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The Lifeless Vane II

alert   Mature content     No. 419    Published August 6th, 2024 11:16am pdt       read ( words)     Past entries

"‘I knew I would regret it, but I've been burned before.’

Indeed. Don’t I fucking know it. Just when I thought it was safe to work in the garage doing laundry and garbage business, when lo and behold a pair of shorts went by looking like lunch in more ways than one. Lots of people have passed by today thanks to the sunshine, and a few glanced in my direction due to the seemingly outdated, blasting music. Yep... I went out there nearly three hours ago to work on my Sunday business, and the music followed along during the entire foray. I was fine for a while thanks to my boring bowl of cereal and a couple of beers (yes, I had cereal again to avoid anything heavy). The shorts fucked me up, all slender and tanned from head to toe. Is it my fault that the garage door is open for ventilation? Is it my fault that my eyes never stop scanning the horizon? YOU make the call. I needed to swing the hammer for a little while due to having such a shitty morning in front of the control center. Most of my work is finished now, too. I just have to fold one load of laundry and make sure there are no science experiments in the refrigerator. After that, the totes will head to the curb and I will be finished until dinner time, roughly three-plus hours from now. Tomorrow is the ninth anniversary of losing Her. That thought has not helped me maintain balance today. Not even close. Quite the reverse, actually. I very nearly opted for alcohol instead of cereal a little while ago. If I am going to come out the other side of this day alive, something must come along to keep me upright. I miss Her more than almost anything in the world. Sometimes the hammer is all I have, and then later I retreat back into the house and realize that no one gives half a shit. I love Her to this very second. I love Her more than I could ever convey on this fucking site. Tomorrow is going to be a fucking mess if I can’t maintain myself during the morning. I’ll have to be vigilant.

Monday morning shall be a very long, relaxing period to begin this new week. I do need to visit the market later, although the time is flexible. I don’t know what else will take place today. Right now I am feeling very down and can’t really give a shit about anything aside from being comfortable. I wish I could learn why the world is this way. I’ve seen it; been there. The idea that I will probably never be there again hurts like a sonuvabitch right now. I have questions. Are there any answers?

I published the previous mess, er... Entry. I don’t know why. Maybe the page was becoming too long. Anything over a thousand lines seems to be too much. Whatever. This is the second part of the same vane, the lifeless aspect increasing with every passing moment. I don’t know what to do. The time has advanced to 1053 and my usual stuff is out of the way. I also went to the store and picked up a few items for the next few dinners. Thankfully, there was nothing of note in the market, although I had to pause at the end of my street to allow a garbage truck to turn around. I ended up sitting and staring out the window right next to a gorgeous, slender woman in THOSE fucking pants as she passed with her dog. Fuck. There will always be something. Always. My eyes do not rest, ever. I can’t help it because the search cannot end until a very unlikely and extremely unique soul crosses my path. The odds are akin to the fucking sky falling on my head. Well, that wouldn’t be so bad considering the down nature of my entire life. And believe it or not, I have a Christmas movie on the right-hand display because the vampires were glitching. The issue is only with MAX and I still haven't found the cause. The Hallmark Channel always goes through ‘Christmas in July’, meaning I can switch to one of the movies whenever the other media turns to shit. As for the glitching, I have had exactly zero problems with any other site, nor has the streaming device connected to my televisions exhibited anything similar. The only problem is the MAX site, and it sucks because no less than six of my favorite programs are available there. I don’t usually watch any of the five Star Trek series while at this table. My feelings are different for those programs. They are usually dictated by either housework or cooking. Ah... I switched back to the vampires and the stream is very stable. Nice. On another front, I received a proposal for replacing the patio cover and roof, and was subsequently instructed to get two more quotes from other contractors. One will be visiting in three days and I am looking forward to the process. As for a third, I am as of yet uncertain who might be the best choice. And there is something in the back of my mind...

I mentioned the date, and here it is. Today is precisely nine years since the Raven left this world. I still love Her. That fact will never change. Sometimes when I think of our time together, I am floored by how different I am now, along with marveling at the way society has changed throughout the same number of years. Little of it is good. She felt little for the masses and was barely aligned with the processes of society’s rules, much like myself. Due to such alignment between us and the fact that She can never come back to me, I actually need Her like never before. I need other things, too, but there is nothing good on my horizon. My doorstep shall remain ‘undarkened’ for however long I might live. I miss Her so much sometimes that I can barely see straight. The one individual who aligned with the way I see certain aspects of society, including the ‘family unit’, and She is gone. There was a moment some years ago when my partner and I visited a nearby house for a plumbing quote, and no sooner did we arrive and say hello, when I gazed upon a form and face that nearly matched the Raven. Likely the same age, too. I had a hell of a time being polite and avoiding the act of staring at all that dark beauty. In the end, we did not do the job, thankfully. I don’t know if I would have made it through the work without making an idiot of myself via some attempted connection. Would she have listened without judgment? I will never know. She was only in my eyes for less than an hour on that day. I never saw her again despite living so close and visiting different businesses here during the intervening years. She reminded me of the Raven and being nearby really hurt me. I was desperate to the point of being unable to concentrate or properly communicate. That’s how I felt whenever the Raven and I were together, short as that period was. I can still see Her standing at the train station. Fuck. As for the other one, well... Within three seconds of seeing her amazing and very unique form, I felt a combination of torment and physical desire the likes of which I'd rather not describe here. She was THAT fucking amazing.

