and tosses it into a meat grinder. I really don’t need to hear about it anymore. Another little tidbit from earlier this morning was also on the news (I may stop listening during the first hour). There was a clip from the GGs, a snippet of Margot Robbie’s acceptance speech... ‘Thank you for dressing up and going to the greatest place in the world: The movie theatre.’ I really didn’t need that shit, either. I have nothing against the sentiment or the actor – Christ knows she is so far beyond beautiful and talented that words fail – but for me the industry is far too different than during the nineties and early aughts to feel as good as the way she describes. Between the trailing end of the ‘credits crawl’ and other reminders of the magic of the film industry and knowing that the CES era is over for yours truly, the only effects of such news are depression and sadness. Everything is gone. Ah... Shit. The show actually begins tomorrow. Whatever. I still feel the same. I don’t believe there is anything in my future capable of lifting me out of such a deep hole. The film industry continues to be a problem for me, and adding the CES issue atop a pile of recent vintage references from the ‘golden’ years – the eighties and nineties; into the aughts – is only going to exacerbate an already shitty situation inside my head. I am going nowhere soon.

My daily routine awaits and the garbage has been picked up, bless their work. The sun is shining (which is good because the mercury has dipped into the thirties during the last few mornings) and I have preparations to make prior to the cabinets being delivered between tomorrow and Wednesday. I am really looking forward to organizing everything in the kitchen and dining room, not to mention the idea of a THIRD pantry to reside in the kitchen itself. The ultimate goal is to have everything in good order and easy to access, and then relocate nearly all of the canned and dry goods from the garage to the house. I am going to eliminate the old garage pantry and then reconfigure several of the larger items out there. Step one is the dining room, though, because as much as I love my garage, we do not live out there. The space inside must be dealt with first. Jamie was just shy of three months from turning eighteen years old when this episode aired. I had no idea I would be completely in love with her just a few years later. What? My feelings right now? The meaning of the universe – sun rising and setting – and everything else in existence rests upon a massive construct that houses my ever-increasing love for her. I veered from the previous line of thinking yet again. Jamie does that to me. Perhaps I should go back to speaking of Jolaimora. Do you remember? Jolene... Jamie (and the spelling is as such because of Jaime the beautiful machine)... Nora. I am so fucked up in the head that there can be no chance of actual balance in life in the future. I just keep getting worse. Anyway, the cabinets are going to open a very large, very special door through which I plan to travel beginning in a little while.

Later, same day. What day? That doesn’t matter anymore. It’s a day, just like all the rest.

I indeed began to make revolutions toward the improved dining room space. I also finished my daily work and ran a load of laundry. Jolaimora has been running through my head on and off the entire time. One quarter of her is on the right-hand display at this very moment, in fact. Beauty beyond comprehension; a stirring form beyond description.

Another day. The drive this morning was a bit of a trial due to the workforce. I am usually driving on the weekends and not accustomed to wearing the ‘patience cap’ meaning I had a bit of difficulty. On the return, however, a smidgen of acceptable music followed along the rainy freeway and improved the experience. Now that I am home again, the plan is to fully embrace the devices and ensure that I remain comfortable throughout the morning and afternoon. I don’t see a problem there, either. The drive earlier was troubling enough to force the realization that just to be home all day is a massive positive. Yesterday I began to work in the dining room to prepare for the new cabinets, one of which should be arriving today. I’ll probably try to continue with the same work later this morning. My housework actually sounds pretty nice today, from the routine to preparations for new furniture, and on to whatever else seems best. Oh, and we will be out of town for one night just after my birthday. Yep... A hotel and dinner a little more than two hours from here. It’s not the road trip of which I’ve been dreaming for six years, but it will do in a pinch. At least I get to make plans and be portable, not to mention visiting an old-fashioned steakhouse. I am looking forward to hitting the road for a little while and being somewhere new and interesting for a short time. Because I am who I am, I’ll be planning for the next two-plus weeks. I enjoy the necessity of organizing everything for a trip, and after all these years I am very good at it. Anyway, there are a few items that will provide some enjoyment for a little while. Better than nothing. What happened to the title? Figures.

Now my daily routine is out of the way and I have the requisite bourbon perched on the table, all icy and beautiful. Big surprise. According to the tracking information, the cabinets are scheduled to be delivered tomorrow. That gives me time for further preparations in the dining room and garage. The weather is very cool and rainy today, though, so I’ll have to spend short periods out there on and off as the clock progresses. For the time being, I shall remain here to think (rhymes with drink).

Wow... I rarely have the opportunity to drink real bourbon, and the difference between it and the more common (and less expensive) whiskey varieties is fucking stark. Delicious.

The title is lost for the time being but it will return, sure as hell.

Soon I will have some hours to myself and I am looking forward to the house being quiet. I still have things to do, but honestly I’m going to relax for a while anyway. Once the furniture arrives, I’ll be busier than a cat in a sandbox. This day is not going to go very far. I have too much on my mind for concentrating upon any single detail or project. And? I don’t fucking care. I can always spend a bit of time organizing the office. My camera bag may well serve as the overnight vessel for the upcoming trip. I’d like to bring that heavy machine with me just in case there is an opportunity for capturing trains.

Oh, Saundra. Please. Just... Help me. THe devices are barely holding me up today. I need her. I need... ‘Her’.



