February 8th, 2024 9:43am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. The Ice Vane read ( words) "I've been frozen for nearly four years, possibly longer. ‘You have many fine qualities. You are big and strong...’ Thanks, princess. My condition is worse with each published entry. Maybe if I begin clipping them from the top down I’ll head in the opposite direction. Nope. Not funny. Nothing is funny. I don’t even know why that popped into my fucking head. The goddess’ face from this morning and her subsequent change in expression are still looming large over everything else in the world. I don’t know how I went from a strong, independent and productive member of society to this pathetic, little, weakened, desperate and frozen ‘thing’ that defies description, however this is where I have arrived regardless of any questions. I just have to sit here and lump it. Svetlana’s observation from above is not something I’d like to deal with right now because it hits too close to the keywords, but the line keeps spinning circles around my brain. Eh... It will fade soon enough (but there will be another). There is no shortage of disparagement in the media these days. Always something. Always. Believe it or not, I am tempted to describe the massive chasm of thoughts and feelings that went through my head during those few seconds, both new and as related to past connections. Her expression did it all. Recall what I said about a strong wind... This is likely the weakest I’ve ever felt. More thinking is on tap before I dive into the storm that developed inside my brain this morning. Did I want her to care for me? Hold me? Make all the bad go away? Yes... Most definitely. At the same time, I felt the dire need to care for her, to lavish her with loving affection and attention so that she would realize how important she is to me. Pathetic. I am having visions of running away and demonstrating just how much I appreciate her unique beauty. Eh... Maybe the full weight of what I’ve been feeling for the last four hours is too much. I would have frozen completely given the opportunity to speak to her at all. Frozen. This vane is showing me all sorts of fucking problems. I can’t believe the way I think these days. This is fucking ridiculous. I am weak and powerless; desperate and needy. I have never felt so far from the past. God fucking damn it... She was so adorable that the feelings are continuing to grow. I am absolutely pathetic. Monday. I dreamed about her arms wrapped around me. I was so happy. And then? She was ripped away. I don’t want to dream about her anymore. My mornings are tough enough already without adding love on top of everything else. Yes, I said love. I am not well by any stretch of the word. Her facial expression now combined with a situation in which we were together and isolated from others (we disappeared) adds up to needing her more than I did just a day ago. Need. Badly. I am desperate, but not enough to head over to the market in the off chance that I will see her. The main reason is that I already know the outcome. Nothing can ever come of this. Nothing. I may see her beautiful face again, my heart will explode into a million pieces, and then I’ll return home worse off and frozen in time yet again. There is not one fucking thing I can do about any of my feelings. I just have to sit here and absorb it all. I usually enjoy Monday mornings. This one is fraught with sadness and the knowledge that I lost that girl before ever speaking a word. I was never with her, yet I still lost everything. This is going to be one fucking tough uphill climb today. I really didn’t need that dream. Everything has gone steadily downhill throughout these last few years. There have been positives here and there – some of which I hesitate to describe here, unfortunately – but for the most part, my head and heart have suffered even more than my physical condition. Moreover, the latter has been affected and worsened due to being so depressed and empty for so long. I don’t see a way out of this because the more time that passes, the more desperate I become regarding comfort and understanding, both of which are now so damned skewed and specific that the likelihood of even a sliver of either has dropped to an all-time low. My reaction in the market yesterday was a good example of just how fucked up I’ve become. Add the dream to my already crazy feelings, and one can see that the slide from on high is much worse than I’ve described here. My brain simply will not give up at all. There is more, as well, however I believe very bad situations could develop if the information were to come to light. The best way for me to protect myself is to remain silent, closed off, and alone. I’ve stated many times that this condition is a circle, but the truth is more like a spiral because with each completed trip around, I am lower than at the beginning. The fact that I still can’t get the striking feelings or her face out of my head twenty four hours later is a prime example of the spiral. One little glimpse and I am wrecked. The power was out yesterday for more than three hours from mid-afternoon to the evening. I made a salad by candlelight while simultaneously trying to tether my phone to the laptop so I could have some video media keeping me company. I never made it work and ended up spending time in the garage (completely dark) while watching the insane weather pass us by. That’s the first time I could not get the streaming media to work at all. The situation was rather funny considering my deep-seated need to have my friends in the background. I’m sure the picture of me speaking out loud to the cats, phone and computer while chopping vegetables was humorous to see. Even I was laughing out loud. After realizing that the cellular connection would not carry enough bandwidth for video, I opted for a bit of music – over a pair of tiny speakers. That’s not my thing, but it was an emergency contingency and pretty much my only option. At least I made dinner without issue. Something very special and unexpected took place prior to the power returning. I still can’t believe it. The damaging dreams returned and expanded inside my head and I nearly lost my shit for a few minutes. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. The imagery and possibilities that developed inside my brain at light speed overtook my ability to make pleasant conversation, shortly thereafter driving me back into the house in an attempt to let go of my feelings. Trust me... They are more powerful than almost anything else in the world. Later, a remark meant to be funny injected more images into my head and I had to give up and go to sleep. The damaging dreams and reminders of other stirring situations may have combined with the goddess from yesterday and manufactured that fucking dream. The more I point out that I don’t need any more shit inside me, the more it seems to happen. I witnessed more sheer, natural beauty yesterday than I have in months. My levels of desperation and weakness have very likely destroyed any possibility of me rising at all, ever. I am having more difficulty dealing with what I’ve seen than ever before in my life. The smile and that little gesture skyrocketed her face and demeanor to the top of the fucking list, something I can never reconcile. This is so fucking bad that I can’t even scratch the surface. One of these days, I am going to kill myself and put an end to all this shit once and for all. I don’t know when, but make no fucking mistake. The need is ruining everything else. Not only the beautiful love of my life, Jamie, in this episode, but Aleksa Palladino as well. Splendid. Goo-ga to the nth degree. The weather is still very unsettled, although we are not being slapped around by the wind as much. I think this will be the norm for the next day or two, rain on and off. That’s fine because I can remain indoors for the duration. I’ll get to the housework when my coffee is gone. Maybe watching the third series while working will help me rise enough to finish all my stuff without further issues. I wish I had a switch to turn off desire and memory. Or maybe something with the power to make me forget everything I’ve ever lived. Clean slate, and all that shit. Anyway, all beauty and desire aside, my chores await. I’ll have the media on all three televisions in order to immerse myself in that universe and try to let everything go for a little while. Will I be successful? Probably not. While the background entertainment failed to dislodge all those dreams and visions, the weather most certainly did not. I awaited a break in the rain to move the garbage cans up my driveway because there was so much water that the cans created a dam. On the other side of the street, the water flow topped the sidewalk and I watched two recycle bins play demolition derby all the way down to the corner where they finally settled at the storm drain. Wow. My backyard is completely fucked right now. The heavy rain has been on and off for the last few hours. I can’t do fuck all about it until everything recedes, unfortunately. I swear, this is the last season that the rain gutters in the back overflow and drain beyond my control. I am going to build an extra downspout on the west end and direct most of the water to the side yard, after which it can flow between the houses and to the front. I should have done the job prior to fall last year, but there always seems to be plenty of time for such repairs. I guess the time got away from me, like always. I have most everything finished already and a nice, cold glass of depressive liquid here on the table. As long as the winds remain calm, there should not be a power issue today. I need my devices in place or I’ll fall off a cliff. Jamie’s huge eyes are killing me right now. At least what I feel for her character is love rather than physical desire. That’s a small plus in a sea of minuses. Clambake. I always end up seeing something that ruins my day, no matter what I may be doing. If there is nothing to see, the memories creep in and I become too powerless to rise. This is just fucking marvelous. Oh God, she is so beautiful that I can’t even understand the sight. I’ve been in love with Jamie for so many years... What a maroon. I am defeated beyond words. Maybe those dreams in which we were actually together did the trick. I don’t know. This is a bigger problem than a few years ago. Obsession is unhealthy, but I just can’t help it. Jamie is frozen in time to me, as are the five series’ and their principle characters. They are all just as frozen as I am. Everything is iced over. This vane is very unpleasant. My brain traveled back to my very short time with Ashley as I was cleaning the kitchen. It then shot forward to a conversation between myself and the Raven while relaxing at one of our favorite meeting places (a restaurant/bar, naturally). The Raven effectively reinforced Ashley’s viewpoint and fucking floored me when I inquired as to her feelings on the topic of desire. Whenever I daydream of being with Ashley – and that includes all of the discussions with Melanie and Ashley together – any plan or idea I may have for working around the house ends up frozen solid and I can barely move. She altered the way I consider certain situations, needs and dreams. The ideas are permanent and continue to germinate inside me as if there may be chances of the same in the future. Well, I don’t see it after all these years, and the knowledge is fucking paralyzing me a little at a time (hence my almost daily references to the final solution). I hear Ashley’s words over and over, repeating in my brain as if she is next to me reiterating her wondrous views. That was twenty fucking years ago and may well have begun a significant alteration to the way I think in general, and my feelings toward physical love in particular. It may also have ruined me for all time. Whatever the case, more and more I am hearing her speak all over again and imagining her sweet, sweet eyes looking into mine during the occasions. One was in her apartment, another took place while we lounged in my spa room at the Luxor. I wish I had known at the time that there would be only a single conversation later in life that came close to what she told me. Perhaps I would have broken my promise to Ashley and never left that town. Much could have been avoided, most importantly the way my life has been going for the last several years. That’s a fucking mouthful. I still miss her so badly that sometimes I can’t do anything but stand in the dining room and stare at everything. Motionless. Helpless. Broken. The obsession took off with force some time ago, merged with Ashley’s thoughts as related to the first shit situation, and eventually left me in a place sans escape and full of misery. I can’t even fully describe how fucking bad I feel right now. Maybe I’ll end up saying the same shit until death. ‘Muthafuckin’ God damned orange peel beef.’ – Tony is pissed off about their food delivery being incorrect. It’s funny. That’s why Gandolfini gets his OWN mountain. Do I need to include Alan’s quote again? I think I do... "...in the years since The Sopranos ended, there's almost been this TV-actor Mount Rushmore. Bryan Cranston [Breaking Bad] is on there, and Jon Hamm [Mad Men] is on there, and Elisabeth Moss [Mad Men, The Handmaid's Tale] or Claire Danes [Homeland] or somebody else is on there. But James Gandolfini gets his own mountain. With all due respect to everybody else, including Edie Falco [who played Tony Soprano's wife, Carmela], Gandolfini is the best dramatic actor in TV history, and I don't know that anybody else is particularly close." -- TV critic Alan Sepinwall on Gandolfini's performance as Tony Soprano. I'm having a hard time accepting that everything is behind me. Happiness, fulfillment, understanding and other aspects of life along similar lines – meaning those parts of living that give us reason to continue – seem so far away now, and that in spite of the fact that I had been in a good place not that long ago. Well, that was fucked up, too, due to my uncertainty in life and a shitload of fear. Sweatshirt; sweatpants. Baggy, oversized, droopy. Inside, however, was more magic than I can recall seeing in a very long time. No, the Latino goddess at the market did not garner such thoughts despite being slender. I did not look upon her in such a fashion; my feelings were deeper and far more dangerous. The sweats? That type of thing was not good for me, either, yet nearly impossible at this juncture, and in two ways... I cannot get there no matter the circumstances (or at least the difficulty would be overwhelming), and I am far worse of mind and body than a few years ago. Life will not allow such things any longer. A while ago I mentioned that there is no way for anything to be kept from my senses. I always know what is going on, and any attempts at deception will always fall flat no matter the effort. The baggy nature of some clothing makes no difference whatsoever. As an example, I brought up that horrible day when the Raven and I took a rail trip down the peninsula. Everything went to shit very quickly sometime after lunch, yet the magic came along prior to us ever boarding the train. I gently asked that She stand still for a moment – facing me, of course – with Her booties together. Well, that melted my brain away and I proceeded to tell the Raven how I felt about such things without gushing too much. She really did not like a ton of platitudes about Her physical beauty due to past incidents and the way Her family had regarding such things. Now go a step further and imagine that same form – five-seven and not far over one hundred ten pounds – wearing overalls. You’ve seen them before; a tiny frame swimming in oversized clothing. Well, that’s what I saw. I already had the knowledge, as well. I knew everything, meaning the baggy, droopy sweats did not in any way dissuade my brain from traveling all the way from her toes to the top of her pretty head over and over, aware of her shape the entire time. Baggy does not matter when the information is already secure. It doesn’t make any difference these days. Moreover, the difficulty in thinking clearly becomes exacerbated when those rare, wonderful little occasions come along, always unexpected. My heart leaps. My brain melts. My future darkens. My drinking rate increases. My life becomes unimportant. My hands shake. I saw too much, too soon, and now can’t rip the imagery from my head