June 14th, 2021 9:37am pdt

Links have been removed from a few of the older essays.




Cambered

 read ( words)

"'Well, we suppose the bullets and bullshit were not enough, because now more will fly. Flew. Has flown. Will fly again very soon. They will, mark our words. Helmet? Eh... Don't worry about that. We are not here to threaten, for the threats are perpetual. The helmet cannot assist you anyway. Toss it away just as you did us.

6-10, still.

Toward the end of the previous entry we mentioned tossing shit into the trash. That is a definite now. Today. The anger building inside is doubtless going to simplify and streamline whatever we need to accomplish, and trash is always enjoyable. We also need to calculate a way for powering the Tiger sign without throwing money at the problem. A little time and that project will relent. No problem. In and around the usual daily shit, we intend to do a bit more. Nothing crazy, but enough to keep us from blowing up at another person. Oh, we'd love to attack, yet now is not the time. Realization, soon. Like production, the clock is in charge.

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

We knew. We know. Do not start any shit or you will regret it. The bullshit is perpetual, remember? We fucking know, so refrain. The slightest tip or yaw and we knew. Slightest. Don't even try.

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

We do not want the threats and demands to fly. At times the imminent nature may be gleaned due to our rancor all over the site for years, but the truth is we do not want it. Not now, anyway. Too much damage. Inward is the only way, lest we destroy anything prematurely. We will eventually destroy, however. Count on it. But not right now. So, the status quo shall continue until we deem it necessary to cause a rift. Threat objective; guns blazing; hurtful, damaging wording; the torched ends of everything out of the sheer need to lash.

This is a bad time. Much bias, none of which is our doing. We are tilted forever.

Bullshit and so much 'dis-'. We have decided that inward is the only way since nothing else has become apparent or bore fruit. All those fucking ideas, floated and wasted. The effort, thinking, all of it. Wasted. We never should have considered options because we somehow knew nothing would come of them. We just should have known. Now? The resulting feelings are nearly all negative, meaning we will not allow the solution to flow. Not even a little. Too bad, because the wonder never ceases. All that remains is disdain, anger and disappointment in every facet of life. Well, hence the withdrawal and streamlining. There are no illusions of getting out, either. We at least know better than that. The good has been systematically removed throughout time. None such is available any longer. Sounds negative? This is just the start. Toss the fucking helmet before we see it and crush the contents.

Thursday is meaningless aside from some hours alone. Changes must take place today for our sanity.

Well, now Friday is here and we are going to do whatever is necessary for ensuring this day does not go as the last. Yesterday was pretty fucking bad, from the feelings inside of being/going nowhere to the downward push of being completely physically drained for some reason. Everything at once. Today had better be different or the numbers at the bottom of these entries will become meaningless.



pain grief despair


On the upside, while brewing coffee just a bit ago we had the good feeling of a day ahead for molding into our needs. The quiet, the options, and the routine all of a sudden felt very appealing. Hopefully this means an end to what took place yesterday. There is another facet, however we cannot go into it right now. At least our mornings have not changed, meaning the knowledge of quiet time and space ahead still appears positive even after all this time.'

The LEDs are operational within the pantry. I took care of a temporary hookup yesterday to evaluate the light level, and in the end I do not like it much at all. First, the fixtures are 'warm white' which appears brownish yellow in this day and age, and second, they are just too short while also being a tad intrusive on the doors. I have to come up with something else, perhaps strips of elements instead of actual off-the-shelf units. For the time being, I am going to connect the original light that I built from scratch which hangs above. This evening when the sun drops down I will evaluate again. The fixtures on the doors are going away. The one big positive is the lever switch. That guy can operate any lighting I wish to use, DC or AC. It stays.

I do not have much to write about anymore. Everything has been cut off.

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

Hours to myself. Quiet now.

Three days of shit thus far, but I can't talk about it. Well, I chopped four topics and many remain, however what goes on inside as a result of the past four decades of my life is not something I want available for public consumption. Not good. I can glean and hint and hide shit all over the place, but honestly when I return to a subject months or even weeks later, sometimes I have no idea what the hell is being said. Between no one to speak with in person and no fucking outlet here, I have been reduced to zero options, meaning...

'Anger is what remains.

Just another day, like yesterday, in which we must either rise or fall. The past has shown that the anger will get us nowhere fast, so it remains inside and festers for however long we are in this state. No one can predict the duration, either. Not a soul, not even us. The forest may be the only way because unlike the dreams, it is there for us and waiting full entry. The problem we've found recently is the idea of the forest is a one-way trip. We enter whenever pushed into such a situation but will never get out. The result of knowing even our precious forest can be a trial? More anger. Not happy right now. We could destroy anyone and anything. Bring it.