01

What a life he lived


I think about Kellie every time I see her on the screen, and no matter the context, I tend to look at her as the diametric opposite of me. Or perhaps the course of her life as opposed to mine. Perhaps I am still unsure as to the proper correlation, but something important is there, trust me. Every time I see her smile, I consider where she was in life at the time, possibly trajectories into the future, and how her experiences in the film and television industries truly felt. I can describe mine, for sure, but there is little point anymore. Technology and the feel of such media have both changed too much for me to attempt any emotional response beyond what I’ve accomplished in the past. Kellie reminds me of how I felt upon returning from the Midwest and the ideas in my head related to doing something special on film. All I had was videotape, yet the dream inside me went far beyond that one simple medium and the camera which moved it. I will see her again. The rotation will come ‘round the bend and slap me again, and that right soon. At least I don’t love her. The emotions attached to that woman are vastly different than those related to anyone else in the world. Jolaimora is another universe entirely.

Another reference to the CES this morning caught me upside the head like a harsh strike from some errant mother-in-law after a snide remark. Smack! A transparent television; something which has been displayed in media for years as a representation of technology from a possible future. I knew this would come to pass at some point because a few years ago the flexible OLED displays hit the market on small devices. Nothing is surprising, but a transparent liquid crystal panel is pretty cool. Unfortunately, the technology which was being shown for the first time way back when I had the opportunity to attend the CES was much more exciting. The simple fact is once most mobile technology moved toward large displays and touchscreens, everything followed the same path. The older stuff ended up all rolled into a phone as it replaced nearly all of the wondrous electronic products. Sure, the phones are fantastic, but the problem is that whatever developments arrive at the CES, they will most likely follow in the footsteps of the touchscreen phone. Too bad. This all adds up to the idea that I missed the best window for attending the trade show and it will not come along in the future. I’ll feel much better once the CES runs its course and fades away. During the glowing years, I was blissfully unaware of the CES. For me, the show was a trip to one of the electronics stores – or possibly Macy’s, as back then they had a wonderful department made up of the latest technology in several disciplines – and each visit widened my eyes more than the last. I can still see and hear everything that stirred me, not to mention Bayberry Row in the Cellar which was built just before each holiday season. [That was where I found the ice skates. So sad.] The combination of the way the world appeared back then and so much emerging technology reigns supreme over almost everything else in memory. The entire period is rolled up with technology, family gatherings, and adventures to the high country as well as other destinations. Every single fucking tidbit of the glow has completely disappeared along with the possibility and promise of a bright future. I really don’t need to see the fucking CES displayed on the news. The only smidgen of excitment that came around later was the period just after the Midwest when my buddy and I were building our first computers. The center of the tech universe commonly known as Fry's Electronics was in full swing (all three stores) and we visited very often. Now? There is nothing left of the like. Not even fucking close, people. I wish time was not a fixed straight line. All this shit depresses me to no end. The future is as black as my emotional state. Believe it.

I made lots of things happen yesterday despite the cabinets not yet being delivered. I tended to the office organization again and made decent progress. I also realized that my life is pretty fucking pathetic if I can become this excited over cabinetry and storage. Pathetic is the word. All the shit that has disappeared or is otherwise missing from inside me cannot be replaced by products. The best I can expect is to be temporarily distracted before it all comes back. I'm certain that once everything is here, built and organized, I will fall off a cliff again due to some fucking image or strike. They always come along. The other possibility is that I will fall into a pit over something on the television or a reminder of the past. The CES was a good example of such a situation. I won't go into the deep feelings I have for the glowing years and the suffering I must endure each day due to that period fading into history. Distractions. Period. Even the short road trip in two weeks can't lift me from this dark shit.

Ten fifty-seven in the morning. My routine is finished and I have the garage open for the upcoming delivery. There should be four large cartons arriving, so I have to have things in order prior to the truck appearing in front of the house. I am still chomping at the bit to build the cabinets. They will represent one of the largest steps in improving our living space. I am also anticipating the arrival of two other items today. Overall, the end of business hours should find this place much improved. For the time being, I’m going to sit here and sip my bourbon with the gangsters keeping me company. While cleaning the kitchen, I realized there are enough programs in my rotating library to last the rest of my life without anything new appearing, and such a fact regardless of how many days I have yet to live. I love these shows and have no desire to see what societal dictates the world tries to push toward viewers. Between the ridiculous commercials and asinine ‘real’ storytelling, the potential for new media to actually be fulfilling, interesting or otherwise stirring is for naught. I don’t like people, and everything which comes across the screen is made by the same. I still can’t find the title and allow it to flow through my fingers, but rest assured the ideas of the forest and my place in the world are constantly nagging at me. Society has become nothing more than a repeat of the same crap over and over in different forms. Oh, if I could only find some decent resources... I need to get rid of more crap from this office. The motivation has waned, yet it will return at some point. I am certain of little else. And Nancy Marchand was so fucking amazing in this series that I can barely find the words. Awesome, that woman... Rest her beautiful soul. Anyway, in and around whatever changes I make in the office, the plan is to think about the road trip and those items I will bring to ensure a bit of comfort while away from home. I know the drive is only a couple of hours and the duration of the trip will be just over one day, but to get out of here and see the countryside for a little while feels wondrous anyway. My life is otherwise over, so I may as well embrace even the tiniest diversion. That’s a sad statement.

