comainterrupted
The Beginning
Skip Navigation Links









The Raven




11-03-2019 05:32 pst

The historic archives have been added back in to the indexed entries. We feel that the importance of displaying the early days of this endeavor overpowers the need to keep things neat. The links are back on the archive index, the pages are there once again, however the images associated to those old entries may not return. The main point? Words, times, and dates need to be kept for the long haul. The images are unimportant for the most part.

Other than the return of the past, we have nothing to report.


hexagram




Drop


"November incoming. I begin to dream of this time of year in January, and now it is here. The fourth season. I can only hope it remains as such and does not fly too quickly, because when the second of the new year arrives I will not be happy to put it mildly. The drop which takes place that day like clockwork feels as if it is already hanging right in front of me. I do not like it in the least, and every year is the same.

Dropping? Drooping? Huh?

Outside right now the air is crisp, dry, and cool. Just a week ago I was bitching endlessly about the heat and this morning it is long gone. I believe we are finished with that shit for the remainder of the year and possibly beyond. Considering all of the negatives from one second to the next, that is definitely one less. I can handle other things -- such as the fucking routine -- more easily when the worry of temperature is not there. Focusing upon the projects which take a back seat to the issue of climate will be easier in the coming weeks. The main issue which has taken the lion's share of my thinking for months does not change with the season, however, and still hangs there like the terror at the end of the street. Remember that? Look it up. Pay attention. I realize my words are not easy to follow, but for fuck's sake...

Things around the house are a bit of a priority regardless of the big fucking problem. I need to choose to make that go away, and in the meantime the house benefits. Cool temperatures mean the attic is available for getting things installed which can make the hot easier to handle. Over the next several weeks that will be out of the way for the shit season. Right now? My head is a blender. Sometimes I cannot easily deal with the emotional and mental aspects of being who I am, and that is not to say that I believe others have it better than I. The statement simply indicates that my own problems are again at the forefront. Similar to a few of the entries here which had been published throughout the past two-plus years. Earlier than that I did not consider those subjects in the same fashion. After so many writings and built feelings in my head and heart, the problem has become myself. I drive my own vehicle of thought... No one else.

The drop is now. Options A, B, and C have been explored yet still there is no solution. I mentioned the main issue. Well, that is something different. I have not experienced quite this level of difficulty for such a long period of time in the past. The whole enchilada is not good. Little things from time to time are fine and much easier to consider. I feel that there is too much all at once for me to swallow. The days are rolling by as if we are on a downhill slope with no brakes. I need the time to slow a bit for me so that I can take it one step at a time and weigh all of it. That is unlikely. Every time I think I am getting my arms around something tough, the clock fucks me up and leaves my brain unable to operate properly.

I keep trying, but the drop is right there. Drop.



653



The threat remains every second of every day and I do not see anything which might serve to alleviate such a fear. Years have taught me there is no way out. The higher the beauty, the lower my position. All of it points to option C. Said threat eased a tad this afternoon after trying to fit with others, but then returned within me in a short time. I cannot easily deal with those feelings due to a lifetime of negative thinking combined with that decades-old catalyst which still brings me to my knees. The fear swirled within like a milkshake from hell itself until finally departing that locale of trouble and fleeing toward home. The others were there like usual and generally have nothing to do with this, although there have been occasions in which the threat came from very close by and floored me to no end. One such occasion is still in there pretty fucking deep and I am powerless to change it. I cannot just upend myself and pour out the bad. As we cleared the door I felt a bit less upon my shoulders and was left with driving home via the store.

One stopover moments later destroyed any remaining strength. I saw her from a great distance and followed as much as I could while still navigating the other direction. I spied a ton of blonde hair and height wrapped in black stretch. Fuck. Ashley? Sort of... But older. Right on by me just on the opposite side of the big cooler, she was paying exactly zero attention to me. I slowed and watched her long, slender legs gait their way around and down one of the aisles. Stop. Turn. There she went, walking away beautifully with hair bouncing and the appearance of Andrea herself in my broken eyes. My feet were glued to the tile due to an inability to move until I could no longer see the amazing form of her walk. I could not move. She commanded me without knowing one iota of my life or glancing in my direction even once. Nothing. I might as well have been a fucking column standing stupefied by beauty for the millionth time. She disappeared around the corner and I tried to continue toward the dairy without losing my Goddamned head completely. As I stepped slowly, the realization that I am unimportant and damaged beyond repair flooded me as if the dam of my existence had been destroyed right then with my everything pouring all around. Drowning. Done. Fuck.