Tuesday morning arrived slowly and took it easy on me for the most part. The hours ahead may prove different. Right now I am sitting here with coffee and my program. I don’t have a clue as to how I will feel later. Reminiscing last night and again this morning has fucked up my head for the umpteenth time. I can’t help but look back to when I was still open and hopeful about the future, and now that it has been here for some years, I can’t understand why everything has progressed in such a fashion. Thinking about the world’s appearance when I was with Her created quite a gradient, and that was less than a decade ago. Going back further just fucking sucks out loud and right down to the ground. I almost can’t take it sometimes. The differences are just horrible much of the time, especially just over thirty years back because those were the glowing years. Every aspect of each living day ‘glowed’ with an aura which is now completely gone from life. The promise and wonder of looking ahead have disappeared, as well, leaving me to travel back in time far too often for a balanced person to experience. This is part of the reason I need to see my doctor. I have to find a way to block certain parts of the past for a time just so the day can progress with some semblance of order. This is a two-fold problem that operates on the heels of the other one, which I can’t mention here due to it being so sensitive. Again... I just don’t fucking understand this shit. I’ll have to finish my coffee, organize a few things and care for the routine, and then see how I feel about the rest of the day. Right now? I don’t feel well. The past and the way everything used to look is pressing down hard on my psyche.

1020 is what I see on the clocks and I am still sitting here lamenting everything that is gone. The process is very unhealthy, yet due to having been routed and squished for so long, I honestly don’t see another way to live. All I am doing is passing the time as best I can and trying to locate options with the ability to lift me for a little while. That is all. Everything I’ve done throughout the last couple of years has been exactly the same; trying to lift myself a bit. Those aspects of daily life that used to accomplish such things have been diminishing, unfortunately. I don’t know what I can do about this fucking shit.

Ok, the time is now 1124 and my usual crap is out of the way. I also grabbed an empty tote so a few items can be relocated from one of the hall closets to the shed. I’ve been putting off the other closet because I am as of yet unsure of what needs to go out as opposed to remaining stored in the house. I’ll get to it at some point. Right now the plan is to enjoy my cocktail and relax at the control center to gather my thoughts. If the dark shroud of depression does not lift soon, this day will go nowhere, much like yesterday. As much as I’d like to avoid such pitfalls, the power is most decidedly out of reach. I have control over very little these days. Video media, music, and the day-to-day operation of this household are my realms. Well, I have control over the site, of course, but that’s different. The site is ‘ownership’ more than anything else. ‘Fuckin intanet, anyway.’ Back when I first created the code twenty-two years ago, I had high hopes for something special. Now look at it.



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Wednesday morning, post drive. Coffee and words. Thoughts. Memories? Yes... Why was I dreaming that I had lunch with one of the characters in the program I’ve been following? She was famished and for some reason I seem to recall that she’d been held captive for a while and finally freed herself, only to find her hand in mine as we stepped toward a mall food court. Very strange. I had to cook my own corn dog. Even more odd. I have no idea from where that crap originated. This program has been on the right-hand display and the other televisions sporadically throughout the past several years, so dreaming of one character does not seem far-fetched. I just figured the one in my dream would be someone else, such as Nora. Nope. Very confusing, this crap. Anyway, with the drive behind me – and I forced the issue and headed out the door about ten minutes earlier than usual – I am fairly pleased to have the rest of the day ahead for whatever is best. I had to take care of one car registration and replace an insurance policy, both of which are complete, meaning soon I’ll polish off the last of the coffee and get to some housework. My head is full of imagery, and I am not referring to this morning’s dream. There are other things inside me right now. The routine may help push it all away. I can only hope.

I was thinking about the alteration to the top of each entry. This is the first to enjoy the newer, more streamlined format. Going back and changing the other 400-odd essays would be much less than enjoyable and quite time consuming, so they will have to keep the older layout. From here forward, the pages will be simpler. That is all. Yes, there are more than 430 essays though the archives hold fewer than that number. Most of the fiction has been removed for reasons of good form. No one needs to know what I’ve done.

1051. My very quick routine is out of the way and I have the usual glass of medicine here on the table. The rest of the day is WFO. That is a racing term. Look it up. The second word is adjustable in my experience of racing all over Nevada as well as the now-defunct dragstrip that was in my hometown. Eh... I’ll tell you. In drag racing, the term describes the throttle position of ‘wide fuckin open’. There you go. Some would say ‘wide full open’ because it is generally more accepted, but if you go to the track and ask a driver or crew chief, the middle word is different. Heh. Damn, this cocktail is delicious. Anyway, since I can’t seem to get three different pairs of legs out of my head, I’ll have to resort to other measures today. One is the Raven, the second is that nearby beauty that I can’t seem to forget, and the third is the lovely example of both thigh disparity and the Golden Ratio that is displayed all down the page. And yes, the verb agrees with its antecedent, so shut up. The first image is a prime example of my obsession. Whatever. None of this shit matters, nor do my feelings. Everything will come to a head as soon as those converging lines meet. I am so broken that I couldn’t describe the condition if I had a thousand years to type the words. Broken. Desperate. Sad. Weak. And? Squished to death. Lifeless; the vane of vanes, here to take it all away, finally. The convergence will dictate my future, along with the status of the doorstep.