The mansion in this episode is fucking gorgeous and almost perfectly aligned with my taste in decor. Maybe I should work toward a goal of warming this little house as much as possible. The feeling goes all the way back to the 1236 period and my ideas for the appearance of the interior. Wood... Warm tones on the walls and floor... Furniture straight out of the past (like the 1960s)... Subdued lighting and a stark deference to natural lighting, the likes of which I have never embraced. Actually, such imagery dates way back to the eighties when I first began drawing floor plans of exotic homes which housed waterfalls, streams, lush foliage and lots of wood and stone. Those homes had few windows (if any) around the main living areas. I prefer the outside world closed off as much as possible and brightness under my control. Wainscot. Chair rails. REAL wood on the walls. Classic stained glass. Ugh. I will probably never enjoy any of it. That time has passed, but I will still take tiny steps toward something beautiful. You can tell me why because I don’t know how anymore. Perhaps such ideas are last-ditch efforts to see what I like before being permanently relocated in the soil. Now I must head in the other direction... To the ‘we’.

‘Eh... Fuck it. Let’s all have a drink.’ – Silvio Dante

We must present the minimal aspect as thoughts of threatening behavior continue to take over the mindset. The road trip is but two weeks distant now, meaning we will have to strive to maintain the facade and embrace the key – the all-important threatening objective – whilst simultaneously displaying a massive snowstorm. After all this time, the effort should prove fairly straightforward. We have held fast to the important details... Quiet; Hidden; Unanswering. This should help to illustrate the idea that we have changed, and the change is of dire importance. We can accomplish much without needing to lash out in some odd direction. In fact, the reverse often forces people to become confused. Confounded? Eh... Hopefully that one, too. We need it. We need to force the nap backwards for a long while so people can’t fucking guess anymore. No guessing. The minimal aspect shall help. Quiet. Dark. Closed off. These are the tenets. The objective is always in mind. Our consideration of other people must be lessened for a time, or until we can fortify everything and hold a larger measure of control over the atmosphere within the garage and house. Fortification is well underway; changes are incoming. Until such time as we hold confidence in the alterations and feel ready to field ridiculous, uneducated questions, everything shall remain in the dark. Part of the objective is mystery, ambiguity, and forcing the aforementioned confusion. All processes are underway. The anger is flat right now. We do not need to reach for the planekator. Everything will remain flat. The minimal aspect is key. This is very different than in the past. We can feel it.

The next day.

All of my packages arrived within an hour of each other last night. The odd thing was that before I received notice that UPS dropped off a shipment, I looked outside and there was a fairly large box sitting in the garage. It was addressed to my neighbor. Hmm. A little while later, the notification appeared on my phone that my shipments arrived. Hmm... AGAIN. I looked at the attached photo which should have been my porch, and noticed the image resembled my neighbor’s porch, opposite the other neighbor I had just visited. The driver was off by one address at some point and then everything went along from there. Very odd. I’m glad I saw the packages, though, because they represented several hundred dollars spent. Ooh-fa. Anyway, everything is here, meaning I can begin building the first cabinet later this morning. I’ve already moved a few things around in the dining room to be ready. I have to run over the hill to pick up an order at the big wine store, so I’ll get started on the construction immediately afterward.

There she is again... The one who reminds me of the other one. Jesus. The resemblance is uncanny, yet even though she is on the display and not real, there is still a tinge of fear in the back of my mind. Strange. I suppose the original had enough of an effect on me to remember for years. I recall the earliest memories of seeing her over at the bar and I was completely floored. Five-nine; long, wavy jet-black hair around her olive skin; shoulders of a goddess; slender features throughout. Darkness, much like the Raven, yet different. I could not put my finger on the reason for such differences until years later when the fear began to settle inside me while near her. Now I know, but the beauty remains. The reminder on my right-hand display will probably continue to conjure that frightening woman and bring her to the forefront of thought for as long as I follow this program. That’s fine. I need not fear either woman because one is not real and the other is gone. I see the former often, as well. Nearly as often as I dream of Jolaimora. Not good. Gazing at beauty on almost any level is harmful, cumulative, and a reminder that I am forever isolated and separated from all that I so desperately need. What? Did you use the word ‘love’? That has little to do with my feelings. I love others, but neither of those mentioned within this paragraph. Oh, and no one that is real.



02

Leonard Nimoy and Joanne Linville
Episode air date: September 27, 1968


I dove into the work yesterday and fully assembled one cabinet. It is now in place next to the bar. The other one is roughly half complete as it went much more quickly than the first thanks to learning the instructions and making adjustments in order to simplify the build. I’ll have both in place later this morning. Filling the cabinets and seeing a symmetrical dining room will make all the work very worthwhile. On the strength of the first two cabinets I will make a decision regarding a third for the kitchen. As of this moment, the possibility looks good. All of the changes in the dining room and related work has kept my head from going sideways for the last few mornings. I fear everything will return soon enough, however. My situation has not improved at all. The house has improved. Nothing more. At least while working, I am distracted from reality. Having my friends in the background helps tremendously, although I keep daydreaming about being held by Jolene as she tells me everything will be ok. Yep... That’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. At least I have things to do and need not leave the house today. Little positives are all I get anymore.

Far from here;
We cannot see.
Our whole world;
Enamored with 'she'.