long enough to function like a real grown-up type of person. Once fallen, always fallen. There is no going back. The little reminder about the Raven and the way I worshiped Her fucking form harks back to the actual period of time when I was closest to pulling the trigger. I am heading in such a direction now because there is very little left in the world for me. I’ll keep seeing and becoming sad, the downtrodden nature of such events will turn to anger soon enough, and then I’ll sit here and try to get the fucking point across, but to no avail. My words can’t even begin to touch upon what I feel when I see those sweatpants. Not even fucking close. There it is. Sometimes there is no avoiding such thinking. I don't een know why I brought it up. Yesterday was very difficult, yet rather wondrous at the same time. I can’t be terribly clear on this shit. I truly wish I could spell it out here, but the consequences would be horrible and likely an end to me being able to relax in the morning with my thoughts and coffee. Everything would be upended, and I really don’t need that. I am referring to a five-second period of warmth followed by the rest of my life all fucked up. Eh... To hell with this crap. I don’t know if I want to go to the big-box store this morning or not. Leaving the house is never easy, yet returning is very comforting. I am on the last cup of coffee and will decide when it is gone. I am very sad this morning – not due to any new dreams, though – and don’t know if going outside is going to help or hurt. I’ve been exposed to masses of beauty thrice in two days and really don’t need any more of that shit right now. I have a head full at this very moment. And yes, I am still referring to the goddess that smiled at me. I can’t get her image out of my brain. Walking through the produce department was alright, but yesterday? I froze. Or rather, I was frozen by external forces and left to thaw after all was said and done. I need to speak with someone, God damn it, but I don’t know if I am actually capable of starting the process and coming out the other side ok. Heading into that type of therapy is a long-term project, and the beginning of the learning process can be very slow and unnerving, especially considering the sheer number of facets to this fucking condition. Thinking about the Latino goddess, the events from last night (don’t ask), and the idea of me finally being alone in the most comfortable place I have left in the world is not faring well for a defrost and trip over the hill. I may end up frozen to this chair. The cold vane cannot be denied and will not be ignored. So sad. Everything hurts right now. I need ‘her’ to hold me and make everything ok. I would have to control the situation completely. That’s just not going to happen in this life, unfortunately, yet it is absolutely necessary due to the shit situations and the way my mind has developed, risen, and subsequently fallen throughout the years since the failing fantasy. Still, and regardless of the likelihood of anything similar coming to pass, the necessity is real. Control is similar to needing a machine. One is unhealthy, while the other seems more suited to completely avoiding any difficulty, hurt feelings or any other type of disparagement. I have no wish to cause harm to anyone, ever. There is no way in hell I would be in a position to exercise my feelings, however. I already know that the future is nothing more than an extension of what has already transpired for many years. Very sad, this shit. I just keep typing. ‘Put the other one back on.’ I am not going to the big store today. No way. And the furnace job has not been brought up since last week, meaning there is a strong possibility that it’s been put off again. I don’t care. I need to be alone and holed up in this little house. I still have a bit of coffee left. Afterward, the usual. There is little else I can do anymore. Later. The daily shit is out of the way and I have a nice cocktail next to me. Unfortunately, something terrible and very unexpected took place a little while ago and I can’t get it out of my head. Whatever happened two years ago is again rearing its head and testing my willingness to go on living despite the change. I almost can’t deal with this shit anymore. Prior to kicking off my routine and pouring the drink, I stood helpless in the hallway and tried to decide if anything I do in life is worthwhile anymore. Oh, I often speak of ‘earning’ the relaxation in the evening after taking care of business each day, but this is far worse and more painful than anything in recent memory. I have no idea of what to do now aside from sitting here and typing. My feelings are still veiled, though. That’s a positive. Only I know what has been happening today. The more I think about this incident, the worse it becomes. Suffice to say, I will not be leaving the house at all. There are two individuals in the world who can help me. Two. That’s it. Neither are available. I considered stating a third, although the odds of that person helping me right now are akin to winning the fucking lottery. This is literally the worst I have ever felt in my entire life, and that is not an overstatement. The dim period when I lived in the cave seems like paradise right now... Right fucking now... Nothing can be held against the power of this latest blow to my head. And as usual, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. No respite. I just have to sit here and take it. I wish that goddess had been different. I wish something could have actually been there. Her expression informed me of much, and days later I still feel it inside just as I did when the race girl aimed her cat eyes at mine for several seconds. Everything... From the past to the dreams to reality; depression and alcoholism; sadness and gaping holes inside me... Everything is related and killing me. Maybe someone will tell me to back off on the booze consumption. I would love to explain it to them. Eh... Never mind. Finding reasons to lash out in whatever direction is easier than that. In fact, the occurrence would be nothing more than a random act. I don’t even need reasons to pull out the knives anymore. I am fallen, and consequences no longer make a lick of difference in this cold reality. Frozen? Yes, that too. Perhaps the ice vane will sharpen itself and lop off my miserable head once and for all. I can’t fight the vanes. This is the third vane dictating my path. What the fuck could be next? I’ve been sitting here for a short time as of right now, and the cats were all cozy and sleeping in an adorable pile on the loveseat in the living room. The house is very quiet and peaceful, just the way the cats and I like it. Well, a few minutes ago I saw a reflection in my neighbor’s truck telling me that two people were walking up the driveway. Shit. They were none other than the squareheads who visited just last Saturday. Knock-knock, and the cats awakened as I rose and moved out of the office. I do not want to see followers of religion right now because my frame of mind would dictate being very unpleasant, and those women do not deserve such shit. I waited. She knocked more forcefully and the cats became frightened and scampered to the bedroom. I hate when they are scared and run away. I don’t like to see them so uncomfortable – the cats are more dear to me than almost every human being in the world. I believe the time has come to install a small doorbell button that addresses me while here in the office. I will then have a sign made that informs anyone on the porch that they are NOT to knock at all, ever. They should just push the button. My neighbors already know to contact me via message if I am needed for anything. The squareheads will be informed very soon. They usually only visit on Saturdays, but unfortunately the last time they were here I did my best to avoid being unkind and told them another visit would be acceptable. I think the next opportunity I have to speak with them, I’m going to gently slam the fucking door. I can’t have my train of thought disrupted in such a fashion. That is that. The incident from earlier is going to ring inside my head like Satan’s fucking doorbell for a long time. If the slight change from two years ago turns out to be a permanent situation, my reaction is going to push people away because my mood will steadily worsen without end. I can’t help it. This will mark the second occasion in which something was ripped from inside me, never to return. The first was bad enough, yet this day squashes the earlier shit like an ant under the weight of the moon striking the earth. Sometimes I mention that I ‘hate everything’. This is one of those times. All of my devices summed cannot hold a candle to the changes in my life. This is a matter of time. I need 'her' to make everything ok. Do you know who 'she' is? Neither do I. One day I will learn the truth of whether or not 'she' actually exists, and the latter will represent the last time I draw breath (if not sooner). Ashley – God bless her sweet soul and kind heart – may have been the catalyst for a good portion of the way I think, and nothing good has come from it. As I said before, I do not blame that living doll, I only speak as such due to the way my life has unfolded during the ensuing years. I honestly did not believe that such a mindset existed and that I would be fruitlessly seeking something seemingly unbalanced due to the past. Well, I was derailed in the best way, yet years later realized that I ran across an enigma that would never appear again. Ashley is gone, as are all of the others who treated me in a similar manner. Vanessa Ferlito is in this episode and I can’t remember if she appears in another. I’ve always liked her in roles requiring an accent from New England because she kills it every time. The last time I saw her prior to this very moment was a movie from many years ago in which she had a slight accent and spoke some fantastic and stirring dialog. The woman is talented beyond belief, even if she’s always been typecast. I don’t care about the casting. Vanessa fills a spot that is very necessary for certain stories and the recreation of a very unique atmosphere. And yes... Before your head goes in such a direction, I’d love to kiss her for days on end because her lips are very beautiful. Arrest me for such thinking. Shoot me in the face; crucify me... I don’t give a shit. She is fucking gorgeous. I brought up talent first, shitbrains. Talent always supersedes beauty. You may not believe me due to how I view beauty and what it has done to me after the shit situations, but I speak the truth. Don’t even fucking get me started with Steve Buscemi... Actor, writer, director, producer, and a man with talent beyond comprehension. I fucking love him and have for decades. I may sit here all fucking day. My feelings don’t matter, so perhaps my behavior will make a difference. Perhaps not. As of this moment, the devices are holding me up. This is good, because the alternative is to allow the ice vane to keep me immobilized for the duration. As much as I have to resist the power of this latest vane, part of me is ready to give up entirely. Everything has been tiring me out for so long that I can barely recall the beginning. I had calculated that my needs changed after the beginning of the pandemic – roughly the time when I ceased full-time work – yet I believe this shit goes back much further. The Midwest is an isolated period in my head, separate from any other times when I embraced the media in order to find comfort, but the others, like prior to the trailer era and then 1236, stand as examples of me learning that though I gave up dreams in order to be secure, there were times when all of my efforts seemed worthwhile. I believe adding everything together from late zero-one to now can paint a picture of my overwhelming dependence upon the devices keeping me alive. The Midwest was powerful, too. After considering everything here, I believe my time spent in Livermore just prior to moving across the country was the start of yours truly needing very specific kinds of comforts in order to feel secure. The upside is my innate ability to find such things no matter what kind of changes in my living condition take place. The downside is that I’ve become frozen and unable to function without those little comforts. The bottom line is that I am the same now as I was thirty years ago when I arrived home from work in the middle of the night, heated some dinner, and then cozied into bed to watch my shows which were recorded on videotape a few hours earlier. Here I sit, no different. Just older and further from what I really need. Wednesday. I suppose the furnace work has been either put off or canceled because I’ve not heard a peep in days. Well, I don’t care. I am going to head over to the big box store within the hour to stock up on some items. Yesterday I fell on my face so hard that I was incapable of anything productive or otherwise helpful. This morning has been a touch better, so I’d like to get the shopping out of the way before disaster strikes again. It will, and soon. I need to get over there and back quickly. At some point, I will fall apart again. Doctrine. Yesterday was horrible, mellowed out a bit after lunch, and then went straight to hell prior to the close of business hours. I can’t have that shit today. Once in a while something comes along and illuminates the passage of time and I am literally powerless in throwing a save, like yesterday. It was horrible. Memories took me away, I was feeling very sad and lonely, and then a little push over the edge took place. I can’t outline that one, but suffice to say it was yet another reminder that everything good in life is behind me. I mentioned that I’ve been having trouble accepting as much. There is a part of me still fruitlessly searching for something with the power to lift me once and for all, but if you think about the way I worded that one, you’ll see that it means I am sitting here waiting. The search is passive, if you will. That means I’m wishing that everything will be ok via ‘her’ coming to me, or conversely, me spotting ‘her’ in society, somewhere. Do you see more than one fucking problem here? Will Shilo come through the gates of Starlite Hills and rescue me? Fuck no. Do I still dream that she will? Yep. Everything came to a head yesterday – with one huge demonstration of how different I am now versus years ago – and I nearly lost it for all time. The little devices managed to hold me together just long enough for another distraction to come along and take over the job. Splendid. The point is I need to be vigilant today rather than a fucking doormat... A slave to the circumstances. My devices are going to have to help me upon returning from the store. Well, I indeed went shopping at the big store and came out the other side almost fine. Naturally, and due to my obsession with certain types of form, I saw problems over there. Two, to be exact; one Asian and the other not. The Asian girl was fucking slender and fairly tall despite her apparent heritage. My instinct told me that she was Chinese due to the prevalence of that nationality on the other side of the hill. Whatever the case, I could not believe my fucking eyes, as usual. She struck me and I moved on, never to see her again during my stroll through the store. The other one was fucking gorgeous, likely into her forties, and probably had no idea of how she appeared to other people. I saw her twice and made a beeline away to continue following my list. From there, everything was fine. They faded by the time I reached my car again. I will say that despite the mass of people pouring into the store when I arrived, the checkout process was fast and smooth. The only difficulty was the weather. The forecast was for ‘scattered’ showers, but the reality was very heavy rain and wind on the drive home. Had I known there would be streams and rivers flowing across the highways, I would have opted to take surface streets home. The route is slower but much safer. I don’t trust others on the road. Some don’t alter their driving habits during inclement weather and it scares me. I arrived, organized everything and immediately took care of the daily routine. Now I can reap the reward: No place to go and a nice cocktail here on the table. Thank the maker for this little house some days. The impact of black leggings wrapped around an amazing form often takes a back seat to what I feel when I reach