One of the pairs of legs reminded me of many years ago – likely the very first occasion of me seeing a woman and feeling overwhelming physical desire. The girl that lives nearby dredged up not only feelings for the Raven, but those that I felt at the car dealership during the afterglow. One salesperson appeared to answer questions about a very specific limited production car, and when I saw her gliding across the showroom toward us, my brain began to calculate all manner of physical acts. For me, the idea of being sexual with a woman had always hinged upon emotions, even that far back in my history. That day, though, my mind went straight to sex when I saw her beautiful outfit and flowing hair. At the time, I failed to understand the distinction between appearance and desire, so the entire event caused confusion on a massive scale. How in the hell could one woman upend everything I had experienced for many years, and so quickly? The more recent sighting and conversation with the girl up the street resulted in similar feelings and I did not like it one bit. I need to recall the way I felt upon first seeing the Raven rise from her desk and cross the room nearly ten fucking years ago. Was it a desire to be with her physically, or did I need to ‘see’ as I’ve tried to describe on many an occasion? Right now I have no fucking idea. The only saving throw is the way I feel inside for a woman carrying those amazing dimensions. I needed to understand ‘why’ more than anything else at the time. Maybe I’ve been obsessed, squished and routed for so long that the initial stance has become terrible. What I mean to say is that after so many years of people trivializing and/or disregarding my desire, the only result can be a combination of confusion and anger.

1326. Lunch is here on the table. I went to the market, as well. Nothing bad happened, fortunately, and the trip was quite smooth for being later than usual.

Thursday fucking morning is here after a rather uncomfortable sleeping period combined with dreams that I can’t recall. I know they occurred, however. It’s a feeling more than a memory. And speaking of feelings, the purity was at issue for the thousandth time and had me yearning to reverse everything and travel to a place where I would find the world the way it used to be. Just this morning on the news, I learned that the ever-shrinking flea market which dates back to the fifties is going the way of the dodo if they can’t find new land for relocation. That is just fucking stupid. The bottom line is that no matter how beloved that historic place is, there simply are not enough people who still give a shit, many of whom are in positions to have affected changes of the market throughout the past decade. Just like the big electronics stores (and a handful of restaurants, because why not?), people’s attention has swung away from going out there and browsing the world. They just don’t care, so now another beautiful facet of this area is likely going to disappear. Everything is being replaced with some flavor of housing. I mentioned earlier that the only way for me to be happy is to reverse everything. Well, that’s impossible, so the only path is to remain away from those who do not see anything wrong with the world. The flea market is merely the latest strike. There will be more. I’ll have to prepare myself for a never-ending slew of bad news and zero of the opposite. Today will be spent partly in reflection. The other part will be very sad. The time is now 0809. Coffee. Memories. Problems. Sadness. Anger. The vane is ruining everything.

My life is over. One of these days the realization will fully set in, but I already know. If last night and this morning are any examples, the future is already known. ‘The speed of light through a vacuum.’ A fucking vacuum.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit the big store today. I have a list that’s been waiting until a few items go on sale. Tomorrow might be better because right now I feel pretty fucking lousy and leaving the house is very unappealing. I doubt I’d get past the driveway. The concern regarding shopping is not the possibility of seeing some errant beauty floating about the store. The problem is that I just don’t feel well today. Everything seems as if it is shrinking; closing in with little chance of me slowing the process. The other day I booked a trip to tour a brewery and visit a couple of restaurants north of the Golden Gate, but if these feelings don’t change during the next week or so, I’m not fucking going anywhere. Oh, there could be good food and all that shit. I just know that upon returning home I’ll be sitting here worse off for the experience. I don’t like the changes and they will doubtless be apparent as soon as I drive halfway to the fucking bridge. Going anywhere seems like a bad idea no matter how I try to spin it. The day trip is scheduled for exactly two weeks from today. Right now I just don’t fucking know if I can do it. There could be three-fold difficulty for my weak mind. I can’t stand the way the world is these days, and considering how much of history has been tossed out like so much trash, I can’t see any improvements in the future. Believe me, I’ve been pondering the nature of society’s progress since the glowing years. I know precisely what I’m talking about, and you may feel similar. Unfortunately, there is no stopping any of it. Progress is rolling right over so many wonderful aspects of the world that I don’t believe people are seeing it. Either that or they just don’t care. Whatever the case, I am having a hell of a time trying to remain positive.

1106. I am still noting the time for whatever reason. I don’t know. The morning stuff is out of the way. The trouble has not left me today, hence my need to remain home. I have enough to deal with already without leaving the house and becoming increasingly uncomfortable, which has been the norm of late. I fucking hate this shit. Persis Khambatta had a pivotal role in the first Star Trek film, dating to 1979. I swear, she has some of the largest eyes I’ve ever seen. Many others marveled at her legs, but for me the draw has been her eyes from the beginning. Yep... 1979. What a fucking beauty.