Far from us;
The love we need.
Our whole world;
Is never to be.

I am so fucking sick of the way society operates that I have to remain isolated in this little house and surrounded by familiar devices. The threat objective is but one aspect of society’s influence upon me, and remains half defense, half offense; it also helps to keep my head straight as I continue to wallow in loss. Even the opening sequence to the program I’ve been following on the right-hand display becomes a problem quite often. No, not beauty. I am referring to aerial views of the City and being reminded of the glowing years. Back then, a trip to the City was wondrous and exciting, whereas now it is nothing more than a pain in the ass. We went Christmas shopping at the big mall on Market Street at some point each season and enjoyed every second of being there. Thanks to progress, crime, and any other measure of change, the appearance of the City is for shit. Maybe I have more knowledge of reality now than I did thirty-plus years ago. Fuck... I don’t know. The gradient is ever-increasing. Maybe I should begin assembly of the last half of the second cabinet. All this shit is making me sad. The glow is long gone, as is any possibility of happiness. Ugh. Shit. Is it any wonder that I am trying to extricate myself from the masses? Too much anger; too much disdain. Hence? The objective. I (we) will get there eventually.

Later.

The second cabinet is complete and I finished the daily routine. Cocktail hour; pizza is incoming. I deserve it after all this shit, not to mention everything in the previous paragraph. Whiskey and pizza. Such little things are all I have left anymore. Anyway, after lunch I will probably dive into some organization thanks to the new cabinets. I also have some dry cleaning to do and a bit of a mess in the garage with all of the packaging and whatnot.

I am seeing Alyssa’s nipples protruding through her clothing far too often. The sight is distracting.

Saturday morning is here and I am trying to figure out why the names of the days matter at all.

All the way from one end of the scale to the other... Positive to negative; the feeling and precious nature of related emotions begins, ends, and then begins again before being halted by the dire realization that we have done wrong. We’ve done it before, so the fault is familiar, although we will never cease believing that the root causes of everything number only two. Problems here; problems there. Over there... Can you see the lights? They are red. Do not enter, or else. We entered. We were also shoved through to the other side and lit red for years. All the way from the left to the right, or whichever direction is first. From the bad to the good and back again. The purity is killing us, sure as hell. The purity is not fully real, however, and a day such as this is one which throws the issues of life into our sorry faces and informs us that all of the decisions have been made in advance. The past then comes along and ruins anything positive, quickly turning wonder into pain and suffering. Afterward... The NOW... We are bereft of any concern for outward appearance, attitude, or any other external indication that we are on the same fucking plane as the masses. Anyone. All of them. We have already gone around the world with the issues, lamented the loss of the past and all attached promises, and then returned to the exact same position and saw that nothing changed other than our heads overflowing with anger and hatred. We shall present the minimal aspect and begin threatening postures. Quiet; mysterious; uncooperative. Standoffish; cold; calculating. The objective must begin or we will not survive. We started right over there, traveled the river of everything, and then returned again with less reason to do anything in life save for the threat. We will feel concern for a short time as the changes begin to take a primary set. There is no mold release anymore. Everything is gone.

All the way around; back to here. Stop. Pause. Pant. All the way around to the understanding of life. We know. We knew. No one knows. Someone knew. No one new. All the way around; back to here. Stop. Pause. Pant. Pants. CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! UNLOAD, CLEAR AND LOCK!

Nigh.

Mustard and glass; purity sans crass. Right there; nowhere.

Nothingness. Stay away from us. Save yourselves. Bleeding entries. Everything is bleeding together and we have little control. We do have more control than caring, however.

The hour is later and my routine has been completed. I also moved a few things around in the kitchen so items heading into the cabinets can be considered. The adorable little squarehead knocked on the door again, too. Damn, is she ever cute. I would guess her age to be well into the sixties, yet her eyes, brightness and the way she dresses just knock me off my feet. I would imagine carnal thoughts taking over while speaking with a spiritual person who is determined to ensure others’ well-being is a red flag. Eh... I don’t care what happens to me. Cocktail? Yep. A big, fat glass of whiskey. I can still see her smile. I wish I could tell her how I feel.

Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. This is no way to live. I am already aware of the future and I am not even slightly clairvoyant. Splendid. I should splatter the world with the mustard. Do you remember the deadly fluid? Nothing goes away, ever. Every fucking essay remains in my mind. Every. Fucking. One. I should more fully embrace the blackness because as time passes there is little reason to avoid such a state. Alyssa’s nipples just made another appearance. I would have thought such a sight was unacceptable on television twenty years ago. Bobby: ‘Fuck do I know?’ Yep.