home after a difficult journey. I guess that’s a positive. Better than nothing. Now I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. I have to stop thinking about two specific women, otherwise I will not survive for much longer. I’ve spoken of both here, although what I’ve written is very ambiguous. The holes inside me were at issue during both relationships and I experienced some of the most caring behavior and conversation of my entire life at the time. All of it is gone and the pain takes over too often. I need to find a way to remove those two angels from my brain, even for short periods each day. Distractions? Maybe. At this point in my life, finding anything that can cause me to forget all of the bad is not fucking easy. Most of the time I only succeed partially, later realizing that I am mostly powerless in shoving the memories aside. I have engaged in questionable behavior lately and can’t help but compare it to my hijinks in the past (fairly long past now, for sure). There is no fucking way I can describe any of it here in detail, though. I’d be hanged in the town square. Just know that I am aware of the things that have come to mind lately as a result of my continually diminishing mental and emotional state. What seemed completely out of the question some years ago is now acceptable from a standpoint of survival, and the catalyst for all this shit is my inability to secure enough resources to fly the coop and find some excellent, artificial comfort within the most stirring illusion in the world. I just can’t fucking do anything right now. I am not happy with myself, either. This is nothing horrible, only another reason for me to question everything. I don't even know why I brought the topic here. Maybe I spend too much time dwelling on how I might appear to other people if they knew. Ugh. Whatever. Two of the three women singing at a Jewish wedding in this episode are fucking stunning and I want to tell them as much. Isn’t that fucking peachy? The Asian leggings are fading but still apparent. I am so weak. Matter of time. By the way, despite the fact that the images of Jamie within this entry, if a possibility for understanding were to come along, I would not make comparisons. I do not know her. I do not know what may happen. I just need the fucking possibility. Jamie is behind everything, but not so powerful that I would reject a real person. After all these years of me gushing my heart out over Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes, one might believe that my head would not be open to anything. The opposite is true, even if the odds are in the fucking exosphere. The next day has come. Here it is. Today. Yesterday is gone. What does this mean? Aside from no traveling requirement, nothing. I received notice that the furnace job will probably be next week. That is fine. Today I would like to spend an extended morning on this machine to gather my thoughts. Coffee, my friends over there on the right-hand display (occasionally), and the keyboard are all I need for a long while. Once the morning business is out of the way, I’m going to attach myself to this chair and enjoy the fact that I need not leave the house. Never mind the images of Jamie. They are all gone now. Later... And now the house is peaceful and quiet for the bulk of the day. I need the time, especially now. After the shit over the weekend and being struck upside the head thrice, my brain requires a lot of time to balance itself as much as possible, or at least enough to function from one day to the next. I am right in the middle of a very bad time, as some of the statements above can attest. The terrible incident from a few days ago represents something that may continue to affect me for the rest of my life, and, if so, I must either learn to live with it or seek something that can actually make me forget the situation entirely. I don’t even know if such a solution exists, though. Drugs? Yeah, they can alter almost any consciousness and morph it into something else, but the user may end up permanently fucked. The slim chance of something along those lines – chemicals, and not alcohol – is not worth the almost guaranteed downside. Anything with the power and/or ability to help me cannot be categorized as such because of two reasons. First, there must be an emotional component present in order to help my heart, and second, I am still completely frozen due to the first two vanes and my inability to find additional reasons for giving a shit about life anymore. I can’t get that fucking morning out of my head, I can’t speak to anyone about what happened, and I have nothing in my life powerful enough to actually help me forget for a while. The options are all worthless. I must think about everything and try to be patient. Today’s quiet may be helpful. ‘Got yourself a gun.’ Oh, Jamie. Just hold me... Please. Every time I see something about Vegas on the news, I recall my last couple of trips to that gigantic machine and the fact that I ran there without knowing what I might find. I had no idea that Ellie or Jana or anyone else might be holding me for a while, though I needed it so badly. I felt almost as desperate as I do right now, believe it or not. I thought I was in bad shape during that period, but little did I know that all of the importance in life would soon shut down, be ripped away, or otherwise squished without remorse. The cave period was not as bad, honestly, though I felt that any day the end of the world would come along and swallow me whole. Nope. If I could go back and live through a few months out of that year I’d take it in a cold minute. I really would. There were aspects of being in that place – some internal and one external – which helped me more than I thought at the time, much like my waning devices around this house. Early eleven was when I headed to Florida to visit my family and then turned on a dime, met Andrea in Pensacola, and ran away for a few weeks at great expense. I met Ellie shortly after falling on my face at Andrea’s departure (I can still hear her booties on the marble floor, much like remembering the goddess and our many trips all over the Bay Area). I took three trips to the goblet between January and April, each one holding its own measure of comfort, the likes of which seem nonexistent in the world anymore. I keep going back to that time and then I sit here and marvel at how different I am right now. The kept vane did not exist. I was in the wind all the fucking time. Slashed? Oh, yes... I had been slashed to pieces by that fucking vane, over and over for many months, yet somehow the time spent in that place still cannot compare to the present. Perhaps the pieces are smaller and too many are missing. Now I am frozen. Different. Frightened. No one is going to be there. No one. If I run to some exotic place or dash to the goblet, my feelings will not change. I will be exactly the same – possibly worse – and there will be no one else; no one will be waiting to hold me. Everyone is as gone as my ambition. Vegas reminders still have the power to make me smile, yet most of the time all I feel is pain. What I have here on this fucking table is all I will ever have. Not a person or people; no machine; no ‘her’. Only ‘stuff’. I don’t know if I should watch the big game on Sunday. It will be played in Vegas, meaning the hype and references, imagery and stories are going to be abundant. The result could be far worse than what happened the other morning. Those trips – in the end – may have been my whole life... A representation of ‘me’ through questionable means, a combination of loneliness, desperately trying to understand, and needing to be understood. I don’t know anymore because so much time has passed that I’ve become completely frozen. I need to find a way of removing that girl from my head. Time will help, I’m sure, but right now I keep seeing that little gesture over and over and it’s killing me. She conveyed so much of her personality through that motion... It told me things that I’m certain are not real, yet I can’t stop considering possibilities. Did I mention how ridiculous all this shit has become? A girl in the produce department looking at me is completely meaningless, however my brain and the way it has been operating for years will not disallow me feeling so desperate that it manufactures scenarios out of thin fucking air, much like that woman on the side of the road more than three years ago. Was she looking for me? Of course not. Did the girl in the market look at me that way because she wants to save my life? Of course not. Is there a person out there waiting to help me? No fucking way. Everything becomes amplified inside me out of sheer desperation and an inability to deal with reality as it has developed over the years. I am so pathetic that I can’t believe it sometimes. The shit never stops, though, no matter how fucking stupid I come across. She will fade with time, my mood will mellow some, but the whole fucking shootin’ match will happen again. I’m certain of it. The person I am on the inside is far too full of need for external events to not affect me so deeply. Go back to Shilo again, and remember that I was between six and nine when I imagined her out of sheer desperation. On the inside, I am likely the same age right now as I was then. One more time... Pathetic. Well, not all is horrible. At least I know what I am. Frozen. The vanes are taking me from myself. The simplest tasks now seem insurmountable as opposed to months ago. Each strike forces the ice vane to smack me upside the head and I grow colder with every passing day. Slashing was bad enough. I don’t need this shit, nor do I know what to do. This was a matter of time, much like everything else having come to pass in recent years. A matter of time. The past returns, slashes me to ribbons, and then I feel helpless; frozen in time. In mind? Perhaps. Something is coming." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
February 8th, 2024 9:43am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. The Ice Vane read ( words) "I've been frozen for nearly four years, possibly longer. ‘You have many fine qualities. You are big and strong...’ Thanks, princess. My condition is worse with each published entry. Maybe if I begin clipping them from the top down I’ll head in the opposite direction. Nope. Not funny. Nothing is funny. I don’t even know why that popped into my fucking head. The goddess’ face from this morning and her subsequent change in expression are still looming large over everything else in the world. I don’t know how I went from a strong, independent and productive member of society to this pathetic, little, weakened, desperate and frozen ‘thing’ that defies description, however this is where I have arrived regardless of any questions. I just have to sit here and lump it. Svetlana’s observation from above is not something I’d like to deal with right now because it hits too close to the keywords, but the line keeps spinning circles around my brain. Eh... It will fade soon enough (but there will be another). There is no shortage of disparagement in the media these days. Always something. Always. Believe it or not, I am tempted to describe the massive chasm of thoughts and feelings that went through my head during those few seconds, both new and as related to past connections. Her expression did it all. Recall what I said about a strong wind... This is likely the weakest I’ve ever felt. More thinking is on tap before I dive into the storm that developed inside my brain this morning. Did I want her to care for me? Hold me? Make all the bad go away? Yes... Most definitely. At the same time, I felt the dire need to care for her, to lavish her with loving affection and attention so that she would realize how important she is to me. Pathetic. I am having visions of running away and demonstrating just how much I appreciate her unique beauty. Eh... Maybe the full weight of what I’ve been feeling for the last four hours is too much. I would have frozen completely given the opportunity to speak to her at all. Frozen. This vane is showing me all sorts of fucking problems. I can’t believe the way I think these days. This is fucking ridiculous. I am weak and powerless; desperate and needy. I have never felt so far from the past. God fucking damn it... She was so adorable that the feelings are continuing to grow. I am absolutely pathetic. Monday. I dreamed about her arms wrapped around me. I was so happy. And then? She was ripped away. I don’t want to dream about her anymore. My mornings are tough enough already without adding love on top of everything else. Yes, I said love. I am not well by any stretch of the word. Her facial expression now combined with a situation in which we were together and isolated from others (we disappeared) adds up to needing her more than I did just a day ago. Need. Badly. I am desperate, but not enough to head over to the market in the off chance that I will see her. The main reason is that I already know the outcome. Nothing can ever come of this. Nothing. I may see her beautiful face again, my heart will explode into a million pieces, and then I’ll return home worse off and frozen in time yet again. There is not one fucking thing I can do about any of my feelings. I just have to sit here and absorb it all. I usually enjoy Monday mornings. This one is fraught with sadness and the knowledge that I lost that girl before ever speaking a word. I was never with her, yet I still lost everything. This is going to be one fucking tough uphill climb today. I really didn’t need that dream. Everything has gone steadily downhill throughout these last few years. There have been positives here and there – some of which I hesitate to describe here, unfortunately – but for the most part, my head and heart have suffered even more than my physical condition. Moreover, the latter has been affected and worsened due to being so depressed and empty for so long. I don’t see a way out of this because the more time that passes, the more desperate I become regarding comfort and understanding, both of which are now so damned skewed and specific that the likelihood of even a sliver of either has dropped to an all-time low. My reaction in the market yesterday was a good example of just how fucked up I’ve become. Add the dream to my already crazy feelings, and one can see that the slide from on high is much worse than I’ve described here. My brain simply will not give up at all. There is more, as well, however I believe very bad situations could develop if the information were to come to light. The best way for me to protect myself is to remain silent, closed off, and alone. I’ve stated many times that this condition is a circle, but the truth is more like a spiral because with each completed trip around, I am lower than at the beginning. The fact that I still can’t get the striking feelings or her face out of my head twenty four hours later is a prime example of the spiral. One little glimpse and I am wrecked. The power was out yesterday for more than three hours from mid-afternoon to the evening. I made a salad by candlelight while simultaneously trying to tether my phone to the laptop so I could have some video media keeping me company. I never made it work and ended up spending time in the garage (completely dark) while watching the insane weather pass us by. That’s the first time I could not get the streaming media to work at all. The situation was rather funny considering my deep-seated need to have my friends in the background. I’m sure the picture of me speaking out loud to the cats, phone and computer while chopping vegetables was humorous to see. Even I was laughing out loud. After realizing that the cellular connection would not carry enough bandwidth for video, I opted for a bit of music – over a pair of tiny speakers. That’s not my thing, but it was an emergency contingency and pretty much my only option. At least I made dinner without issue. Something very special and unexpected took place prior to the power returning. I still can’t believe it. The damaging dreams returned and expanded inside my head and I nearly lost my shit for a few minutes. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. The imagery and possibilities that developed inside my brain at light speed overtook my ability to make pleasant conversation, shortly thereafter driving me back into the house in an attempt to let go of my feelings. Trust me... They are more powerful than almost anything else in the world. Later, a remark meant to be funny injected more images into my head and I had to give up and go to sleep. The damaging dreams and reminders of other stirring situations may have combined with the goddess from yesterday and manufactured that fucking dream. The more I point out that I don’t need any more shit inside me, the more it seems to happen. I witnessed more sheer, natural beauty yesterday than I have in months. My levels of desperation and weakness have very likely destroyed any possibility of me rising at all, ever. I am having more difficulty dealing with what I’ve seen than ever before in my life. The smile and that little gesture skyrocketed her face and demeanor to the top of the fucking list, something I can never reconcile. This is so fucking bad that I can’t even scratch the surface. One of these days, I am going to kill myself and put an end to all this shit once and for all. I don’t know when, but make no fucking mistake. The need is ruining everything else. Not only the beautiful love of my life, Jamie, in this episode, but Aleksa Palladino as well. Splendid. Goo-ga to the nth degree. The weather is still very unsettled, although we are not being slapped around by the wind as much. I think this will be the norm for the next day or two, rain on and off. That’s fine because I can remain indoors for the duration. I’ll get to the housework when my coffee is gone. Maybe watching the third series while working will help me rise enough to finish all my stuff without further issues. I wish I had a switch to turn off desire and memory. Or maybe something with the power to make me forget everything I’ve ever lived. Clean slate, and all that shit. Anyway, all beauty and desire aside, my chores await. I’ll have the media on all three televisions in order to immerse myself in that universe and try to let everything go for a little while. Will I be successful? Probably not. While the background entertainment failed to dislodge all those dreams and visions, the weather most certainly did not. I awaited a break in the rain to move the garbage cans up my driveway because there was so much water that the cans created a dam. On the other side of the street, the water flow topped the sidewalk and I watched two recycle bins play demolition derby all the way down to the corner where they finally settled at the storm drain. Wow. My backyard is completely fucked right now. The heavy rain has been on and off for the last few hours. I can’t do fuck all about it until everything recedes, unfortunately. I swear, this is the last season that the rain gutters in the back overflow and drain beyond my control. I am going to build an extra downspout on the west end and direct most of the water to the side yard, after which it can flow between the houses and to the front. I should have done the job prior to fall last year, but there always seems to be plenty of time for such repairs. I guess the time got away from me, like always. I have most everything finished already and a nice, cold glass of depressive liquid here on the table. As long as the winds remain calm, there should not be a power issue today. I need my devices in place or I’ll fall off a cliff. Jamie’s huge eyes are killing me right now. At least what I feel for her character is love rather than physical desire. That’s a small plus in a sea of minuses. Clambake. I always end up seeing something that ruins my day, no matter what I may be doing. If there is nothing to see, the memories creep in and I become too powerless to rise. This is just fucking marvelous. Oh God, she is so beautiful that I can’t even understand the sight. I’ve been in love with Jamie for so many years... What a maroon. I am defeated beyond words. Maybe those dreams in which we were actually together did the trick. I don’t know. This is a bigger problem than a few years ago. Obsession is unhealthy, but I just can’t help it. Jamie is frozen in time to me, as are the five series’ and their principle characters. They are all just as frozen as I am. Everything is iced over. This vane is very unpleasant. My brain traveled back to my very short time with Ashley as I was cleaning the kitchen. It then shot forward to a conversation between myself and the Raven while relaxing at one of our favorite meeting places (a restaurant/bar, naturally). The Raven effectively reinforced Ashley’s viewpoint and fucking floored me when I inquired as to her feelings on the topic of desire. Whenever I daydream of being with Ashley – and that includes all of the discussions with Melanie and Ashley together – any plan or idea I may have for working around the house ends up frozen solid and I can barely move. She altered the way I consider certain situations, needs and dreams. The ideas are permanent and continue to germinate inside me as if there may be chances of the same in the future. Well, I don’t see it after all these years, and the knowledge is fucking paralyzing me a little at a time (hence my almost daily references to the final solution). I hear Ashley’s words over and over, repeating in my brain as if she is next to me reiterating her wondrous views. That was twenty fucking years ago and may well have begun a significant alteration to the way I think in general, and my feelings toward physical love in particular. It may also have ruined me for all time. Whatever the case, more and more I am hearing her speak all over again and imagining her sweet, sweet eyes looking into mine during the occasions. One was in her apartment, another took place while we lounged in my spa room at the Luxor. I wish I had known at the time that there would be only a single conversation later in life that came close to what she told me. Perhaps I would have broken my promise to Ashley and never left that town. Much could have been avoided, most importantly the way my life has been going for the last several years. That’s a fucking mouthful. I still miss her so badly that sometimes I can’t do anything but stand in the dining room and stare at everything. Motionless. Helpless. Broken. The obsession took off with force some time ago, merged with Ashley’s thoughts as related to the first shit situation, and eventually left me in a place sans escape and full of misery. I can’t even fully describe how fucking bad I feel right now. Maybe I’ll end up saying the same shit until death. ‘Muthafuckin’ God damned orange peel beef.’ – Tony is pissed off about their food delivery being incorrect. It’s funny. That’s why Gandolfini gets his OWN mountain. Do I need to include Alan’s quote again? I think I do... "...in the years since The Sopranos ended, there's almost been this TV-actor Mount Rushmore. Bryan Cranston [Breaking Bad] is on there, and Jon Hamm [Mad Men] is on there, and Elisabeth Moss [Mad Men, The Handmaid's Tale] or Claire Danes [Homeland] or somebody else is on there. But James Gandolfini gets his own mountain. With all due respect to everybody else, including Edie Falco [who played Tony Soprano's wife, Carmela], Gandolfini is the best dramatic actor in TV history, and I don't know that anybody else is particularly close." -- TV critic Alan Sepinwall on Gandolfini's performance as Tony Soprano. I'm having a hard time accepting that everything is behind me. Happiness, fulfillment, understanding and other aspects of life along similar lines – meaning those parts of living that give us reason to continue – seem so far away now, and that in spite of the fact that I had been in a good place not that long ago. Well, that was fucked up, too, due to my uncertainty in life and a shitload of fear. Sweatshirt; sweatpants. Baggy, oversized, droopy. Inside, however, was more magic than I can recall seeing in a very long time. No, the Latino goddess at the market did not garner such thoughts despite being slender. I did not look upon her in such a fashion; my feelings were deeper and far more dangerous. The sweats? That type of thing was not good for me, either, yet nearly impossible at this juncture, and in two ways... I cannot get there no matter the circumstances (or at least the difficulty would be overwhelming), and I am far worse of mind and body than a few years ago. Life will not allow such things any longer. A while ago I mentioned that there is no way for anything to be kept from my senses. I always know what is going on, and any attempts at deception will always fall flat no matter the effort. The baggy nature of some clothing makes no difference whatsoever. As an example, I brought up that horrible day when the Raven and I took a rail trip down the peninsula. Everything went to shit very quickly sometime after lunch, yet the magic came along prior to us ever boarding the train. I gently asked that She stand still for a moment – facing me, of course – with Her booties together. Well, that melted my brain away and I proceeded to tell the Raven how I felt about such things without gushing too much. She really did not like a ton of platitudes about Her physical beauty due to past incidents and the way Her family had regarding such things. Now go a step further and imagine that same form – five-seven and not far over one hundred ten pounds – wearing overalls. You’ve seen them before; a tiny frame swimming in oversized clothing. Well, that’s what I saw. I already had the knowledge, as well. I knew everything, meaning the baggy, droopy sweats did not in any way dissuade my brain from traveling all the way from her toes to the top of her pretty head over and over, aware of her shape the entire time. Baggy does not matter when the information is already secure. It doesn’t make any difference these days. Moreover, the difficulty in thinking clearly becomes exacerbated when those rare, wonderful little occasions come along, always unexpected. My heart leaps. My brain melts. My future darkens. My drinking rate increases. My life becomes unimportant. My hands shake. I saw too much, too soon, and now can’t rip the imagery from my head long enough to function like a real grown-up type of person. Once fallen, always fallen. There is no going back. The little reminder about the Raven and the way I worshiped Her fucking form harks back to the actual period of time when I was closest to pulling the trigger. I am heading in such a direction now because there is very little left in the world for me. I’ll keep seeing and becoming sad, the downtrodden nature of such events will turn to anger soon enough, and then I’ll sit here and try to get the fucking point across, but to no avail. My words can’t even begin to touch upon what I feel when I see those sweatpants. Not even fucking close. There it is. Sometimes there is no avoiding such thinking. I don't een know why I brought it up. Yesterday was very difficult, yet rather wondrous at the same time. I can’t be terribly clear on this shit. I truly wish I could spell it out here, but the consequences would be horrible and likely an end to me being able to relax in the morning with my thoughts and coffee. Everything would be upended, and I really don’t need that. I am referring to a five-second period of warmth followed by the rest of my life all fucked up. Eh... To hell with this crap. I don’t know if I want to go to the big-box store this morning or not. Leaving the house is never easy, yet returning is very comforting. I am on the last cup of coffee and will decide when it is gone. I am very sad this morning – not due to any new dreams, though – and don’t know if going outside is going to help or hurt. I’ve been exposed to masses of beauty thrice in two days and really don’t need any more of that shit right now. I have a head full at this very moment. And yes, I am still referring to the goddess that smiled at me. I can’t get her image out of my brain. Walking through the produce department was alright, but yesterday? I froze. Or rather, I was frozen by external forces and left to thaw after all was said and done. I need to speak with someone, God damn it, but I don’t know if I am actually capable of starting the process and coming out the other side ok. Heading into that type of therapy is a long-term project, and the beginning of the learning process can be very slow and unnerving, especially considering the sheer number of facets to this fucking condition. Thinking about the Latino goddess, the events from last night (don’t ask), and the idea of me finally being alone in the most comfortable place I have left in the world is not faring well for a defrost and trip over the hill. I may end up frozen to this chair. The cold vane cannot be denied and will not be ignored. So sad. Everything hurts right now. I need ‘her’ to hold me and make everything ok. I would have to control the situation completely. That’s just not going to happen in this life, unfortunately, yet it is absolutely necessary due to the shit situations and the way my mind has developed, risen, and subsequently fallen throughout the years since the failing fantasy. Still, and regardless of the likelihood of anything similar coming to pass, the necessity is real. Control is similar to needing a machine. One is unhealthy, while the other seems more suited to completely avoiding any difficulty, hurt feelings or any other type of disparagement. I have no wish to cause harm to anyone, ever. There is no way in hell I would be in a position to exercise my feelings, however. I already know that the future is nothing more than an extension of what has already transpired for many years. Very sad, this shit. I just keep typing. ‘Put the other one back on.’ I am not going to the big store today. No way. And the furnace job has not been brought up since last week, meaning there is a strong possibility that it’s been put off again. I don’t care. I need to be alone and holed up in this little house. I still have a bit of coffee left. Afterward, the usual. There is little else I can do anymore. Later. The daily shit is out of the way and I have a nice cocktail next to me. Unfortunately, something terrible and very unexpected took place a little while ago and I can’t get it out of my head. Whatever happened two years ago is again rearing its head and testing my willingness to go on living despite the change. I almost can’t deal with this shit anymore. Prior to kicking off my routine and pouring the drink, I stood helpless in the hallway and tried to decide if anything I do in life is worthwhile anymore. Oh, I often speak of ‘earning’ the relaxation in the evening after taking care of business each day, but this is far worse and more painful than anything in recent memory. I have no idea of what to do now aside from sitting here and typing. My feelings are still veiled, though. That’s a positive. Only I know what has been happening today. The more I think about this incident, the worse it becomes. Suffice to say, I will not be leaving the house at all. There are two individuals in the world who can help me. Two. That’s it. Neither are available. I considered stating a third, although the odds of that person helping me right now are akin to winning the fucking lottery. This is literally the worst I have ever felt in my entire life, and that is not an overstatement. The dim period when I lived in the cave seems like paradise right now... Right fucking now... Nothing can be held against the power of this latest blow to my head. And as usual, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. No respite. I just have to sit here and take it. I wish that goddess had been different. I wish something could have actually been there. Her expression informed me of much, and days later I still feel it inside just as I did when the race girl aimed her cat eyes at mine for several seconds. Everything... From the past to the dreams to reality; depression and alcoholism; sadness and gaping holes inside me... Everything is related and killing me. Maybe someone will tell me to back off on the booze consumption. I would love to explain it to them. Eh... Never mind. Finding reasons to lash out in whatever direction is easier than that. In fact, the occurrence would be nothing more than a random act. I don’t even need reasons to pull out the knives anymore. I am fallen, and consequences no longer make a lick of difference in this cold reality. Frozen? Yes, that too. Perhaps the ice vane will sharpen itself and lop off my miserable head once and for all. I can’t fight the vanes. This is the third vane dictating my path. What the fuck could be next? I’ve been sitting here for a short time as of right now, and