Friday. I didn’t go anywhere yesterday, so I have to visit the big store and the smoke shop later this morning. Shopping in the big store can be pretty relaxing, and most of the time there is nothing to see. I’m going to try to get there just after they open for business, perhaps 0930 so that the other store is open during my return trip. If I can get myself back here by 1030 or so, I’ll be very pleased. Even 1100 would be fine. Tomorrow will be nice... No drive to the City. Today’s venture outside the walls of this house is more than enough to make me fully appreciate being here. I’ll take care of the usual housework upon returning home. The rest of the day will be pretty mellow, I suspect. The new curtain rods should be arriving today, as well, and that means I can toss the other piece of shit and hang the better units once and for all. The curtains are just fine. The rods are the problem. Considering my head is completely sideways already, getting out of here for good reason could help me get through the rest of the morning without further problems. I just keep remembering being ‘there’ and sometimes there is nothing I can do about it. From all the way up on high to the lowest possible pit imaginable; this is a very bad situation. My mental and emotional states are extremely fragile these days, so anything with the power to provide a boost – all I can ask is for something temporary – is welcomed with open arms. That sort of thing is very hard to come by these days. I’d better get ready to head out the door.



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1153... Cocktail time. Very nice. I shopped at the big store and stopped at the cigarette emporium on the way back. Upon arriving, I took care of all the cold food and then polished off my daily routine. The rest of the day is going to be quite the reverse... Relaxing. I had to switch programs again because MAX is exhibiting that same glitching, skipping shit like the other day. I still don’t understand the problem, either. Every other stream – four different source sites – is completely smooth. The more I search for a solution to the problem, the more frustrated I become. Every time there is an issue with streaming media, the company always points to the same items to check... The wireless network speed, cable connections, memory availability, cache size, and once all those are checked, they tell you to reboot everything. That is all. If the problem persists, there are no answers. The odd part is that the same channel operating via the Roku on my televisions is free of issues. This only happens within the browser. Empty the cache? Did it. Run a speed test? Did it. Disable hardware acceleration? Tried that one, too. None of the settings make any difference. When the MAX stream exhibits a problem, I immediately switch to another service and then watch without a single fucking issue. You can explain that one to me. Go for it. I’m waiting. Oh, did you say try switching browsers? Well, I have three and all of them do the same thing. As of yet, all I’ve been able to do is leave MAX alone for a while and then come back to it later. Sometimes the problem goes away and sometimes it does not. And as for speed, I am currently receiving 347.9 Mbps downstream and sending more than 22 upstream. High-definition video streams usually require less than 15 Mbps downstream. Current Internet latency is 8 milliseconds. There you go. Tell me what the problem is. Eh... Whatever. I always have other choices. The video media has become so important to me that I once told my neighbor how much I needed the television. Afterward, he agreed completely. I guess he feels the same about entertainment, although his taste is more updated than my own. I watch old stuff. The funny part of our conversation was the possibility of my television failing for some reason. I told him that if such an occurrence took place, I’d have a replacement unit on the wall within two hours (if not less). He laughed and said he felt the same way. Funny.

I wonder if Zoe likes my five main television programs.

Saturday morning is here and it could not have arrived soon enough. The night was rather uncomfortable and I don’t even know why. Now that my early business is out of the way and I can sit here with coffee for a while, I feel much better. Yesterday was completely different inside my head due to the shopping trip. My morning was truncated a bit, the routine was finished later than usual, and I didn’t really relax while sipping coffee because when I have to go somewhere it feels like a weight on my shoulders. Not fun. I’ll be speaking about this very soon, but not here. Oh, and for whatever reason, the MAX stream is very smooth this morning. I know not why. I guess I’ll just go with it, to use the parlance of our times. And speaking of the times, I am still rather down over everything that has disappeared. The condition of present society is pushing me to cancel the upcoming outing. Sometimes I believe that upon returning home at the end of the trip I’ll feel like the whole shitaree was nothing more than a waste of time and money. I used to feel that way just before heading to the mountains, as we did twice each year for a very long time, and then the morning of the trip I felt much better, even a bit excited. I always knew there would be a shitload of problems up there, too, yet the enjoyment of nice restaurants and being so detached from the grind of work won out every time. Now that my favorite, very old steakhouse was relocated in favor of something newer and ‘trendy’, my motivation for visiting the resorts has diminished significantly. The changes are too much. Roman just brutally staked another authority vampire and looked both menacing and powerful beyond words after the process. Christopher Meloni is fucking awesome, and I am speaking of all the way back to the other show that shall remain unmentioned in these writings. Anyway, the rest of this morning is going to be very slow because I need to relax and think, like most days. There are plenty of projects and other items that should be addressed, the most important being my mental condition. All else tends to take a back seat. Once the coffee is gone, I’ll pick a direction. Right now? Ugh. Imagery in my head... Memories stabbing my heart... Progress rolling over and destroying all that has been important. I don’t need this shit.

'Eller was right, you fucking prick, and you just got him killed!'
‘That’s enough, Private!’
‘Go fuck yourself, Sergeant!’