One more time for posterity: ‘Thank you for dressing up and going to the greatest place in the world: The movie theatre.’ - Margot Robbie

Sunday morning, post drive. I pulled into the market on the return trip for a few items that will help keep me comfortable for the next few days. Very nice. I have my usual stuff to care for today along with the garbage, and all the while I will be having trouble due to a film last night. No, the problem is not beauty this time. I was seeing a film within a film, for lack of better phrasing. This is different from the other movie that makes me very sad. It’s the industry, to be honest. I watched the entire series of events play out, from the early nineties up to and including the film in question. This is not good for me, yet sometimes I just have to marvel at the artistry regardless of any potential damage. Last night was no different. I’ve gone nowhere. I am going nowhere. The last time I was pushed to break out and take a huge chance was some years ago – during the late aughts, if I recall correctly – and considering how much time has passed since that fateful day, I sometimes wonder if I could have made small inroads before too many sweeping changes in the industry. The truth is I cannot know, but I often have a nagging feeling that I would have entered a world and exited soon after with nothing more than a mass of disappointment. I did not head in any direction during the early period, such as just after returning from the MIdwest (when the feelings were strongest). I pretty much just bounced around like a confused pachinko ball toward whatever direction seemed best. Now all I can do is wonder. The possibility of happiness within such a fold seemed very thin, and when combined with my desperate need for comfort, there was simply too much fear inside for me to make a change. Enter shit situation number two. Splendid. Still, I watched the timeline of another person who became determined to succeed, and the result became one of the most influential filmmakers in the history of the medium. Damn. Just... Damn. There is no guarantee that I could have even come close to such a position, but the fact remains that I was afraid to try. I had ideas years ago and still do. I can feel a fat cocktail coming soon to my hands. Margot called it the greatest place in the world. For me, it used to be. Now there is no greatest place.

Even the countdown to the millennium is a problem these days. The passage of time is one of the worst aspects of life. And no, the watch Rosalie gave to Father Intintola does NOT follow the millennial countdown. It’s a Cosmograph, nothing more. This show just kills me sometimes. Eh... Dying is happening anyway.



03

Brilliance, plain and simple


Some time has passed and my work is almost finished. I am fairly pleased with myself for hopping to the chores early and getting a few things done and paving the way to some relaxation later. While finishing off the kitchen a while ago, I was honored to watch the great JG Hertzler on my two televisions. Damn, what talent. He always reminds me of the third show (which will be coming around in the rotation once this series runs its course). Talent. Awesome. I had the beginnings of tears in my eyes at the closing of the episode in question. Fantastic. Um... Not because of the episode specifically, but Hertzler himself.

My life is over and has been for years. I am a wasteland full of holes. I am finished. I gave up some time ago and the reasons have only been reinforced of late. There you go. Heavily reinforced, that is. The film from yesterday is a key factor in how I feel. I won’t even go into the idea of income and retirement, either. Such topics will not lead anywhere good, although I must state that when I consider Kellie and her career, my brain relates more closely with the film. Onward. All this shit just so fucking bad.

The minuscule plus side is that I always feel accomplished when my daily work is complete, or sometimes after finishing a project, such as the dining room cabinets. They make living in the house a little bit more comfortable. That last word is a good portion of the way I feel about life these days, thanks mostly to the second shit situation. The first is another story and affects me every fucking day on a much deeper and more damaging level. The problem is physiological and cannot be repaired at any cost.

From there to there, one more time;
Breathe the air, smell the wine;
Everything bare, everything mine.

Understanding does not exist. We thought, but then we thought better. 'Big fucking surprise' rhymes with 'piles and piles of lies'.

Understanding does not exist. Back to the bad place. Not the forest. I can't achieve that one. Not even close.

Sometimes when I look at Jamie I feel the need to dash outside and repeatedly slam my head against the concrete. Her pedestal is unlike any other. I love her so much that the result is always pain. Others have been on pedestals in the past, but this one has remained for many years. Sometimes even I can’t believe it. The reason for the pedestals and my deep feelings? Insecurity. Shit situation number two really did a fine job of ensuring that I would spend the rest of my life questioning everything.

I fully understand the way some people isolate and then lose their minds over time. I really get it. The process is underway right here in this house. Keep in mind that I’ve been holding back much of what I’d like to say.

Not much threat here. It is in mind; don’t fret. I have very little control over anything, nor do I hold much power in any respect. Still, I have intentions. Nothing is more dangerous than a person with something to prove. Believe it. And this endeavor has become completely ridiculous. ‘Minimal aspect’, indeed. Can I even do anything? My head tells me I’ve headed in the best direction for my own survival, yet there are parts of me considering the possibility that nothing I do will alter anything, least of all the direction of the way people see me. I may have cemented too much, too often. If so, I’ll just end up angry again (Thanks, Dave) and frustrated to the point of losing my mind over and over in all of the little ways that become the only true reasons for insanity. I don’t know what to do most of the time, so I go through the motions and then try to relax and feel somewhat accomplished. That scenario takes place more often than not. It is beginning to drive me mad. Everything was there... I was there. Now where am I? The objective is clear, yet I believe I am far too ‘soft’ to truly embrace the process and come out the other side any different. The biggest positive in my life right now is the ability to enjoy a fairly rare, long morning without having to complete any preparations or drive anywhere. That is fucking pathetic. I used to be a person. Sometimes I see the objective of threat as the only viable road to becoming a person again. I still don’t know if I can do anything. I may have waited too long. I may have lost the drive.