the cats were all cozy and sleeping in an adorable pile on the loveseat in the living room. The house is very quiet and peaceful, just the way the cats and I like it. Well, a few minutes ago I saw a reflection in my neighbor’s truck telling me that two people were walking up the driveway. Shit. They were none other than the squareheads who visited just last Saturday. Knock-knock, and the cats awakened as I rose and moved out of the office. I do not want to see followers of religion right now because my frame of mind would dictate being very unpleasant, and those women do not deserve such shit. I waited. She knocked more forcefully and the cats became frightened and scampered to the bedroom. I hate when they are scared and run away. I don’t like to see them so uncomfortable – the cats are more dear to me than almost every human being in the world. I believe the time has come to install a small doorbell button that addresses me while here in the office. I will then have a sign made that informs anyone on the porch that they are NOT to knock at all, ever. They should just push the button. My neighbors already know to contact me via message if I am needed for anything. The squareheads will be informed very soon. They usually only visit on Saturdays, but unfortunately the last time they were here I did my best to avoid being unkind and told them another visit would be acceptable. I think the next opportunity I have to speak with them, I’m going to gently slam the fucking door. I can’t have my train of thought disrupted in such a fashion. That is that. The incident from earlier is going to ring inside my head like Satan’s fucking doorbell for a long time. If the slight change from two years ago turns out to be a permanent situation, my reaction is going to push people away because my mood will steadily worsen without end. I can’t help it. This will mark the second occasion in which something was ripped from inside me, never to return. The first was bad enough, yet this day squashes the earlier shit like an ant under the weight of the moon striking the earth. Sometimes I mention that I ‘hate everything’. This is one of those times. All of my devices summed cannot hold a candle to the changes in my life. This is a matter of time. I need 'her' to make everything ok. Do you know who 'she' is? Neither do I. One day I will learn the truth of whether or not 'she' actually exists, and the latter will represent the last time I draw breath (if not sooner). Ashley – God bless her sweet soul and kind heart – may have been the catalyst for a good portion of the way I think, and nothing good has come from it. As I said before, I do not blame that living doll, I only speak as such due to the way my life has unfolded during the ensuing years. I honestly did not believe that such a mindset existed and that I would be fruitlessly seeking something seemingly unbalanced due to the past. Well, I was derailed in the best way, yet years later realized that I ran across an enigma that would never appear again. Ashley is gone, as are all of the others who treated me in a similar manner. Vanessa Ferlito is in this episode and I can’t remember if she appears in another. I’ve always liked her in roles requiring an accent from New England because she kills it every time. The last time I saw her prior to this very moment was a movie from many years ago in which she had a slight accent and spoke some fantastic and stirring dialog. The woman is talented beyond belief, even if she’s always been typecast. I don’t care about the casting. Vanessa fills a spot that is very necessary for certain stories and the recreation of a very unique atmosphere. And yes... Before your head goes in such a direction, I’d love to kiss her for days on end because her lips are very beautiful. Arrest me for such thinking. Shoot me in the face; crucify me... I don’t give a shit. She is fucking gorgeous. I brought up talent first, shitbrains. Talent always supersedes beauty. You may not believe me due to how I view beauty and what it has done to me after the shit situations, but I speak the truth. Don’t even fucking get me started with Steve Buscemi... Actor, writer, director, producer, and a man with talent beyond comprehension. I fucking love him and have for decades. I may sit here all fucking day. My feelings don’t matter, so perhaps my behavior will make a difference. Perhaps not. As of this moment, the devices are holding me up. This is good, because the alternative is to allow the ice vane to keep me immobilized for the duration. As much as I have to resist the power of this latest vane, part of me is ready to give up entirely. Everything has been tiring me out for so long that I can barely recall the beginning. I had calculated that my needs changed after the beginning of the pandemic – roughly the time when I ceased full-time work – yet I believe this shit goes back much further. The Midwest is an isolated period in my head, separate from any other times when I embraced the media in order to find comfort, but the others, like prior to the trailer era and then 1236, stand as examples of me learning that though I gave up dreams in order to be secure, there were times when all of my efforts seemed worthwhile. I believe adding everything together from late zero-one to now can paint a picture of my overwhelming dependence upon the devices keeping me alive. The Midwest was powerful, too. After considering everything here, I believe my time spent in Livermore just prior to moving across the country was the start of yours truly needing very specific kinds of comforts in order to feel secure. The upside is my innate ability to find such things no matter what kind of changes in my living condition take place. The downside is that I’ve become frozen and unable to function without those little comforts. The bottom line is that I am the same now as I was thirty years ago when I arrived home from work in the middle of the night, heated some dinner, and then cozied into bed to watch my shows which were recorded on videotape a few hours earlier. Here I sit, no different. Just older and further from what I really need. Wednesday. I suppose the furnace work has been either put off or canceled because I’ve not heard a peep in days. Well, I don’t care. I am going to head over to the big box store within the hour to stock up on some items. Yesterday I fell on my face so hard that I was incapable of anything productive or otherwise helpful. This morning has been a touch better, so I’d like to get the shopping out of the way before disaster strikes again. It will, and soon. I need to get over there and back quickly. At some point, I will fall apart again. Doctrine. Yesterday was horrible, mellowed out a bit after lunch, and then went straight to hell prior to the close of business hours. I can’t have that shit today. Once in a while something comes along and illuminates the passage of time and I am literally powerless in throwing a save, like yesterday. It was horrible. Memories took me away, I was feeling very sad and lonely, and then a little push over the edge took place. I can’t outline that one, but suffice to say it was yet another reminder that everything good in life is behind me. I mentioned that I’ve been having trouble accepting as much. There is a part of me still fruitlessly searching for something with the power to lift me once and for all, but if you think about the way I worded that one, you’ll see that it means I am sitting here waiting. The search is passive, if you will. That means I’m wishing that everything will be ok via ‘her’ coming to me, or conversely, me spotting ‘her’ in society, somewhere. Do you see more than one fucking problem here? Will Shilo come through the gates of Starlite Hills and rescue me? Fuck no. Do I still dream that she will? Yep. Everything came to a head yesterday – with one huge demonstration of how different I am now versus years ago – and I nearly lost it for all time. The little devices managed to hold me together just long enough for another distraction to come along and take over the job. Splendid. The point is I need to be vigilant today rather than a fucking doormat... A slave to the circumstances. My devices are going to have to help me upon returning from the store. Well, I indeed went shopping at the big store and came out the other side almost fine. Naturally, and due to my obsession with certain types of form, I saw problems over there. Two, to be exact; one Asian and the other not. The Asian girl was fucking slender and fairly tall despite her apparent heritage. My instinct told me that she was Chinese due to the prevalence of that nationality on the other side of the hill. Whatever the case, I could not believe my fucking eyes, as usual. She struck me and I moved on, never to see her again during my stroll through the store. The other one was fucking gorgeous, likely into her forties, and probably had no idea of how she appeared to other people. I saw her twice and made a beeline away to continue following my list. From there, everything was fine. They faded by the time I reached my car again. I will say that despite the mass of people pouring into the store when I arrived, the checkout process was fast and smooth. The only difficulty was the weather. The forecast was for ‘scattered’ showers, but the reality was very heavy rain and wind on the drive home. Had I known there would be streams and rivers flowing across the highways, I would have opted to take surface streets home. The route is slower but much safer. I don’t trust others on the road. Some don’t alter their driving habits during inclement weather and it scares me. I arrived, organized everything and immediately took care of the daily routine. Now I can reap the reward: No place to go and a nice cocktail here on the table. Thank the maker for this little house some days. The impact of black leggings wrapped around an amazing form often takes a back seat to what I feel when I reach home after a difficult journey. I guess that’s a positive. Better than nothing. Now I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. I have to stop thinking about two specific women, otherwise I will not survive for much longer. I’ve spoken of both here, although what I’ve written is very ambiguous. The holes inside me were at issue during both relationships and I experienced some of the most caring behavior and conversation of my entire life at the time. All of it is gone and the pain takes over too often. I need to find a way to remove those two angels from my brain, even for short periods each day. Distractions? Maybe. At this point in my life, finding anything that can cause me to forget all of the bad is not fucking easy. Most of the time I only succeed partially, later realizing that I am mostly powerless in shoving the memories aside. I have engaged in questionable behavior lately and can’t help but compare it to my hijinks in the past (fairly long past now, for sure). There is no fucking way I can describe any of it here in detail, though. I’d be hanged in the town square. Just know that I am aware of the things that have come to mind lately as a result of my continually diminishing mental and emotional state. What seemed completely out of the question some years ago is now acceptable from a standpoint of survival, and the catalyst for all this shit is my inability to secure enough resources to fly the coop and find some excellent, artificial comfort within the most stirring illusion in the world. I just can’t fucking do anything right now. I am not happy with myself, either. This is nothing horrible, only another reason for me to question everything. I don't even know why I brought the topic here. Maybe I spend too much time dwelling on how I might appear to other people if they knew. Ugh. Whatever. Two of the three women singing at a Jewish wedding in this episode are fucking stunning and I want to tell them as much. Isn’t that fucking peachy? The Asian leggings are fading but still apparent. I am so weak. Matter of time. By the way, despite the fact that the images of Jamie within this entry, if a possibility for understanding were to come along, I would not make comparisons. I do not know her. I do not know what may happen. I just need the fucking possibility. Jamie is behind everything, but not so powerful that I would reject a real person. After all these years of me gushing my heart out over Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes, one might believe that my head would not be open to anything. The opposite is true, even if the odds are in the fucking exosphere. The next day has come. Here it is. Today. Yesterday is gone. What does this mean? Aside from no traveling requirement, nothing. I received notice that the furnace job will probably be next week. That is fine. Today I would like to spend an extended morning on this machine to gather my thoughts. Coffee, my friends over there on the right-hand display (occasionally), and the keyboard are all I need for a long while. Once the morning business is out of the way, I’m going to attach myself to this chair and enjoy the fact that I need not leave the house. Never mind the images of Jamie. They are all gone now. Later... And now the house is peaceful and quiet for the bulk of the day. I need the time, especially now. After the shit over the weekend and being struck upside the head thrice, my brain requires a lot of time to balance itself as much as possible, or at least enough to function from one day to the next. I am right in the middle of a very bad time, as some of the statements above can attest. The terrible incident from a few days ago represents something that may continue to affect me for the rest of my life, and, if so, I must either learn to live with it or seek something that can actually make me forget the situation entirely. I don’t even know if such a solution exists, though. Drugs? Yeah, they can alter almost any consciousness and morph it into something else, but the user may end up permanently fucked. The slim chance of something along those lines – chemicals, and not alcohol – is not worth the almost guaranteed downside. Anything with the power and/or ability to help me cannot be categorized as such because of two reasons. First, there must be an emotional component present in order to help my heart, and second, I am still completely frozen due to the first two vanes and my inability to find additional reasons for giving a shit about life anymore. I can’t get that fucking morning out of my head, I can’t speak to anyone about what happened, and I have nothing in my life powerful enough to actually help me forget for a while. The options are all worthless. I must think about everything and try to be patient. Today’s quiet may be helpful. ‘Got yourself a gun.’ Oh, Jamie. Just hold me... Please. Every time I see something about Vegas on the news, I recall my last couple of trips to that gigantic machine and the fact that I ran there without knowing what I might find. I had no idea that Ellie or Jana or anyone else might be holding me for a while, though I needed it so badly. I felt almost as desperate as I do right now, believe it or not. I thought I was in bad shape during that period, but little did I know that all of the importance in life would soon shut down, be ripped away, or otherwise squished without remorse. The cave period was not as bad, honestly, though I felt that any day the end of the world would come along and swallow me whole. Nope. If I could go back and live through a few months out of that year I’d take it in a cold minute. I really would. There were aspects of being in that place – some internal and one external – which helped me more than I thought at the time, much like my waning devices around this house. Early eleven was when I headed to Florida to visit my family and then turned on a dime, met Andrea in Pensacola, and ran away for a few weeks at great expense. I met Ellie shortly after falling on my face at Andrea’s departure (I can still hear her booties on the marble floor, much like remembering the goddess and our many trips all over the Bay Area). I took three trips to the goblet between January and April, each one holding its own measure of comfort, the likes of which seem nonexistent in the world anymore. I keep going back to that time and then I sit here and marvel at how different I am right now. The kept vane did not exist. I was in the wind all the fucking time. Slashed? Oh, yes... I had been slashed to pieces by that fucking vane, over and over for many months, yet somehow the time spent in that place still cannot compare to the present. Perhaps the pieces are smaller and too many are missing. Now I am frozen. Different. Frightened. No one is going to be there. No one. If I run to some exotic place or dash to the goblet, my feelings will not change. I will be exactly the same – possibly worse – and there will be no one else; no one will be waiting to hold me. Everyone is as gone as my ambition. Vegas reminders still have the power to make me smile, yet most of the time all I feel is pain. What I have here on this fucking table is all I will ever have. Not a person or people; no machine; no ‘her’. Only ‘stuff’. I don’t know if I should watch the big game on Sunday. It will be played in Vegas, meaning the hype and references, imagery and stories are going to be abundant. The result could be far worse than what happened the other morning. Those trips – in the end – may have been my whole life... A representation of ‘me’ through questionable means, a combination of loneliness, desperately trying to understand, and needing to be understood. I don’t know anymore because so much time has passed that I’ve become completely frozen. I need to find a way of removing that girl from my head. Time will help, I’m sure, but right now I keep seeing that little gesture over and over and it’s killing me. She conveyed so much of her personality through that motion... It told me things that I’m certain are not real, yet I can’t stop considering possibilities. Did I mention how ridiculous all this shit has become? A girl in the produce department looking at me is completely meaningless, however my brain and the way it has been operating for years will not disallow me feeling so desperate that it manufactures scenarios out of thin fucking air, much like that woman on the side of the road more than three years ago. Was she looking for me? Of course not. Did the girl in the market look at me that way because she wants to save my life? Of course not. Is there a person out there waiting to help me? No fucking way. Everything becomes amplified inside me out of sheer desperation and an inability to deal with reality as it has developed over the years. I am so pathetic that I can’t believe it sometimes. The shit never stops, though, no matter how fucking stupid I come across. She will fade with time, my mood will mellow some, but the whole fucking shootin’ match will happen again. I’m certain of it. The person I am on the inside is far too full of need for external events to not affect me so deeply. Go back to Shilo again, and remember that I was between six and nine when I imagined her out of sheer desperation. On the inside, I am likely the same age right now as I was then. One more time... Pathetic. Well, not all is horrible. At least I know what I am. Frozen. The vanes are taking me from myself. The simplest tasks now seem insurmountable as opposed to months ago. Each strike forces the ice vane to smack me upside the head and I grow colder with every passing day. Slashing was bad enough. I don’t need this shit, nor do I know what to do. This was a matter of time, much like everything else having come to pass in recent years. A matter of time. The past returns, slashes me to ribbons, and then I feel helpless; frozen in time. In mind? Perhaps. Something is coming."
February 8th, 2024 9:43am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
The Ice Vane
read ( words)
"I've been frozen for nearly four years, possibly longer. ‘You have many fine qualities. You are big and strong...’ Thanks, princess. My condition is worse with each published entry. Maybe if I begin clipping them from the top down I’ll head in the opposite direction. Nope. Not funny. Nothing is funny. I don’t even know why that popped into my fucking head. The goddess’ face from this morning and her subsequent change in expression are still looming large over everything else in the world. I don’t know how I went from a strong, independent and productive member of society to this pathetic, little, weakened, desperate and frozen ‘thing’ that defies description, however this is where I have arrived regardless of any questions. I just have to sit here and lump it. Svetlana’s observation from above is not something I’d like to deal with right now because it hits too close to the keywords, but the line keeps spinning circles around my brain. Eh... It will fade soon enough (but there will be another). There is no shortage of disparagement in the media these days. Always something. Always. Believe it or not, I am tempted to describe the massive chasm of thoughts and feelings that went through my head during those few seconds, both new and as related to past connections. Her expression did it all. Recall what I said about a strong wind... This is likely the weakest I’ve ever felt. More thinking is on tap before I dive into the storm that developed inside my brain this morning. Did I want her to care for me? Hold me? Make all the bad go away? Yes... Most definitely. At the same time, I felt the dire need to care for her, to lavish her with loving affection and attention so that she would realize how important she is to me. Pathetic. I am having visions of running away and demonstrating just how much I appreciate her unique beauty. Eh... Maybe the full weight of what I’ve been feeling for the last four hours is too much. I would have frozen completely given the opportunity to speak to her at all. Frozen. This vane is showing me all sorts of fucking problems. I can’t believe the way I think these days. This is fucking ridiculous. I am weak and powerless; desperate and needy. I have never felt so far from the past. God fucking damn it... She was so adorable that the feelings are continuing to grow. I am absolutely pathetic. Monday. I dreamed about her arms wrapped around me. I was so happy. And then? She was ripped away. I don’t want to dream about her anymore. My mornings are tough enough already without adding love on top of everything else. Yes, I said love. I am not well by any stretch of the word. Her facial expression now combined with a situation in which we were together and isolated from others (we disappeared) adds up to needing her more than I did just a day ago. Need. Badly. I am desperate, but not enough to head over to the market in the off chance that I will see her. The main reason is that I already know the outcome. Nothing can ever come of this. Nothing. I may see her beautiful face again, my heart will explode into a million pieces, and then I’ll return home worse off and frozen in time yet again. There is not one fucking thing I can do about any of my feelings. I just have to sit here and absorb it all. I usually enjoy Monday mornings. This one is fraught with sadness and the knowledge that I lost that girl before ever speaking a word. I was never with her, yet I still lost everything. This is going to be one fucking tough uphill climb today. I really didn’t need that dream. Everything has gone steadily downhill throughout these last few years. There have been positives here and there – some of which I hesitate to describe here, unfortunately – but for the most part, my head and heart have suffered even more than my physical condition. Moreover, the latter has been affected and worsened due to being so depressed and empty for so long. I don’t see a way out of this because the more time that passes, the more desperate I become regarding comfort and understanding, both of which are now so damned skewed and specific that the likelihood of even a sliver of either has dropped to an all-time low. My reaction in the market yesterday was a good example of just how fucked up I’ve become. Add the dream to my already crazy feelings, and one can see that the slide from on high is much worse than I’ve described here. My brain simply will not give up at all. There is more, as well, however I believe very bad situations could develop if the information were to come to light. The best way for me to protect myself is to remain silent, closed off, and alone. I’ve stated many times that this condition is a circle, but the truth is more like a spiral because with each completed trip around, I am lower than at the beginning. The fact that I still can’t get the striking feelings or her face out of my head twenty four hours later is a prime example of the spiral. One little glimpse and I am wrecked. The power was out yesterday for more than three hours from mid-afternoon to the evening. I made a salad by candlelight while simultaneously trying to tether my phone to the laptop so I could have some video media keeping me company. I never made it work and ended up spending time in the garage (completely dark) while watching the insane weather pass us by. That’s the first time I could not get the streaming media to work at all. The situation was rather funny considering my deep-seated need to have my friends in the background. I’m sure the picture of me speaking out loud to the cats, phone and computer while chopping vegetables was humorous to see. Even I was laughing out loud. After realizing that the cellular connection would not carry enough bandwidth for video, I opted for a bit of music – over a pair of tiny speakers. That’s not my thing, but it was an emergency contingency and pretty much my only option. At least I made dinner without issue. Something very special and unexpected took place prior to the power returning. I still can’t believe it. The damaging dreams returned and expanded inside my head and I nearly lost my shit for a few minutes. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. The imagery and possibilities that developed inside my brain at light speed overtook my ability to make pleasant conversation, shortly thereafter driving me back into the house in an attempt to let go of my feelings. Trust me... They are more powerful than almost anything else in the world. Later, a remark meant to be funny injected more images into my head and I had to give up and go to sleep. The damaging dreams and reminders of other stirring situations may have combined with the goddess from yesterday and manufactured that fucking dream. The more I point out that I don’t need any more shit inside me, the more it seems to happen. I witnessed more sheer, natural beauty yesterday than I have in months. My levels of desperation and weakness have very likely destroyed any possibility of me rising at all, ever. I am having more difficulty dealing with what I’ve seen than ever before in my life. The smile and that little gesture skyrocketed her face and demeanor to the top of the fucking list, something I can never reconcile. This is so fucking bad that I can’t even scratch the surface. One of these days, I am going to kill myself and put an end to all this shit once and for all. I don’t know when, but make no fucking mistake. The need is ruining everything else. Not only the beautiful love of my life, Jamie, in this episode, but Aleksa Palladino as well. Splendid. Goo-ga to the nth degree. The weather is still very unsettled, although we are not being slapped around by the wind as much. I think this will be the norm for the next day or two, rain on and off. That’s fine because I can remain indoors for the duration. I’ll get to the housework when my coffee is gone. Maybe watching the third series while working will help me rise enough to finish all my stuff without further issues. I wish I had a switch to turn off desire and memory. Or maybe something with the power to make me forget everything I’ve ever lived. Clean slate, and all that shit. Anyway, all beauty and desire aside, my chores await. I’ll have the media on all three televisions in order to immerse myself in that universe and try to let everything go for a little while. Will I be successful? Probably not.
While the background entertainment failed to dislodge all those dreams and visions, the weather most certainly did not. I awaited a break in the rain to move the garbage cans up my driveway because there was so much water that the cans created a dam. On the other side of the street, the water flow topped the sidewalk and I watched two recycle bins play demolition derby all the way down to the corner where they finally settled at the storm drain. Wow. My backyard is completely fucked right now. The heavy rain has been on and off for the last few hours. I can’t do fuck all about it until everything recedes, unfortunately. I swear, this is the last season that the rain gutters in the back overflow and drain beyond my control. I am going to build an extra downspout on the west end and direct most of the water to the side yard, after which it can flow between the houses and to the front. I should have done the job prior to fall last year, but there always seems to be plenty of time for such repairs. I guess the time got away from me, like always. I have most everything finished already and a nice, cold glass of depressive liquid here on the table. As long as the winds remain calm, there should not be a power issue today. I need my devices in place or I’ll fall off a cliff. Jamie’s huge eyes are killing me right now. At least what I feel for her character is love rather than physical desire. That’s a small plus in a sea of minuses. Clambake. I always end up seeing something that ruins my day, no matter what I may be doing. If there is nothing to see, the memories creep in and I become too powerless to rise. This is just fucking marvelous. Oh God, she is so beautiful that I can’t even understand the sight. I’ve been in love with Jamie for so many years... What a maroon. I am defeated beyond words. Maybe those dreams in which we were actually together did the trick. I don’t know. This is a bigger problem than a few years ago. Obsession is unhealthy, but I just can’t help it. Jamie is frozen in time to me, as are the five series’ and their principle characters. They are all just as frozen as I am. Everything is iced over. This vane is very unpleasant. My brain traveled back to my very short time with Ashley as I was cleaning the kitchen. It then shot forward to a conversation between myself and the Raven while relaxing at one of our favorite meeting places (a restaurant/bar, naturally). The Raven effectively reinforced Ashley’s viewpoint and fucking floored me when I inquired as to her feelings on the topic of desire. Whenever I daydream of being with Ashley – and that includes all of the discussions with Melanie and Ashley together – any plan or idea I may have for working around the house ends up frozen solid and I can barely move. She altered the way I consider certain situations, needs and dreams. The ideas are permanent and continue to germinate inside me as if there may be chances of the same in the future. Well, I don’t see it after all these years, and the knowledge is fucking paralyzing me a little at a time (hence my almost daily references to the final solution). I hear Ashley’s words over and over, repeating in my brain as if she is next to me reiterating her wondrous views. That was twenty fucking years ago and may well have begun a significant alteration to the way I think in general, and my feelings toward physical love in particular. It may also have ruined me for all time. Whatever the case, more and more I am hearing her speak all over again and imagining her sweet, sweet eyes looking into mine during the occasions. One was in her apartment, another took place while we lounged in my spa room at the Luxor. I wish I had known at the time that there would be only a single conversation later in life that came close to what she told me. Perhaps I would have broken my promise to Ashley and never left that town. Much could have been avoided, most importantly the way my life has been going for the last several years. That’s a fucking mouthful. I still miss her so badly that sometimes I can’t do anything but stand in the dining room and stare at everything. Motionless. Helpless. Broken. The obsession took off with force some time ago, merged with Ashley’s thoughts as related to the first shit situation, and eventually left me in a place sans escape and full of misery. I can’t even fully describe how fucking bad I feel right now. Maybe I’ll end up saying the same shit until death. ‘Muthafuckin’ God damned orange peel beef.’ – Tony is pissed off about their food delivery being incorrect. It’s funny. That’s why Gandolfini gets his OWN mountain. Do I need to include Alan’s quote again? I think I do...