This is the Nora season. Name number three in my beautiful portmanteau, ‘Jolaimora’. You know if you’ve read anything here in the last four-plus years. Or maybe you don’t care. In any case, I fucking love that woman, and whatever that makes me, I don’t fucking care. This is what I’ve become after being repeatedly routed, squished, and Christ only knows how many other debilitating behaviors from other people. Nora is amazing to see and hear. I am not just obsessed with her beautiful, very unique gait and big eyes. There is so much more that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Jolaimora is the culmination of everything that has shaped me for over four fucking decades. The name is also the reason there are no images within this essay. Nothing helps. Besides, Nora has already appeared on the site multiple times, and the sight of her causes me pain. Dreaming of Jolaimora equals pain.

‘I don’t care if those ladies are fairies, leprechauns, or fuckin’ Ewoks.’ Andy is hilarious sometimes.

0946. The coffee is waning. I have a load of new towels in the washer with the intention of replacing those that have been in the linen closet for many years. I’ll store them in a tote once the new towels are in place. Every time I head out the back door for any reason, something goes with me in order to clear out the spare bedroom closet. I am going to order another mattress cover so it can be safely moved to the shed without damage. The more crap that leaves the spare bedroom, the better chance I have of taking care of the floor and closet. Only the Christmas stuff will remain indoors once this shit is complete. I plan to nickel and dime the process all morning long, like I do with most processes.

1056 is cocktail time. Very nice. I washed and dried the new towels and completed the daily routine. I have everything ready for mounting the curtain rods – nice, solid units this time – and will probably try the first one in a little while. Moreover, I have a head start on tomorrow’s garbage business for reasons of good form. Usually when the kitchen work is light, I’ll check out the refrigerator and eliminate any science projects that end up toward the rear of the shelves. My head has remained loopy and sideways throughout the morning. I don’t like it one fucking bit, but what can I do? Is there help waiting on the horizon? Will the machine appear on my doorstep? Will that limousine finally pull up out front with the two girls and my briefcase? That one goes back decades. This mood was exacerbated by a woman I know passing by the garage a while ago, all flowing hair and bouncing breasts. She asked if I plan to attend the dog surfing championship at the beach. Nope. As famous as that event has become – it draws people from great distances – I really don’t need to walk to the beach and see a ton of beauty. That won’t help anything or anyone who knows me. One of the cats was sick just now. Damn. I’ll have to find the spot and clean it the next time I leave this chair. Cats just do that sometimes, and there is no clear explanation considering they can digest almost anything. I love those little guys and don’t mind cleaning up after them. This house is their whole world. Anyway, I am not leaving the house today, surfing or otherwise, and plan to work on my stuff a little at a time. That is all. The booze shall follow along for the next couple of hours. I need ‘her’. I just fucking NEED ‘her’, damn it. Where is she?

My little knife project is going to be very slow. I secured new pins for reconstructing and adding a layer or two to the prize specimen, but the rest of the materials and research will have to wait. I’ve watched a few instructional videos from those with experience, so perhaps once I dig into the project it will progress smoothly. I paid an obscene amount of money for a very rare version, too. Hence the plodding pace. I need to be certain of my plan before disassembling that beauty. Once the knife is complete, it will make me smile. Does it matter? Will I be showing it off? I doubt both, but I need to finish it for myself. Along such lines, there are a lot of projects awaiting my attention. Most of the time they just sit because I can’t find the motivation to do much at all. Moving along from one down day to the next is plenty.

I plowed through the fifth series in a paltry forty days, mostly due to the fact that it only comprises 98 episodes. The first show is currently playing when I am doing housework or cooking, and that means the prime, glowing series number three will be gracing the screens very soon. It will be beautiful, wondrous, and a reminder of a MUCH better part of my life. Whatever happened between the year of nineteen and twenty, my feelings toward that series changed dramatically. I can’t live without it, but at the same time I can be very patient while rolling through the other four as I wait. While in the office and at the control center, however, one of the HBO programs from the past is usually on the right-hand display. As much as I love the third series, I don’t want to rush its arrival. I am very strange. In fact, I have a log for recording the exact date and time when each series begins its run. 695 hours of media that I simply cannot live without.



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1252. I installed both curtain rods, snapped the plastic rings into place, and finished the project. As of this moment, I have no idea from where the motivation came, but fuck it... The curtains are finished and on newer, more stable rods. The only downside was that the cats didn’t appreciate me working in the master bedroom during their prime midday slumber. After straightening everything in the bedroom and putting away the dishes, I noticed they are nice and comfortable once again. There is nothing funnier than a cat with an expression of ‘what the fuck are you doing?’. And I guess the dog surfing attracted a record crowd today because some of the attendants parked all the way up here, a good half-mile walk from the beach. Wow. Either surfing dogs are magical, or people are really stretching to find entertainment these days. Heh. As for the time being, I will probably sit here with lunch and browse the map to look at both places I’ve been and those I wish to visit. The process can be very depressing at times. I heard my neighbor take off on one of his motorcycles. At least someone is out there living their life. Not me.