Finished in the store, out to the car, back home where I am supposed to be immune from all that hurts me on a daily basis. Nope. Another her. Still in there to this very second. Fuck me anyway.

I see her walking past my position over and over. Those long legs were decorated with each radius on stunning display as I watched them move. Arms, shoulders, and fingers followed along with her tremendous height and left me yearning to see everything. Her hair bounced from side to side as my insides twisted into a huge knot. Shopping fell away from my thinking but I had to move forward. Nothing looked good after seeing my dream right there and then being removed from sight. What does that mean? Am I so fucking ruined that the simplicity of a beautiful example of form has the singular ability to keep me from daily life? Probably. I know not what to do. This morning is just all bad, and worse than the night before.

And then another fall of proportions I cannot calculate. Slingshot from hell. I am half a person. Less, even. I keep thinking of an NIN tour title from years ago... 'Now I'm Nothing'.



654



Moving forward from a double drop is very hard. I consider myself an intelligent being, yet the mistakes which I carry out do not stop. What to do? Is the temptation and pressure too much for me to handle? I have been told that it's fine, but cannot agree. That is an opinion -- and a sweet one -- but mine is paramount. That does not make the situation in my head any easier for people to follow. My time alone is precious and I ruin it over and over. Today is no different and I now sit at this editor without direction. Nothing. Nada. There are tasks, enjoyable moments which I can embrace, and still I end up just standing in motion. Circling like a vulture, aimlessly.

Option C again.

The goddess in the fucking store slammed me pretty good. I was temporarily paralyzed by my own obsession combined with the situation which occasionally brings some satisfaction. The idea that I can be so fucked up over just a moment of seeing such a woman means that I have not risen one bit since beginning this shit. I am further down by my own actions, inactions, and the decision to push toward something that has proven to be ill-advised. I could not make a good decision if my life depended on it. Even the essay which preceded this crap is not good. Grammar? Very good. Subject matter? Well, that varies. But the overarching meaning and reasoning behind the creation of such a bitch session is just bad. I keep pushing forth with the words and in the end -- or by the end of each dated entry -- I am broken badly. In half, and by myself. Something needs to change, and I must do it. Unfortunately, I have no fucking idea of what to change nor how to go about it. The issues, the situation, the visions, everything else, and my own worry are taking all of my time away and leaving me sitting here like a child sans direction. Broken, as I stated many times. Just so fucking broken and afraid of what is ahead. The train. Remember that story? Yeah... Look how that turned out. Fuck me in a muddy ditch.

I am close.

The upside at this moment is being holed up without a time limit. I can think, relax, and stay away from others. I can plan a bit, for whatever that may be worth. Last week I mentioned streamlining and simplifying everything and that can move forward as well. Eventually I will drink and degrade, but at this early hour the day looks better. There is a game on tonight. That means a distraction. The situation is related, though. I will need to remain clear within myself and focus upon the enjoyment rather than the other ten thousand fucking aspects of my life which are burning away brain cells. The routine will return soon enough. Until then, thinking is the key to everything.

The morning arrived to spend part of the day with the brotherhood in the trees. Although I continued to change my mind about being included in the drive and festivities, in the end I decided to go. And that despite all of the time I need at home to maintain my sanity while it still exists. I went along for the ride, enjoyed some food and drink, but in the end the simple truth is that I lost a day of my life which does not help me at all. To make matters worse, I was away from my usual hiding place and trying to deal with the situation in my head -- which also advanced quite a bit -- while maintaining a positive image in order to keep people from wondering what could be wrong with me. The exhausting feat of covering myself and my fucked up head was overwhelmingly difficult. I did it. Considering the amount of shit packed up into the heavy bags from both past and present, I am surprised that I did not go out the fucking window on the freeway. And now the time is gone. Out the door in the morning and back through the door in the evening. The time is gone. Forever. I tossed it away. Now I must make up for missing all of the important things I needed to try to accomplish during that day.



655



The other fucking thing returned last week. Yes, that one... From decades ago and always something with which I cannot easily deal. I simply sit and consider the personality and sexual aspects of that fucking issue and the insides of my body twist into knots for hours. Sometimes days. It is too hurtful, demeaning, and threatening these days and I am too fucking old to be worrying about something which damages me on each occasion and leaves me in a heap of concern. I do not have time to be fearing such things. I just do not have the fucking time, and that statement is written while considering my place in the world. There are fifteen-plus fucking problems in my head and stuffing another in there which has such an effect is going to end very badly for anyone associated with me.