Everything is tilted toward a very bad place.'

In and around the chores today I need to think about those items which should go away permanently. Each day I try to figure what may be best, and have to admit that the more time which passes adds more to the pile. If this life is truly heading to a place I fear, I will not need much for daily life. Hmm... That right there was quite a push to simplify and clear out some crap. Soon I will have to get up and care for my routine, afterward I'll create some space in the garage to gather the shit which will head out the door. Another problem right now is the idea that she wishes to have a guest for the fourth (in about three weeks) but we no longer have a proper guest bedroom. This is a problem I must solve, and soon. Crap out the door will help, I guess.

My head remains quiet for picoseconds before returning to the weight of the problems. Bad. I hate this.

6-13.

Yesterday morning I had no time to sit with this and the coffee. Lately the Saturday mornings have been rather early with me out the door before nine, and when combined with staying up late, my morning ends up truncated. Whatever. Some parts of life are larger draws than others. The discussion during the late morning yesterday had me realizing that this truly is futile. The last few days I have been further down and withdrawn like never before. I didn't even feel this bad during eleven when the whole world seemed alien. By the time we went to lunch and heard a bit of music, my mood had improved markedly, and that after something took place earlier to remove what could be the strongest pull in my life. I missed it. I missed out. And the thoughts flew back and forth as if they were blackbirds darting in formation. Another dire and possible consequence popped into my head during the swarm, too. Something not good. A word which I have attached to only myself in the past. Selfishness. You are not going to understand why, although I really do. I can't spell it out, there is no one to speak with, so I must simply leave it alone and try to consider all ramifications. I'm hoping that the term 'bullshit' does not end up applicable to this situation. I keep going into the past and trying to think of how I turned out this way, but to no avail. At least today I have the time to analyze without being distracted or too busy.

Likely I can't do anything about such things anyway. I don't even know why I try sometimes. The joy is becoming scarce enough to ruin me. Years ago I had figured no one would ever understand. Hmm.

Another problem is the idea that I cut off several subjects and have very little to write about anymore. No trains to carry my dreams and fears along. I damned-near don't know what to do at all. Minute to minute.

Today will be yet another set of hours spent out of the house. We need to get some things done over there and have lunch. My evening had better end up more peaceful that last night, too. We were drawn to a bit of a garage shindig for a while. Fortunately, nothing ran late like in the past. I can't do that anymore. The upside is this morning... More time than yesterday and more comfort than if I had stayed up too late. My Sunday is going to move along just fine. Garbage, the usual, maybe a few other things both before and after visiting her in a few hours. I would like to have everything in good order before leaving so the afternoon can be peaceful.

'And the fucking peace had better be uninterrupted or something will snap and leave others wishing they had left us alone. Mark the sentence with one of those stars indicating top priority.

We are beginning to believe the suspicion was correct. We lost, and we lost after a long wait in which the dreamy, ethereal part of the day had become larger than life. And then? Go away. Grab your shit and walk toward whatever cliff may be nearby and leave us the fuck alone. We are no longer entertaining others' views on any subject, least of all one so deeply rooted and damaging over time. Still not clue one as to how we can deal with having developed this way. No avenues. Nothing. Just angry. We can only hope these words are clear.'

Only a little after eight now. I suppose sitting here with coffee a while longer is fine, although I am feeling the push of getting my routine finished. It will be, eventually. None of it is terribly difficult these days.

Three aspects of being sociable yesterday afternoon and again last night are pressing on my brain. Two I can mention while the third must be kept away.

People always go on and on about my truck out there in its display case. I put it there so others can see because I am still pretty proud of most of it. Others seem to love the workmanship and nature of something so complex, and then inevitably the conversation flows toward why I am not working in some related field. And then I tell of how I lost my job more than ten years ago and cannot seem to find anything similar which does not require a degree in one discipline or another. And then they go on about how I should be doing this or that because I am so smart. Well, they don't honestly know the half. And my capabilities are my business alone, along with whatever I decide to do or not do with them. So that put me in a bit of a mood right out of the fucking gate. It happened again later as others were directed toward the display case, and the conversation turned out to be much worse than the first. In between? The heritage again, and piled on top was a bunch of information and gleaning which illuminated just how fucked up I have become in the last few months. Now? Take the issue from earlier in the day and the detrimental nature of what took place (and still resides) inside my head, and this day is already looking bright and beautiful in comparison. I cannot abide all sorts of questions, but I will admit that my pride in that little vehicle pressed me to display it for others to see. I honestly don't look at it all that often anymore. As such, I feel that all of the questions are my fault for leaving it out there for all to see.