The Sunday morning drive was very foggy yet smooth. There are not a lot of cars on the road during Sundays and I really enjoy the openness of the drive. I enjoy arriving home even more, though. And here I am with the entire day ahead for whatever I wish to do. There is some business, but not that much. I have plenty of time to think, good or bad as that may be. I was reminded this morning of sitting in my friend’s car at the starting line of the race in Nevada years ago. He and his wife traveled from Colorado in that car and then entered it in the race. I believe the year was ‘93, meaning that model was still in production at the time. Wow. By the time I was able to acquire the year of my choice, the car in question had just turned twenty years old. Interesting. Well, all memories of racing aside, everything is either gone for good or has changed enough to be completely unrecognizable. For some reason, sitting in the driver’s seat on 280 this morning reminded me of the first time I sat in that car and the way it felt, some three years after first being close to one in the dealership. Nora has the amazing and very rare facial trait that I still can’t describe. Anyway, there are still a few examples of that car floating around in this country. Every now and again I’ll look for one and then fall on my stupid face. The car went away because my brain was far enough out of balance to believe a woman was more important than everything I had achieved in life. Nice, huh? I am the first to admit how fucking backward and stupid I had become, and that on the heels of finally owning my dream car after a twenty-year wait. Once in a while I recall that first race and my head goes around the world with the information. None of it feels very good, although I am aware of the decisions I made that royally fucked everything all to hell. I consciously did it. I’d love to be able to partially blame the two shit situations, and perhaps I really can. After all this time and everything I tossed in the trash, I often believe that lessons no longer matter because too much time has passed and the situation has taken a set. Did I learn? Some. Will I go through all that again while cruising the freeway one day? Yep. Initially, I deserved the car after working and budgeting for years. Just a few months later, I forfeited that same dreamy car because I was a fucking idiot. There it is, long and short of it. Does the future hold another car for me? I doubt it.

0825. Oh, Nora... Please hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I need to find a way of lopping off the parts I need to forget while retaining those that can help keep me upright, and one segment of Jolaimora may be the only way to live. But, there is... Nothing. No answers. No one is listening. Lifeless, as always. Damn is that woman ever beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone who looks similar. Unbelievable. This situation would be much better if I had the hots for her without emotions being involved. Eh, that ship sailed so long ago that it has sunk and fully decomposed. I love Nora so much... Very bad. If one or all three represent the only true help or happiness, I am fucked. Fiction rules the roost because reality no longer cuts the fucking mustard.

1005 is on the clock and I am still sitting here. The morning business will not take long at all and I will get to it – along with a nice, fat cocktail – very soon. I honestly may not be able to accomplish much today because memories are getting the best of me. I decided to reheat the last of the coffee since my morning has been so drawn out. Normally, cocktail time would be arriving soon, but today everything is fairly slow. I took care of half the routine to ease the work later. Now I can relax in the quiet and think for a while. The clock will not stop regardless of my condition. There is no getting around that shit. At least I have a head start on everything thanks to working a bit yesterday. Aside from the typical schedule, I have laundry and dry cleaning to do. I’ll get to it once the switch is made from this chair to the rest of the house. My friends in the first series will be following along, like always. Three televisions, all displaying my wishes simultaneously. Peachy. My distribution amplifier still has one available output if I ever decide to expand. Moreover, at some point in the near future I’ll be replacing the living room unit with a newer model due to the bottom of the screen exhibiting slight LCD panel problems. Once the new television is on the wall, the old one will move to my garage. I will then have the smaller unit in case I decide to utilize that fourth output from the amplifier. No big deal. What is the value of one more cable when held against one of the damned few aspects of life that can lift me out of the din for a while? Nada. Nora was nude there for a moment. I am overjoyed that she never decided to be filmed while unclothed. Everything is implied and unclear, thankfully. I have no desire to see her without clothing, believe it or not. I just want her to hold me. Anyway, the coffee is not blowing my skirt up, so perhaps I need to switch to something stronger, less healthy, and ill-advised. We go.

1158. My daily routine is finished and I’ll be heading toward the laundry area very soon. And yes, there is a nice, icy glass of whiskey here on the table. I will have the house to myself in a little while. There are plenty of chores for this Sunday, and lots of time to relax and think about everything. I could use more of the latter. As much as I enjoy watching one of my programs, the truth is I need to shift focus as soon as I feel myself becoming disillusioned. Just little things... Small steps can often lead to larger steps, or at least to feeling a little bit better. Once the house is all mine for the afternoon, I’ll try to remain busy.

Monday morning has been very interesting so far, and the time is only 0746. Apparently, there is uncertainty in the global markets and ours has dropped quite a ways in just over an hour. The media has been using the word ‘plummet’ when referring to a mere two-plus percent reduction. The crash of ‘29 was a drop of almost 13%, followed by another 12% the next day. This is not the case at present, although the news would have us believe that the reduction is catastrophic. Not really. Moreover, there was a report about possible legislation for foreign software to be disallowed in US-based autonomous vehicles. Very interesting, especially considering the recent ban on a certain mobile application. Hmm. All of this is going to fuel the uncertainty. Investors like stability, and when a few little things begin to point to a larger event, selling can often be the result. Some people who don’t have direct investments will muse that they are not affected, but trust me... All of that shit is connected. Patience. And hopefully the doom and gloom wording by the media will cease when this situation settles a little bit. They have a knack for ‘awful-izing’ any situation and causing people to be more concerned than when hearing straightforward reporting. Eh... The intertwined conglomeration of media, large corporations and other very influential individuals probably can’t be altered in these late days. Whatever. Very little of it can affect my tiny life.