Monday. Today is a holiday but the trash cans are at the curb anyway. Their schedule rarely changes. I literally have the entire day ahead to do whatever I wish, the only save being the tree. Yesterday was the old Christmas from the Julian calendar, meaning we will not take down the tree until after that date. I am looking forward to having the living room in ‘normal’ mode, too. I’ll store the keyboard again, move the furniture around the way it should be with the new dining room cabinets, and then clean the floor. Very exciting. The only time when I feel even a smidgen of power and/or control is while sitting here at this fucking IDE. That is all. The rest of my existence is an endless game of trying to catch up to whatever else may be taking place, anywhere. I don’t understand much anymore. One might believe that I feel empowered – or at least effective – due to all of the work I do around the house, but the truth is I am only going through the motions in order to maintain stability. The process of storing the Christmas tree is a part of that stability, as was taking down the icicle lights yesterday. The reality is that I’ve become small and very ineffective in life; weakened and concerned about far too much to remain stable of mind. All of my work keeps me from completely losing my shit and severely damaging the flow of living right now. I take steps in different directions hoping to come out the other side a bit calmer and without the need to lash out toward other people, regardless of whether or not they fucking deserve it. Monday is otherwise meaningless. The trash cans, a couple of loads of laundry, and my usual cleaning and whatnot... This is it. I have no one to see, no calls to make, nowhere to go. I am very small. A void in the world. I don’t believe that I matter very much anymore aside from fulfilling the expectations of others. Marvelous.

One thing is certain, however, and that is the idea that if I cannot truly get through that fucking door and embrace the objective, nothing else will matter. Not my housework, pizza, cocktails, media, family, friends... Not a fucking thing. I will shut the fuck down and remain as such. The threat objective may be the only way for me to live. I’ve tried too many other paths for there to be much doubt left. The process is touchy, though, and I need to consider all possible ramifications. The bottom line, however, is if nothing else works, other people may suffer in order for me to remain alive. Right now I just don’t know how to proceed other than keeping myself to myself and out of the light. Thinking. Private thinking, much like the way I feel when I see something special.

And now there is Nicole Burdette again. I haven’t watched much of this series in the last several months, but her beauty was always just below the surface. Dark beauty; the real thing. She is so lovely. The key to her pull upon my senses has always been her eyes; they appear so emotional (sadness) much of the time due to the main issues surrounding her character in the second season. Sad eyes just kill me every time, and hers are fucking gorgeous. I need to hold her, and, more importantly, I need her to hold me. Shoot me. I have little to lose anymore.

The feelings and memories of being there are beginning to creep into my psyche this morning. This is not good by any stretch of the word. I can’t have myself floored and knocked around like a fucking rag doll due to remembering that I had been happy. I just can’t fucking have it right now. There is enough to care for in the coming days; weeks. If my shit goes completely sideways, nothing good will come of it. In any case, I was there and now I am here. The only point that really matters anymore is actually a question. Will I ever be ‘there’ again? Someone needs to tell me soon because if true, my stance must change immediately. More reasons for doing what I do will fall off and become buried beneath the memories; heaped upon by anger. Everything in the world will be forcibly stripped down to the bare minimum and no one will want to be near me any longer. I was there. Such a place is likely gone forever. Things have changed during the last couple of years and my heart is already broken, meaning I may as well put all of myself into the objective. The minimal aspect is a stance not easy to achieve, so hopefully the drive toward such will become stronger with time. I need it like I need the forest.

This entry is going nowhere like always. I don’t know what to say anymore.

The little road trip next week is something occupying my thoughts quite a bit. I rarely go further than shopping over the hill, so driving that far – just over two hours, I believe – seems alien anymore. There will be a nice dinner involved, perhaps a bit of looking around, but not much more. We won’t be gone much more than twenty-four hours. I thought of extending the drive up by stopping off at a few places, but the closer the date becomes, the less I feel like remaining out there in society for too long. I may end up uncomfortable. At least arriving home the next day will feel rewarding. Regardless of the restaurant, hotel room, or any other seemingly wondrous places, I already know that I will return the same person who left in the first place, possibly worse off than before if there are things to see. I’ve become too fragile to maintain myself in public for very long. I have to be alone as much as possible these days, especially considering all that has changed in the last two years.

I still have a little coffee left. Once it is gone, I suppose I’ll start taking care of some business; laundry and housework. Since I’ve got the road trip in mind, I may try to organize some of my things to be ready in advance. One night away is not a big deal, but I always like to have a few items just in case. In and around my other chores today, I’ll try to figure out what should go along on the trip.

I should not have watched that fucking film again, but it’s so amazing and aligned with the way my brain operates with regard to storytelling that I couldn’t resist. Yep... The film industry again. I even went so far as to look at the map to find some of the locations featured in the movie. That was another fucking mistake due to running across aerial views and images of Paramount Pictures and other working studios. Damn it... I don’t need to see that stuff but my curiosity got the best of me and I ran all over the maps. I wish things were different now. Progress has rolled over so much beauty in the world and caused many places and aspects of life to become completely generic. People don’t feel the same about entertainment because they have it at their fingertips every second of the day. It’s all accessible and packaged for easy consumption. Little displays, headphones, whatever. Margot’s quote is lost on much of society, if not all. I saw that beautiful, familiar ground-glass logo crawling up the screen and felt only sadness; loss; detachment. Under too much pressure, I even abandoned the old way of viewing the media (and handling the medium itself). I did not give up entirely, but changes in life that were caused by people who followed suit and took advantage of my weakened state – due to that fucking second shit situation, mind you – I ended up losing all of my hardware and software, soon to lose much more than that. I could rebuild, but who would see the value? Who would know the difference and not simply joke at my expense? The most likely outcome would be both, along with once again being disregarded and not taken seriously. Squished, as well. I already know everything. I know how I would appear. There are those who feel as I, yet I am not inclined to reach in any direction and have not felt as such for a very long time. The last was in ninety-five when I was able to connect with a few individuals who were in an old theatre, milling around while carrying liner notes to a six-year-old film. I won’t go into detail because I’ve probably already gone too far with that story. It’s a good one, yet no one wants me going over it again. Just know that the occasion came up by accident – I noticed the marquee while driving along to another destination – and a few days later ended up in one of the most magical environments of my entire life. Some years later, all of the references to that era disappeared because I was ruined by people. Maybe I would have lost all of the fear had I steered myself into a potentially risky and disheartening situation for the possibility of coming out the other side where I so badly needed to be. I could have snubbed all those fucking people. Hmm. Well, I did nothing, like always. The film industry will forever be a black cloud wrapped around both my head and heart. Wonderful.