"...in the years since The Sopranos ended, there's almost been this TV-actor Mount Rushmore. Bryan Cranston [Breaking Bad] is on there, and Jon Hamm [Mad Men] is on there, and Elisabeth Moss [Mad Men, The Handmaid's Tale] or Claire Danes [Homeland] or somebody else is on there. But James Gandolfini gets his own mountain. With all due respect to everybody else, including Edie Falco [who played Tony Soprano's wife, Carmela], Gandolfini is the best dramatic actor in TV history, and I don't know that anybody else is particularly close." -- TV critic Alan Sepinwall on Gandolfini's performance as Tony Soprano.
I'm having a hard time accepting that everything is behind me. Happiness, fulfillment, understanding and other aspects of life along similar lines – meaning those parts of living that give us reason to continue – seem so far away now, and that in spite of the fact that I had been in a good place not that long ago. Well, that was fucked up, too, due to my uncertainty in life and a shitload of fear. Sweatshirt; sweatpants. Baggy, oversized, droopy. Inside, however, was more magic than I can recall seeing in a very long time. No, the Latino goddess at the market did not garner such thoughts despite being slender. I did not look upon her in such a fashion; my feelings were deeper and far more dangerous. The sweats? That type of thing was not good for me, either, yet nearly impossible at this juncture, and in two ways... I cannot get there no matter the circumstances (or at least the difficulty would be overwhelming), and I am far worse of mind and body than a few years ago. Life will not allow such things any longer. A while ago I mentioned that there is no way for anything to be kept from my senses. I always know what is going on, and any attempts at deception will always fall flat no matter the effort. The baggy nature of some clothing makes no difference whatsoever. As an example, I brought up that horrible day when the Raven and I took a rail trip down the peninsula. Everything went to shit very quickly sometime after lunch, yet the magic came along prior to us ever boarding the train. I gently asked that She stand still for a moment – facing me, of course – with Her booties together. Well, that melted my brain away and I proceeded to tell the Raven how I felt about such things without gushing too much. She really did not like a ton of platitudes about Her physical beauty due to past incidents and the way Her family had regarding such things. Now go a step further and imagine that same form – five-seven and not far over one hundred ten pounds – wearing overalls. You’ve seen them before; a tiny frame swimming in oversized clothing. Well, that’s what I saw. I already had the knowledge, as well. I knew everything, meaning the baggy, droopy sweats did not in any way dissuade my brain from traveling all the way from her toes to the top of her pretty head over and over, aware of her shape the entire time. Baggy does not matter when the information is already secure. It doesn’t make any difference these days. Moreover, the difficulty in thinking clearly becomes exacerbated when those rare, wonderful little occasions come along, always unexpected. My heart leaps. My brain melts. My future darkens. My drinking rate increases. My life becomes unimportant. My hands shake. I saw too much, too soon, and now can’t rip the imagery from my head long enough to function like a real grown-up type of person. Once fallen, always fallen. There is no going back. The little reminder about the Raven and the way I worshiped Her fucking form harks back to the actual period of time when I was closest to pulling the trigger. I am heading in such a direction now because there is very little left in the world for me. I’ll keep seeing and becoming sad, the downtrodden nature of such events will turn to anger soon enough, and then I’ll sit here and try to get the fucking point across, but to no avail. My words can’t even begin to touch upon what I feel when I see those sweatpants. Not even fucking close. There it is. Sometimes there is no avoiding such thinking. I don't een know why I brought it up.
Yesterday was very difficult, yet rather wondrous at the same time. I can’t be terribly clear on this shit. I truly wish I could spell it out here, but the consequences would be horrible and likely an end to me being able to relax in the morning with my thoughts and coffee. Everything would be upended, and I really don’t need that. I am referring to a five-second period of warmth followed by the rest of my life all fucked up. Eh... To hell with this crap. I don’t know if I want to go to the big-box store this morning or not. Leaving the house is never easy, yet returning is very comforting. I am on the last cup of coffee and will decide when it is gone. I am very sad this morning – not due to any new dreams, though – and don’t know if going outside is going to help or hurt. I’ve been exposed to masses of beauty thrice in two days and really don’t need any more of that shit right now. I have a head full at this very moment. And yes, I am still referring to the goddess that smiled at me. I can’t get her image out of my brain. Walking through the produce department was alright, but yesterday? I froze. Or rather, I was frozen by external forces and left to thaw after all was said and done. I need to speak with someone, God damn it, but I don’t know if I am actually capable of starting the process and coming out the other side ok. Heading into that type of therapy is a long-term project, and the beginning of the learning process can be very slow and unnerving, especially considering the sheer number of facets to this fucking condition. Thinking about the Latino goddess, the events from last night (don’t ask), and the idea of me finally being alone in the most comfortable place I have left in the world is not faring well for a defrost and trip over the hill. I may end up frozen to this chair. The cold vane cannot be denied and will not be ignored. So sad. Everything hurts right now. I need ‘her’ to hold me and make everything ok. I would have to control the situation completely. That’s just not going to happen in this life, unfortunately, yet it is absolutely necessary due to the shit situations and the way my mind has developed, risen, and subsequently fallen throughout the years since the failing fantasy. Still, and regardless of the likelihood of anything similar coming to pass, the necessity is real. Control is similar to needing a machine. One is unhealthy, while the other seems more suited to completely avoiding any difficulty, hurt feelings or any other type of disparagement. I have no wish to cause harm to anyone, ever. There is no way in hell I would be in a position to exercise my feelings, however. I already know that the future is nothing more than an extension of what has already transpired for many years. Very sad, this shit. I just keep typing. ‘Put the other one back on.’ I am not going to the big store today. No way. And the furnace job has not been brought up since last week, meaning there is a strong possibility that it’s been put off again. I don’t care. I need to be alone and holed up in this little house. I still have a bit of coffee left. Afterward, the usual. There is little else I can do anymore. Later. The daily shit is out of the way and I have a nice cocktail next to me. Unfortunately, something terrible and very unexpected took place a little while ago and I can’t get it out of my head. Whatever happened two years ago is again rearing its head and testing my willingness to go on living despite the change. I almost can’t deal with this shit anymore. Prior to kicking off my routine and pouring the drink, I stood helpless in the hallway and tried to decide if anything I do in life is worthwhile anymore. Oh, I often speak of ‘earning’ the relaxation in the evening after taking care of business each day, but this is far worse and more painful than anything in recent memory. I have no idea of what to do now aside from sitting here and typing. My feelings are still veiled, though. That’s a positive. Only I know what has been happening today. The more I think about this incident, the worse it becomes. Suffice to say, I will not be leaving the house at all. There are two individuals in the world who can help me. Two. That’s it. Neither are available. I considered stating a third, although the odds of that person helping me right now are akin to winning the fucking lottery. This is literally the worst I have ever felt in my entire life, and that is not an overstatement. The dim period when I lived in the cave seems like paradise right now... Right fucking now... Nothing can be held against the power of this latest blow to my head. And as usual, there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. No respite. I just have to sit here and take it. I wish that goddess had been different. I wish something could have actually been there. Her expression informed me of much, and days later I still feel it inside just as I did when the race girl aimed her cat eyes at mine for several seconds. Everything... From the past to the dreams to reality; depression and alcoholism; sadness and gaping holes inside me... Everything is related and killing me. Maybe someone will tell me to back off on the booze consumption. I would love to explain it to them. Eh... Never mind. Finding reasons to lash out in whatever direction is easier than that. In fact, the occurrence would be nothing more than a random act. I don’t even need reasons to pull out the knives anymore. I am fallen, and consequences no longer make a lick of difference in this cold reality. Frozen? Yes, that too. Perhaps the ice vane will sharpen itself and lop off my miserable head once and for all. I can’t fight the vanes. This is the third vane dictating my path. What the fuck could be next? I’ve been sitting here for a short time as of right now, and the cats were all cozy and sleeping in an adorable pile on the loveseat in the living room. The house is very quiet and peaceful, just the way the cats and I like it. Well, a few minutes ago I saw a reflection in my neighbor’s truck telling me that two people were walking up the driveway. Shit. They were none other than the squareheads who visited just last Saturday. Knock-knock, and the cats awakened as I rose and moved out of the office. I do not want to see followers of religion right now because my frame of mind would dictate being very unpleasant, and those women do not deserve such shit. I waited. She knocked more forcefully and the cats became frightened and scampered to the bedroom. I hate when they are scared and run away. I don’t like to see them so uncomfortable – the cats are more dear to me than almost every human being in the world. I believe the time has come to install a small doorbell button that addresses me while here in the office. I will then have a sign made that informs anyone on the porch that they are NOT to knock at all, ever. They should just push the button. My neighbors already know to contact me via message if I am needed for anything. The squareheads will be informed very soon. They usually only visit on Saturdays, but unfortunately the last time they were here I did my best to avoid being unkind and told them another visit would be acceptable. I think the next opportunity I have to speak with them, I’m going to gently slam the fucking door. I can’t have my train of thought disrupted in such a fashion. That is that. The incident from earlier is going to ring inside my head like Satan’s fucking doorbell for a long time. If the slight change from two years ago turns out to be a permanent situation, my reaction is going to push people away because my mood will steadily worsen without end. I can’t help it. This will mark the second occasion in which something was ripped from inside me, never to return. The first was bad enough, yet this day squashes the earlier shit like an ant under the weight of the moon striking the earth. Sometimes I mention that I ‘hate everything’. This is one of those times. All of my devices summed cannot hold a candle to the changes in my life. This is a matter of time. I need 'her' to make everything ok. Do you know who 'she' is? Neither do I. One day I will learn the truth of whether or not 'she' actually exists, and the latter will represent the last time I draw breath (if not sooner).