I heard back from the distributor in the Netherlands regarding the poster I’ve wanted for nine years. They are willing to ship it here even though their site policy states otherwise. I pleaded with a very nice woman and finally received a reply early this morning. It is a very inexpensive item, so even if they gouge me on the shipping cost, I don’t care. Usually when a company steps outside their typical policies, someone is going to pay extra. Hmm... Maybe my international purchase will help stabilize the stock markets. Heh. Never mind. Not funny. Wow... The market in Japan is down 13% at this point. Ooh-fa. I hope I am not wrong about the recovery. Anyway, the poster possibility is good news. Better than nothing, I guess. And there is Nora with her insanely dark beauty gracing the right-hand display. I need her to hold me, for fuck’s sake.

The weather outside is very cool and drizzly with fog hanging just above the hills to the east. On the other hand, the highs predicted in the valley are in the nineties. By early afternoon, those cities will be a full thirty degrees warmer than here by the ocean. I don’t miss that, even after almost fourteen years in this town. I said for many years that I’d rather bundle up and keep warm rather than seeking cool. I waited a very long time to live this close to the sea. I can take advantage of the cool weather by working in the shed. That space never really gets very warm thanks to two gable vents and a ridge vent. Oh, it can become a tad stale, but if I open both windows, the climate in the shed drops off markedly within minutes. I designed it that way for good reason, mainly due to its position in full sun during the early afternoon. I may have to head out there later and move some things around. The mattress is awaiting a bag that will protect it during moving and storage. Once that’s complete, the second dresser will be relocated to the spare bedroom. I still need to carry a few totes to the shed, as well. Each time I go outside for any reason, I usually bring one with me. Nickel and dime. Thanks to the ocean being right down the street, none of this is very difficult. The daily stuff will be quick. Another issue that has been bothering me is the joystick. I noticed that when it is connected via USB, the computer will not go to sleep as scheduled. My idea to locate the tower beneath this big table means the ports are not easily accessible. I am going to move the tower to the top of my safe which is sitting to the right. That way I’ll have easy access to the ports, power switch, and anything else that may need to be addressed in the future. Trying to keep the tabletop nice and neat caused me to eliminate as much as possible from the surface. Well, the tower was not the best idea, although when I did that work I had yet to acquire the stick. Moving the box again is going to be tedious.



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1041 is fatass drinkie time. The routine is finished and I performed a bit of floor cleaning. The little guys are slobs when it comes to eating canned food. One of them plucks the pieces from the bowl with his adorable little paw and then eats, sometimes leaving the food on the floor. Well, I have to soak the area with cleaning fluid for a few minutes and then scrub, but I don't mind. When the cats are happy, the house is in order. I love those little guys. I have more spot cleaning, too. I’ll get to it when I feel like being on the floor again. As for the rest of the morning, I’ll relax here at the control center for a little while and then do whatever feels best. And speaking of ‘feels best’, Nora is driving me up the fucking wall. Dark beauty is the finest and most stirring appearance in existence, and she is a prime example. She has all of it, from dark hair and eyes, one of the most beautiful gaits I’ve ever seen, and on to the fucking gorgeous facial structure for which I have searched the globe for decades. I’ve probably made that clear in the past. Heh. God damn do I ever love that woman. All wondrous beauty and desperation aside, the rest of the day will move along and I will try to accomplish some improvements as best I can.

The woman I passed while entering the market some days ago really fucked me up in more ways than I care to admit. The torment of my obsession is much of the reason because the first feeling when I spied her form was a desperate need to measure, stare, record, and worship, all the while ensuring that she understood the deep level of appreciation I hold for such beauty. I needed to see everything right before my eyes just like those moments in front of the Raven. My thoughts did not go further, thank the maker, because I was there to shop and had to grab everything and get my fucking stupid ass back home with all haste. Nora is wearing low-rise jeans. That is one HUGE advantage in watching media from many years ago, and before our ridiculous, sheep-laden backward society decided that high-rises needed to return from the grave. If the female section of society realized how distorted that style becomes when wrapped around an otherwise very attractive shape, perhaps it would go away. Nope. This is nowhere near the appearance of overalls, either. There is something very cute about a slender form bouncing around inside some baggy overalls that is nearly indescribable. As for the high-rise jeans, some power beyond comprehension must extricate and destroy all knowledge of such things for the betterment of the world, not that I am opinionated about the topic at all. Heh. I’ve seen everything that is out there throughout a very long time and believe me, no one else is capable of making a solid point to the contrary. Fortunately, and primarily for their sake, I don’t want to speak with anyone. Nora? In a pair of form-fitting low-rise jeans? The masses of the planet should be so lucky. As for the woman I passed in the market, I can only go so far on the site with what I feel, lest my labels expand at a dramatic rate. Just be aware that she comes to mind several times on a given day and I fall down accordingly, just like the fucking idiot I’ve become. I need her. I want her. I have to worship what she represents. Yes, I said worship. That applied to the Raven, as well. Nine years later, I am beginning to realize that I should have handled that situation differently and died as a result. No doubt it would have been more worthwhile than anything which has transpired since. She was right fucking there... Standing and staring down at me in nothing but a black thong and holding a bottle of wine in Her slender hand; long, manicured fingers on display along with everything else. One foot from my eyes were the most amazing lines I could have imagined. The downside is I completely lost my ability to process thoughts after waiting so long to see such beauty. I was an idiot. She was wonderful toward me. Wonderful. God help me, I still love Her deeply. Now look at me. I digress. Does it matter? Does anything I say or do matter?