04

You don't want to know


Disregarded once again. Splendid. That is the main reason for the objective, believe it or not. I can only take so much. The daily routine is out of the way and I have laundry running. Once a few more items are in place, I’ll flip a small switch and see if anyone gives a shit. Only so much... The shit is coming. One option in the short term is to demonstrate my dissatisfaction through silence. No one likes that type of behavior because issues remain unspoken. The practice is mysterious and frustrating. It is also very difficult for someone like me who is constantly ready to help with anything. I must focus in order to achieve the objective. The forest is not available to me, meaning I’ll need other avenues. Time is on my side, thankfully, although I don’t know how much will pass before I find a peaceful place within which to exist. The current period is fraught with shit from people and I am tired of it. Silence could be the answer, but as I said, fully embracing that type of state can be taxing. I don’t care how it may affect other people, only myself. Much like my feelings toward the film industry, this is a topic which always finds me completely alone. I wish I could understand the reasoning behind their behavior.

I still don’t know if I want to bring the big camera on the trip. I had hoped to run across some railroad yard or part of a busy mainline, but the more I think about it, the more I see a strong possibility that the camera will remain inside its bag for two days. I wish I could afford to venture out the way I’ve needed for years. The last time was on my birthday six years ago. I still miss the wonder of that road trip. Between then and now? Nothing. Maybe I need to emulate one of my coworkers from the past and just skip town for a while, consequences be damned. That type of switch could actually address two problems; this paragraph as well as the one above. Hmm. I am feeling reckless right now. Unfortunately, I have responsibilities today. My birthday is next Sunday. Perhaps I can flex a bit when it arrives. The typical scenario is me doing nothing more than what is expected.

Tuesday. The holiday is behind now. I guess I’ll just do the usual stuff today. I need to visit the smoke shop later, too. Maybe laundry? I don’t know. Last night I was again reminded of paths never treaded, the feeling eventually driving me to remain quiet because I’d rather not trouble anyone else with my fucking bullshit. Others are partly to blame for the way I feel, but I still can’t be a completely bad person. Not yet, anyway. Quiet is key right now. Silence may come soon, as well. Perhaps after the trip next week I’ll be able to more fully embrace some of these ideas. Right now I just don’t know.

Now you see me,
Now you don't.
Maintain sight
And wallow in plight.

What does Tuesday mean? Nothing. Just another day. My free time will be fully appreciated, I’ll take care of my stuff during the morning, and then move in whatever direction seems best. My brain is already halfway sideways and if it continues to heel over, I’m going to be in trouble. Believe it or not, most mornings head in such a direction regardless of dreams or any other references. I don’t always mention feeling so shitty because there is little point anymore. This type of situation comes to mind so often these days that I’ve actually grown accustomed to the anger which always follows. At this very moment, I am fighting with myself and trying to avoid falling into a pit of despair. I fucking hate this shit so much that I can’t find the words anymore. I just don’t understand why the world must be this way. I don’t get it. The mood will probably lighten once I move into housework mode, meaning I just need to get through a short period of time without imploding and hopefully feel better soon after. Hopefully. There are no guarantees attached to this fucking situation.

Diane Salinger is in this episode. I remember her from the third show. She’s awesome. And if any actor resembles a cat, it’s Jaime Pressly. Cat eyes, and all the rest. So fucking cute. Jaime... Not Jamie. Heh. Nothing is funny anymore. Plight is apparent.

Okay, the morning crap is out of the way and I visited the smoke shop already. Once I pour a morning cocktail, I’d rather not leave the house until it’s gone, so after considering options and my timeline, I decided to head out the door when the store opened. The sweet, big-breasted woman that owns the place was happy to see me, as always. She is very pleasant and appreciative of the support, my breast observation notwithstanding. She just happens to have a prominent chest. Pointing out such a fact is not a fucking crime. Anyway, from here forward I’ll have to run some laundry and perhaps continue organizing things for the new cabinets. I am planning to order one more for the kitchen, too. That will help me relocate the garage pantry items into the house. Once complete, I’ll pull apart the old cabinet and begin planning my reconfiguration of the garage. I’m going to have to work hard to get the film industry sadness out of my brain if I’m to accomplish much today. Sometimes I can’t help but watch those amazing films that were all released when my love for film was peaking. Last night followed suit as I finished one movie and then immediately switched to another. Shit. This is not good for me because unlike others I’ve known, my feelings toward the filmmaking process always interfere with simple relaxation and enjoyment. Oh, I still enjoy it somewhat, but the truth is my head is constantly analyzing each shot and then drops through the floor when I recall the ideas I had during the heyday (read: mid-nineties). I ended up in tears during the trailing end of the credits but went straight into another film anyway. Maybe I am just a glutton for punishment.