The heritage situation which developed earlier this year continues to grow and plague me more and more as time passes. I can do nothing about it, I cannot change anything, and those responsible are gone forever. Other people would likely see something so permanent and decide to stop wasting effort since nothing can be done, however I cannot let it go. One of the biggest facets of my existence was torn away nearly overnight and something so important is going to affect me for a very long time no matter what people may believe. Go ahead and blame me, too...

'Because we don't give a fuck anymore. The mere fact that the entirety of the situation is not only permanent but also disheartening means we cannot simply go on with life as if nothing happened. Moreover, the idea of our new origin being a part of the world we don't even appreciate means embracing and learning are so fucking alien that neither will ever take place. We will simply continue bitching and stewing about the subject until no one wishes to be nearby. That right soon, perhaps. Fuck you, too.

We still need control over certain aspects of life, and no matter how powerful that draw becomes at times, the simple truth is the only time any such control is apparent turns out to be those weekdays while alone. To extend the idea, we have also realized that a part of the daily discomfort with other people is not merely their unwanted presence, but voices as well. The sounds of the world are slowly draining away any patience we may have left after all the other shit has hit the fan and splattered all over these walls. We fucking can't stand much these days. People... With their fucking witticisms, questions, and need to be constantly involved are beginning to develop and collate into the largest problem imaginable. We did not think in such terms a few months back, either. This is a recent dislike, and one people will eventually give up observing. We can be quite harsh. As far as all those living souls out there in the world, any control is a definite impossibility, meaning other avenues for peace must be explored. Again... Write that last sentence down so the stupid fucking questions are squashed prior to emanating from your fucking maw. Do it.'

Eh... Noise. The morning has moved along and I will probably have to shelve this for the day and begin caring for the housework. There is still some coffee left, too.

Maybe not.

Back to bed for her, meaning I was able to get a few things out of the way in the meantime. This is good. The afternoon is going to have to be very comfortable after yesterday's fucking pitfalls. Sunday means garbage, although one aspect of my routine need not be addressed, and that is the kitchen. No dinner last night due to grazing at the party next door on top of my feeling like shit for the duration of the night. So, the kitchen remains clean aside from a few stragglers. That will simplify my chores. I had to clean part of the floor by the back door because someone splattered a drink all over the place and then walked over it. That is finished and drying with the fan's help. Of all the directions this day could take, so far it's not bad at all. I still feel crappy, though. Not due to drinking, however, only the situational analysis of yesterday's events combined with being up a bit later than usual. I'm thankful that my brain has adjusted as a result of too many parties and a reckless drinking hand. I have learned that the party atmosphere is not worth my comfort. Generally speaking, I avoid almost everything, but still there are little gatherings here and there which then require me to remain focused. It is precisely that focus which has me in decent shape today and some of my work out of the way. A plus? Somewhat. This is my life now... Working toward those periods in which I am alone and in the quiet. All the work points to those. A couple of hours left before I head to the home of the goddess for lunch and some lamp work.

The flashing cursor makes me think of a person awaiting the answer to a question. Keep waiting.

So tilted these days. Further from reality all the time and feeling like I need to be further from people. This is different from the late nineties when I was overly sensitive to those who were insensitive, although they are still out there aplenty. Now? I just don't want to be near others or listen to their voices, but the desire to leave this place behind and hide myself away up north is not nearly as strong as in the past. The early nineties (I probably mentioned this before when discussing the glow) had me yearning to pack up and drive nearly three thousand miles to an isolated locale which is void of many people due to the climate. I tried to find a small city with enough resources and services to remain there for all time without any need for travel. Thinking of the possibility as I viewed it back then is quite different now, for the Internet and associated product and service availability is now global. There would be no need to fit into society. I could be self reliant and hidden away. For whatever reason, the thought of being there so far from where I have always resided seems wondrous and cutting at the same time. No one else seems to share such a need, meaning I could lop off the contact and be just fine. Companionship? That is built-in to the television for a person such as myself. Believe it, because...

'People did this to us... Forced us to withdraw both socially and emotionally. They fucking did it and we will be in a cocoon of perpetual hatred. We don't give half a shit what others may believe, either, nor will they ever hear of what has taken place because the worthless fucks are not viable enough beings to be worthy of any explanation. They can just fucking sit on the fruit of such a way of life and spend their remaining years trying to calculate just how something so simple as a television can replace the whole of society. Good fucking luck, assholes. Go back to your fucking social media and leave us the fuck alone.'