1413 and I am nearly out of gas. I pruned the plum tree to thin some of the crap in the middle. You know, that growth which does not bear fruit but robs water from the other limbs. That was a pain in the ass. On the upside (and the downside, really), I had one of my very old albums following along through the mighty MDRs, and I marveled at her voice the entire time. I should have finished the tree sooner because if I listen long enough, the eleventh track will roll around and have me in tears. Worse, actually. You don’t want to know. At least I wasn’t drinking beer. The last time I had that song playing through the MDRs, I was half loaded and carrying a revolver in my belt as I paced all over the back patio. Not good. Today I managed to avoid plummeting into hell while marveling at how much I still fucking LOVE that woman. The album turned forty years old on March 12th of this year. Now I have it playing on the computer because I am a glutton for punishment. I won’t even get started with all of the emotions I felt when this was first released, and I am not referring to my love for the band’s lead vocalist. There were others involved, all in my head. What is amazing is that track eleven barely interested me forty years ago aside from her singing. Now? It will be playing at my funeral, if there is such a thing. The song is deeper in my heart than most of the fucking people I’ve known. There you go. How fucked up is that? God damn, I still love that woman like you wouldn’t believe. In. My. Heart. Permanently.

I should have known early on that not much would be accomplished today. Everything has become very difficult because I can’t concentrate. My head is almost constantly going either back in time or toward some surreal, dreamy landscape that cannot exist. Whichever wins out doesn’t matter; both are equally bad for me.

Tuesday morning is here regardless of my feelings. I fell off the deep end for a while yesterday because of a music choice. Some songs can really destroy me and should be avoided, yet at the same time I really love them and have to play the music sometimes when I am feeling overly emotional. The feelings run very deep and most of the time they can’t be avoided. I suppress as much as I can. That doesn’t always work. Yesterday I ended up pacing around the closed garage with a cocktail and the MDRs across my head. I couldn’t do anything. I listened while working on the tree, took a pause, and then went back to the music. Bad idea. I further cut myself by veering over to another album from the same era and nearly lost my shit completely before barely regaining my composure and working in the kitchen for dinner. Willa is in this season, all slender and adorable. Damn. Anyway, I fell into a pit and then climbed out. That process will only work both ways for so long. Eventually, I’ll fall down and that will be that. The last occasion will be the last occasion, if you get my meaning. I can only do this for so long. I’m sure the music will call me again in the future, and then we shall see forsooth. I don’t think the MDRs can take another session of being worn until I replace the ear pads, so unless I opt for the wired version, everything will have to wait until the new pads arrive in a few days. The original units did not last very long because I wore the headphones several times per week. The replacement versions were highly rated, but ended up being just as fragile as the factory pads around the inner circle. I am going to try another manufacturer and see what happens. I refuse to spend excess money on the originals because they are very expensive and will not outlast aftermarket pads. I am talking about a generic manufacturer who is asking less than ten dollars for a new pair. I’ll try them.

Yesterday was a prime example of how fragile my mind can be at times. I end up on that sharp edge almost every fucking day, falling off in either direction seems to be nothing more than chance. I have very little power over anything these days, least of all the decision between following a productive and healthy path or allowing myself to double over while reeling from the present, lamenting the past and the vast progress since those years, and wondering how much longer I can deal with these feelings before pulling the trigger. Good and bad, that is. As I’ve said before, death is freedom from ‘feeling’, and I believe strongly in the idea that many suicides were carried out for the same reason. We will soon know if the menagerie can remain solo – something that goes against doctrine – or if the god/sex amalgamation is a construct that actually actually exists out there. At present, there is no way to know because the world is just too big. Do not try to understand this. Just know that yesterday’s fall was a byproduct of me being unable to deal with reality. God/sex. Menagerie. Wait for it. I will do my best to avoid any big falls today.

Lifeless. Definitely. This is no way to live, hence the titles. I don’t know what else to do. In fact, I haven’t known what to do for a very long time. This process has gone in circles for years, too. YEARS. What does that mean? Have my feelings and desires toward the ‘correct’ type of connection gone off the deep end and become so specific that everything is completely impossible? YOU make the call.

0938 and the vampires continue on my right-hand display. Splendid. The coffee is gone and I should be heading toward my housework very soon. The inside of my head is not going to improve no matter which way I turn, but at least I can distract myself for a while and avoid a disastrous situation. I’ve done it before.

1100, straight up. The routine is done and so is my ability to think clearly. That means it’s time for a drink, right? Tell me otherwise and I’ll shoot your ideas out of the sky like so many skeets. I just don’t care. And even at this early hour, a portion of my brain is heading toward giving up on anything productive in favor of (believe it or not) disassembling one of the models so it can be returned to its box. Sometimes working with the pieces helps me relax. I don’t want today to end up like yesterday.

Maybe I don’t have a choice. ‘We will unfuck this situation at a later date.’

Nope. And enough of this lifeless shit."



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