Ashley – God bless her sweet soul and kind heart – may have been the catalyst for a good portion of the way I think, and nothing good has come from it. As I said before, I do not blame that living doll, I only speak as such due to the way my life has unfolded during the ensuing years. I honestly did not believe that such a mindset existed and that I would be fruitlessly seeking something seemingly unbalanced due to the past. Well, I was derailed in the best way, yet years later realized that I ran across an enigma that would never appear again. Ashley is gone, as are all of the others who treated me in a similar manner. Vanessa Ferlito is in this episode and I can’t remember if she appears in another. I’ve always liked her in roles requiring an accent from New England because she kills it every time. The last time I saw her prior to this very moment was a movie from many years ago in which she had a slight accent and spoke some fantastic and stirring dialog. The woman is talented beyond belief, even if she’s always been typecast. I don’t care about the casting. Vanessa fills a spot that is very necessary for certain stories and the recreation of a very unique atmosphere. And yes... Before your head goes in such a direction, I’d love to kiss her for days on end because her lips are very beautiful. Arrest me for such thinking. Shoot me in the face; crucify me... I don’t give a shit. She is fucking gorgeous. I brought up talent first, shitbrains. Talent always supersedes beauty. You may not believe me due to how I view beauty and what it has done to me after the shit situations, but I speak the truth. Don’t even fucking get me started with Steve Buscemi... Actor, writer, director, producer, and a man with talent beyond comprehension. I fucking love him and have for decades. I may sit here all fucking day. My feelings don’t matter, so perhaps my behavior will make a difference. Perhaps not. As of this moment, the devices are holding me up. This is good, because the alternative is to allow the ice vane to keep me immobilized for the duration. As much as I have to resist the power of this latest vane, part of me is ready to give up entirely. Everything has been tiring me out for so long that I can barely recall the beginning. I had calculated that my needs changed after the beginning of the pandemic – roughly the time when I ceased full-time work – yet I believe this shit goes back much further. The Midwest is an isolated period in my head, separate from any other times when I embraced the media in order to find comfort, but the others, like prior to the trailer era and then 1236, stand as examples of me learning that though I gave up dreams in order to be secure, there were times when all of my efforts seemed worthwhile. I believe adding everything together from late zero-one to now can paint a picture of my overwhelming dependence upon the devices keeping me alive. The Midwest was powerful, too. After considering everything here, I believe my time spent in Livermore just prior to moving across the country was the start of yours truly needing very specific kinds of comforts in order to feel secure. The upside is my innate ability to find such things no matter what kind of changes in my living condition take place. The downside is that I’ve become frozen and unable to function without those little comforts. The bottom line is that I am the same now as I was thirty years ago when I arrived home from work in the middle of the night, heated some dinner, and then cozied into bed to watch my shows which were recorded on videotape a few hours earlier. Here I sit, no different. Just older and further from what I really need. Wednesday. I suppose the furnace work has been either put off or canceled because I’ve not heard a peep in days. Well, I don’t care. I am going to head over to the big box store within the hour to stock up on some items. Yesterday I fell on my face so hard that I was incapable of anything productive or otherwise helpful. This morning has been a touch better, so I’d like to get the shopping out of the way before disaster strikes again. It will, and soon. I need to get over there and back quickly. At some point, I will fall apart again. Doctrine. Yesterday was horrible, mellowed out a bit after lunch, and then went straight to hell prior to the close of business hours. I can’t have that shit today. Once in a while something comes along and illuminates the passage of time and I am literally powerless in throwing a save, like yesterday. It was horrible. Memories took me away, I was feeling very sad and lonely, and then a little push over the edge took place. I can’t outline that one, but suffice to say it was yet another reminder that everything good in life is behind me. I mentioned that I’ve been having trouble accepting as much. There is a part of me still fruitlessly searching for something with the power to lift me once and for all, but if you think about the way I worded that one, you’ll see that it means I am sitting here waiting. The search is passive, if you will. That means I’m wishing that everything will be ok via ‘her’ coming to me, or conversely, me spotting ‘her’ in society, somewhere. Do you see more than one fucking problem here? Will Shilo come through the gates of Starlite Hills and rescue me? Fuck no. Do I still dream that she will? Yep. Everything came to a head yesterday – with one huge demonstration of how different I am now versus years ago – and I nearly lost it for all time. The little devices managed to hold me together just long enough for another distraction to come along and take over the job. Splendid. The point is I need to be vigilant today rather than a fucking doormat... A slave to the circumstances. My devices are going to have to help me upon returning from the store. Well, I indeed went shopping at the big store and came out the other side almost fine. Naturally, and due to my obsession with certain types of form, I saw problems over there. Two, to be exact; one Asian and the other not. The Asian girl was fucking slender and fairly tall despite her apparent heritage. My instinct told me that she was Chinese due to the prevalence of that nationality on the other side of the hill. Whatever the case, I could not believe my fucking eyes, as usual. She struck me and I moved on, never to see her again during my stroll through the store. The other one was fucking gorgeous, likely into her forties, and probably had no idea of how she appeared to other people. I saw her twice and made a beeline away to continue following my list. From there, everything was fine. They faded by the time I reached my car again. I will say that despite the mass of people pouring into the store when I arrived, the checkout process was fast and smooth. The only difficulty was the weather. The forecast was for ‘scattered’ showers, but the reality was very heavy rain and wind on the drive home. Had I known there would be streams and rivers flowing across the highways, I would have opted to take surface streets home. The route is slower but much safer. I don’t trust others on the road. Some don’t alter their driving habits during inclement weather and it scares me. I arrived, organized everything and immediately took care of the daily routine. Now I can reap the reward: No place to go and a nice cocktail here on the table. Thank the maker for this little house some days. The impact of black leggings wrapped around an amazing form often takes a back seat to what I feel when I reach home after a difficult journey. I guess that’s a positive. Better than nothing. Now I have the rest of the day to do whatever seems best. I have to stop thinking about two specific women, otherwise I will not survive for much longer. I’ve spoken of both here, although what I’ve written is very ambiguous. The holes inside me were at issue during both relationships and I experienced some of the most caring behavior and conversation of my entire life at the time. All of it is gone and the pain takes over too often. I need to find a way to remove those two angels from my brain, even for short periods each day. Distractions? Maybe. At this point in my life, finding anything that can cause me to forget all of the bad is not fucking easy. Most of the time I only succeed partially, later realizing that I am mostly powerless in shoving the memories aside. I have engaged in questionable behavior lately and can’t help but compare it to my hijinks in the past (fairly long past now, for sure). There is no fucking way I can describe any of it here in detail, though. I’d be hanged in the town square. Just know that I am aware of the things that have come to mind lately as a result of my continually diminishing mental and emotional state. What seemed completely out of the question some years ago is now acceptable from a standpoint of survival, and the catalyst for all this shit is my inability to secure enough resources to fly the coop and find some excellent, artificial comfort within the most stirring illusion in the world. I just can’t fucking do anything right now. I am not happy with myself, either. This is nothing horrible, only another reason for me to question everything. I don't even know why I brought the topic here. Maybe I spend too much time dwelling on how I might appear to other people if they knew. Ugh. Whatever.
Two of the three women singing at a Jewish wedding in this episode are fucking stunning and I want to tell them as much. Isn’t that fucking peachy? The Asian leggings are fading but still apparent. I am so weak. Matter of time. By the way, despite the fact that the images of Jamie within this entry, if a possibility for understanding were to come along, I would not make comparisons. I do not know her. I do not know what may happen. I just need the fucking possibility. Jamie is behind everything, but not so powerful that I would reject a real person. After all these years of me gushing my heart out over Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes, one might believe that my head would not be open to anything. The opposite is true, even if the odds are in the fucking exosphere. The next day has come. Here it is. Today. Yesterday is gone. What does this mean? Aside from no traveling requirement, nothing. I received notice that the furnace job will probably be next week. That is fine. Today I would like to spend an extended morning on this machine to gather my thoughts. Coffee, my friends over there on the right-hand display (occasionally), and the keyboard are all I need for a long while. Once the morning business is out of the way, I’m going to attach myself to this chair and enjoy the fact that I need not leave the house. Never mind the images of Jamie. They are all gone now. Later... And now the house is peaceful and quiet for the bulk of the day. I need the time, especially now. After the shit over the weekend and being struck upside the head thrice, my brain requires a lot of time to balance itself as much as possible, or at least enough to function from one day to the next. I am right in the middle of a very bad time, as some of the statements above can attest. The terrible incident from a few days ago represents something that may continue to affect me for the rest of my life, and, if so, I must either learn to live with it or seek something that can actually make me forget the situation entirely. I don’t even know if such a solution exists, though. Drugs? Yeah, they can alter almost any consciousness and morph it into something else, but the user may end up permanently fucked. The slim chance of something along those lines – chemicals, and not alcohol – is not worth the almost guaranteed downside. Anything with the power and/or ability to help me cannot be categorized as such because of two reasons. First, there must be an emotional component present in order to help my heart, and second, I am still completely frozen due to the first two vanes and my inability to find additional reasons for giving a shit about life anymore. I can’t get that fucking morning out of my head, I can’t speak to anyone about what happened, and I have nothing in my life powerful enough to actually help me forget for a while. The options are all worthless. I must think about everything and try to be patient. Today’s quiet may be helpful. ‘Got yourself a gun.’ Oh, Jamie. Just hold me... Please. Every time I see something about Vegas on the news, I recall my last couple of trips to that gigantic machine and the fact that I ran there without knowing what I might find. I had no idea that Ellie or Jana or anyone else might be holding me for a while, though I needed it so badly. I felt almost as desperate as I do right now, believe it or not. I thought I was in bad shape during that period, but little did I know that all of the importance in life would soon shut down, be ripped away, or otherwise squished without remorse. The cave period was not as bad, honestly, though I felt that any day the end of the world would come along and swallow me whole. Nope. If I could go back and live through a few months out of that year I’d take it in a cold minute. I really would. There were aspects of being in that place – some internal and one external – which helped me more than I thought at the time, much like my waning devices around this house. Early eleven was when I headed to Florida to visit my family and then turned on a dime, met Andrea in Pensacola, and ran away for a few weeks at great expense. I met Ellie shortly after falling on my face at Andrea’s departure (I can still hear her booties on the marble floor, much like remembering the goddess and our many trips all over the Bay Area). I took three trips to the goblet between January and April, each one holding its own measure of comfort, the likes of which seem nonexistent in the world anymore. I keep going back to that time and then I sit here and marvel at how different I am right now. The kept vane did not exist. I was in the wind all the fucking time. Slashed? Oh, yes... I had been slashed to pieces by that fucking vane, over and over for many months, yet somehow the time spent in that place still cannot compare to the present. Perhaps the pieces are smaller and too many are missing. Now I am frozen. Different. Frightened. No one is going to be there. No one. If I run to some exotic place or dash to the goblet, my feelings will not change. I will be exactly the same – possibly worse – and there will be no one else; no one will be waiting to hold me. Everyone is as gone as my ambition. Vegas reminders still have the power to make me smile, yet most of the time all I feel is pain. What I have here on this fucking table is all I will ever have. Not a person or people; no machine; no ‘her’. Only ‘stuff’. I don’t know if I should watch the big game on Sunday. It will be played in Vegas, meaning the hype and references, imagery and stories are going to be abundant. The result could be far worse than what happened the other morning. Those trips – in the end – may have been my whole life... A representation of ‘me’ through questionable means, a combination of loneliness, desperately trying to understand, and needing to be understood. I don’t know anymore because so much time has passed that I’ve become completely frozen. I need to find a way of removing that girl from my head. Time will help, I’m sure, but right now I keep seeing that little gesture over and over and it’s killing me. She conveyed so much of her personality through that motion... It told me things that I’m certain are not real, yet I can’t stop considering possibilities. Did I mention how ridiculous all this shit has become? A girl in the produce department looking at me is completely meaningless, however my brain and the way it has been operating for years will not disallow me feeling so desperate that it manufactures scenarios out of thin fucking air, much like that woman on the side of the road more than three years ago. Was she looking for me? Of course not. Did the girl in the market look at me that way because she wants to save my life? Of course not. Is there a person out there waiting to help me? No fucking way. Everything becomes amplified inside me out of sheer desperation and an inability to deal with reality as it has developed over the years. I am so pathetic that I can’t believe it sometimes. The shit never stops, though, no matter how fucking stupid I come across. She will fade with time, my mood will mellow some, but the whole fucking shootin’ match will happen again. I’m certain of it. The person I am on the inside is far too full of need for external events to not affect me so deeply. Go back to Shilo again, and remember that I was between six and nine when I imagined her out of sheer desperation. On the inside, I am likely the same age right now as I was then. One more time... Pathetic. Well, not all is horrible. At least I know what I am. Frozen. The vanes are taking me from myself. The simplest tasks now seem insurmountable as opposed to months ago. Each strike forces the ice vane to smack me upside the head and I grow colder with every passing day. Slashing was bad enough. I don’t need this shit, nor do I know what to do. This was a matter of time, much like everything else having come to pass in recent years. A matter of time. The past returns, slashes me to ribbons, and then I feel helpless; frozen in time. In mind? Perhaps. Something is coming."
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