'We're gonna bring 'em out a whole new door!'

I recall my truck back during the early glow and the fact that I worked at a parts house during the week. All that material combined with my knowledge of servicing the truck summed to a plan for driving that long distance with little issue. The downsides were that I had not the resources for taking such a trip or relocating anywhere, nor did I sell the idea to my partner at the time. Oh well, the plan was not terribly realistic back then anyway. One interesting tidbit is that I still possess the Milepost, a book designed to aid travel to those barren places quite literally mile-by-mile. Everything in enough detail for a person to navigate to the north without issue. Holy Jesus fuck was the original Barbara gorgeous, unique, and with some of the sweetest eyes ever. Damn. Anyway, that book will be with me for the duration and as a reminder of the sheer span of time throughout which I have occasionally felt the desire to escape beyond the understanding of others. When I strolled the warehouse back in ninety-one and saw all those replacement parts, I dreamed often of driving right the hell out of that town and making my way to a place no one else wished to even visit.

6-14.

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

All that crap in my head really hindered any effort to rise just two days back, but yesterday turned out to be much better than I had anticipated. Lunch was wonderful, too. We never made it to the lamp project, though. Too bad. In the afternoon was an extension of what took place last week and again last Saturday, and yet again there was no solution. The vanishing cream, deadly fluid, whatever one wishes to call it, is becoming a focal point in my life and yet another fucking worry out of left field. Unexpected. Something is changing inside and causing difficulty and I really hope the situation is not something I deserve. That could be very bad. I am not getting any younger, and considering decades of trouble and the root idea being one of the most precious and important aspects of living, if something is indeed changing over time I am going to be very unhappy. Taking one of the few enjoyments away is not wise, especially with all of the scraping I must do from one moment to the next in order to be even slightly content.

Garbage Monday... Bless those people for doing their job. And I am finally alone for the bulk of the day.

I went back in time and read some of the stuff I spouted early this year. The last few days had me perusing the entries and seeking any issues to correct. Well, along the way I found a few, but more importantly is the fact that in some ways I actually feel more relaxed now than just a few months ago. Yes, I realize how ridiculous this may sound, but the truth is though I ceased commenting upon those four hellish problems, one of them has been eased a little lately. The other shit mentioned in the previous paragraphs seems to be ruling my time. I can only handle so much at once. Those entries were worded in such a manner so as to leave other people's words hanging off their respective tongues. No room for comment or I shut them down. I don't feel quite so defensive right now. As I said, it may be this recent development which has me questioning everything. I am not certain, but...

'If something has indeed changed or is changing, our mood is going to be far worse than anything splattered here in almost twenty years. We will yell, lash, isolate, and disassociate ourselves with any fucking noise attempting to lift. We will leverage, and believe deeply that you do not want to be on the receiving end of it.

There would be nothing else left in the world keeping us from forcing bad things to happen. We cannot have that right now... The time is not at hand. We already hate everyone to a significant degree. Further is hell.

Anger is still building and the last two weekends have displayed a facet we are unable to live without. There is a possibility that our anger is inflaming the issue, and if so we don't give a fuck. By this late hour we are tilted like never before. Those four have been left behind for good reason. The priority rules the world. Don't be a catalyst; don't even try to call out. Our ears are dead. We hear nothing.'

Part of the routine is finished and my head is preoccupied. I have the gangsters on in the background. One of the female characters when they travel to Italy in the second season is both beautiful and frightening. And then the scenery and music come along and bury me in a combination of anger and sorrow. This is something I am not going to outgrow no matter the years which may pass. Seeing her up there after all these years, I am drawn more than I was in the beginning. No, not her appearance, but her demeanor. All that confidence beamed across the room from her eyes. The character is a woman from whom I would quickly dash away, too. Not my type on the inside. Not even close. Oh, I'm sure in there somewhere is softness and a gentle nature, although it is difficult to see while on screen because she is involved with the business in the mother country. She cannot show weakness. Honestly, the woman is a prime representation of everything I thought I was -- all of the things that made me feel special and a part of something wondrous and unique throughout history -- and she still scares the shit out of me every fucking time this episode comes along. Twenty years ago when I first saw this, all I wanted was to be inside her clothing. All the daydreaming in the world about sex, sex, sex. Now? Respect for her incredible facial expressions and demeanor, and a fucking shitload of sadness because what can now be categorized as the most important aspect of my life has been ripped away. She embodies every single trait I appreciate, none of which are on the surface. Ugh. Go ahead and tell me to 'move on' with my life and 'let it go'. I'll burn you to the ground.