‘Filmed in Panavision’

That is not an indication of cameras and lenses. It is a process. When I see the ground glass crawl up the screen, I always end up sad and in awe at the same time. In my experience, very few individuals will sit through the closing credits anymore. For me, the process is a part of the film and a way of acknowledging those people responsible for creating the art. I will probably always feel this way, much like during the late nineties when I tried to express the importance of certain conditions while viewing a film for the first time. Eh... I’m not going to go into that shit again. I just don’t understand.

But then... What the fuck do I actually understand these days? Electronics? RF power? Metallurgy? Who fucking cares? The film industry and the presentation process are merely symptoms. I am a fucking wreck. Just think of how much importance I have heaped on the subject of film and then consider much more dire aspects of life. Just fucking think about that shit for a minute.

The threat objective has never held more importance, but can I even do anything? I've been denied entry into the fucking forest, so is there any reason to believe I can reach toward anything and actually grasp it? Nope.

Sofia Milos is one of the scariest and most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. The only saving grace is her character. I believe there could be an honest, understanding connection there. Too bad she is not real like any of the others. Character; not actor. Always the character because that is the only part we truly get to know over a period of time. I am so unhappy that I can’t even BEGIN to describe the feelings of loss right now. This is no way to live. THIS IS NO FUCKING WAY TO LIVE. WHY AM I STILL SITTING HERE?

One load of laundry is in the washer and I have some leftovers heating in the oven. Very exciting. Despite the rain coming in a little while, I believe the temperature in my garage is high enough to head out there after lunch to organize a few things and store the Christmas items. I wish someone who understood me existed. I need it so badly that I can barely see straight today. This is a very bad and dangerous situation. Everything just continues to pile up and one day I will provide people with a very harsh object lesson. And yes, I realize I’ve been stating such a fact for a very long time, but trust me, it’s going to happen. You may not believe me after so many years and I understand such thinking. The shit hitting the fan is a matter of time. Long and short of it. I can put up with quite a bit and move along completely aligned with others’ expectations, however one fateful day soon this will all be too much for me to handle any longer. This paragraph is the literal definition of the threat objective – something will come to pass and those who know me or have read anything here for the last several years will finally see my words and ideas come to fruition. Patience. There are still devices and comforts in place that keep me grounded. Life will not always be as such, though. There is an end to this shit, believe me. Again... It is only a matter of time. The only rub is that I will have to leave some sort of message behind which clearly outlines the reason.

Matter of time.

Miserable. I keep clinging to the little pleasures because there is little else in life which can stir me anymore. Like Tony said, ‘it’s all just a series of distractions until you’re dead’. Maybe he was right. I don’t know for sure, but I will say that each day is a little bit lower than the last. I’ve found that even when I am right in the middle of something enjoyable, my head makes a beeline toward the end of it and begins to sink lower. Lower. Further down? Yeah, whatever. This morning I have coffee and my program running, not a hell of a lot to say, and I can already see the evening bearing down upon my shoulders though it is several hours away. I don’t understand why my enjoyment of something has to be tempered by sadness all the time. This has been taking place on an increasing basis and I don’t like it. I need the ability to forget life for a little while and just relax, but something is holding me back. It may be the end, as well. Or possibly the knowledge that where I once looked ahead to things I wanted to do, I now look back and realize either I never did, and/or never will. Some aspects of life have disappeared, and I don’t see how they can return. I could be wrong, though. I have no education in such matters. I only know how I feel. It’s possible that the bleak future is weighing enough to push enjoyment to the back of the line at times. Again... I don’t know for sure. I suppose there is no way to find the truth. I feel sad and angry nearly all of the fucking time lately. The reason could be a subconscious reaction to learning that my life already ran its course and all I have left is this shit mood and feelings of loss. Whatever the case, such feelings are not going to help me get through a typical day. I need... Something. No, not understanding. I fear that one is completely impossible. I am referring to any device capable of grabbing hold of my attention for a good long while before I fall down again. There has to be such a way.

Maybe I am as incapable of the threat objective as I am of anything else. Little projects still end up completed. Well, some of them. Yesterday, for example, I took care of storing the rest of the Christmas stuff, rearranged the dining area and then cleaned a bit. The dining room looks brand new, larger, and more elegant thanks to me following through with the plan. I am proud of the effort, but the underlying shit does not let up no matter how good I may feel on a given day. It is right behind my eyes, always. I don’t see the dining room and storage as being very difficult or monumental, either. They are simple things. The threat objective is most decidedly a much larger plan, and I don’t have any fucking confidence in myself anymore. I may only be capable of little things, such as changing the fucking battery in my neighbor’s car remote. That’s pathetic. I used to repair and calibrate very expensive test equipment for the defense electronics industry. After that? I operated and maintained two of NASA’s light gas guns for planetary geology and space vehicle reentry studies. Now what do I do? Housework. Oh, the garage is a wonder to see at night, and I can pretty much repair anything in the house, but the bottom line is that any future promise has disappeared from life. This is it.

The threat objective may be just another impossible dream, much like all the rest."



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