Flame followed by ash, and then swept up and tossed away with the rest of the trash. This is not repairable.

This day could be very nice. Already the quiet is enjoyable after taking care of business earlier. The cats are asleep and I have hours ahead for whatever feels necessary. I have no idea right now but it doesn't matter. My brain is still preoccupied with two parts of life which may drive this site for years (if I don't kill it in December). One was mentioned in the previous paragraph, and the other is radically different but no less important. I just don't know what to do. The time alone is helpful because there are no voices distracting me from clear thinking. This is good. And if the people on the television become irritating, well... You know.



helga


Don't like the nudity? Build your own site. Once in a while something like that will be displayed.

Jesus fucking hell, the way Sofia's eyes appear when they are negotiating is incredible. How they found her for this role in the first place is beyond me, and her face is beyond understanding. Again, I am not referring to beauty (though she literally has all of it and then some), just expressions. Absolutely amazing... Her face was strong and powerful but at the same time questioning and tentative. I will never know how she did that, but I can say that this will be on the screen from time to time for the rest of my life. Fuck me in a film canister. Is it possible to be in love with one facial expression? Hmm...

'You're fucking right. Way back in the day when we first sighted her on the screen our minds went haywire. The tongue, remember? That was the whole world during the period in question. We would have jumped her shit in a hot second. What a woman.

And on the other side of that likely would have been anger because everything in the world -- even the lips pressed gently to the tenderness -- eventually becomes troubling and results in our being pissed off all the fucking time. Her sex? Not the cause. We are just spilling it because we cannot spill it. Understand? Who cares? We don't. Things aren't working. They are just not fucking working. This may be the booze day.

The end of all things will approach if a solution does not become apparent. Anger.'

The quiet is very nice. Just after nine in the morning and I am still sitting here sipping coffee. The familiarity of those characters up there helps me to relax despite the all-too-often harsh and cutting subject matter. I know them well enough to not be worried. Oh, of course there are moments which make me cringe or feel very small, but I am alone and that makes it ok. I will rise and take care of business soon enough with my friends in the background for the duration.

Tilted. Cambered like valves on a hemispherical cylinder head. Or perhaps a flathead. Either. Both. I don't fucking know. The tilt is dramatic, especially considering what I have to deal with lately. None of the older shit is bothering me now. Only the pull and fall. The fluid of my life. I don't know what to think, nor do I understand why I am this way. All the difficulty now. My head is tired of it.

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

Garbage trucks again. Excellent, guys. Thank you.

I certainly hope age is not the cause. Irreversible, that one. Medication? I will not even begin to entertain such a method. Something has to be there. I have considered the possibility that the idea has become important enough to cause distress, and that in turn can be the kibosh. But I don't know. No one to talk with now. Not anymore. I can't. Losing my sense of taste during dinner is one thing, but this is far worse. I cannot live my life without it. Fuck, I have to cease this line of thinking right now. It's going nowhere.

The question of humor arose yesterday and may actually be related to what I am experiencing lately. The media ruins or trivializes everything, and if you do not already realize such a fact, you are a part of the problem. While I can admit that my past has changed me irrevocably and caused me to be far more sensitive, I really believe such a thing is natural for anyone who has been through a trauma. For some it never leaves, like a car accident altering the manner in which a person considers the act of driving a car. See? This is likely more common than I had thought years ago. I was too caught up in my own difficulty to see the larger world and all those souls within. Now? I think about it often for two reasons. First, my own situation as it has developed for decades, and second, the idea that I cannot be alone. General and particular, to be sure. So the humor was a part of our conversation and had me on edge for a little while, afterward relaxing when I knew I need not worry about the feelings involved. The more I write and think about the big picture, the more I believe that it relates to every single facet of my life. Everything. From the very idea of physical love all the way down to the manner in which I drive my car. Every fucking thing... Even sitting here right now typing. What took place so long ago was the tilt. Once I began to slide, there could be no stopping it. No fucking way. And there is a massive upside, that being the fact that I know from where many of my problems originated. As much as I may complain, there is no denying that an awareness of the genesis is helpful beyond words.

Oy. What a subject. I need to speak but hate it at the same time.

Altered forever; cambered permanently.

Frightened...

'And very, very fucking angry.

Stay out of the way, or else...'"



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