Too many occasions of using the word 'thing'? Suck it. I cannot just spell out the problem.

A few weeks back was one example, and not long after that another issue took place and left me helpless. A third then reared its ugly head and floored me. The bad one began to fade before the feelings returned to my heart and caused the scarring, but then the little references started to pile atop the original strike to me. Now they remain. The pile, the feelings, the fears, the threat. Very fucking soon I will slam the problem by killing every good thought and pushing it so far away and with enough violent words to ensure I remain alone in the world. That may be the only path I can follow. Without a connection there is no possibility of painful regret and visions of threats. I will not need to be concerned with the world around me due to others being in view. I will not be looking, nor will anyone else. By removing the cause I will be effectively removing the pain. One of two roadways will be treaded in support of my self-preservation... Either disappearing or shutting down the catalyst. The fucking issue gleaned last week and partially spelled out here is going to destroy me, so a preemptive strike is only a matter of time. Even now, sitting alone in the early morning and sipping coffee while enjoying the quiet, my insides are twisted. Nothing will fade with time or absence or separation. There are only two ways to deal with this fucking bullshit. Do I sound slightly angered? Yeah... Do not ask for specifics. Fuck you. Just... Fuck everyone and everything. I do not wish to be a part of the social structure any longer. I have now realized that I can still be somewhat in control of my path, however, but in support of that others are going to suffer when I lash out.

I will still be here, but no one is going to be comfortable around me and that is the understatement of the universe. Did I mention fuck you? That is no longer enough.

Yes, the situation has worsened just since yesterday morning. Work was fine, but inside was bad. Oh sure, there were a couple of forms on the street in the big city, however in the long run they add up to exactly shit when compared to all that is swirling at this moment. Yesterday began with worry over seeing those tormenting beauties on the street and ended with an issue which makes the obsession fade away like whipped cream in the desert sun. That fucking bad. Today is going to be a period of reflection and planning, leading to tomorrow (in which we gain an hour... One of the best days of the year) when the mess in my head comes flying out horribly. I am going to leave a wake just as back in the older days when I hated everyone and took myself out of the equation. Tomorrow will be bad but may lead to a better work week as people realize that my caring has come to an end. Am I going somewhere? Nope, I am staying right fucking here for as long as possible so I can answer the unavoidable questions which will doubtless rise very soon. I cannot wait. I just cannot fucking wait to slam others with words they do not understand and then turn away as if they are not there. Threaten me? You shall see.

Or, maybe you will not. Either way, I do not give a fuck.



656



Tomorrow is here. The threat continues without consideration, forgiveness, or any sign of slowing. It advances, constantly. In the course of one calendar day I am dropped two-fold. Pray I do not go further. Take all of the depressing and forceful words since 'Falling Away' a year ago and add them. I am not fucking kidding. The slightest tap from any direction and I am gone. I can barely deal with this. Just as stated above, while around others last night my face provided quite the message to those around me. They stayed away for the most part, only approaching to ask of my decorated vest. Once I dropped that to the chair, no one came to me for anything. The band set up their equipment, I sat and watched television, and the time passed until finally I escaped the lights and hid at home. I felt used up, tired, and combative, but did not inflict myself upon anyone or anything all night. Off to sleep with worry over my last portion of free time coming before sunrise. And here it is.

The time has changed this morning. Back to standard, where we should have been weeks ago.

Today is going to be very interesting to those dealing with my personality. I am now on a path and thinking of the best way to stay there without completely shutting out others. I need the connections to advance my own life until they are no longer necessary. On the surface will be pleasant, personable, and kind, while down deep the mechanism will be calculating, repositioning, and frozen. Nothing will enter. Nothing. Gears meshing. Knives chopping. Plans forming. I need to relish each and every second. Coffee.

Yesterday's fall continues to this second. I just could not believe -- even after that issue being gleaned a few times in the past week -- that all these years passing since I first became worrisome over such a thing. I was slammed back by the feelings. The idea that my past returned at the hands of another few people is surprising, and dealing with it is difficult. I am out of practice and mired within the daily aspects of life like an adult. Back then I could simply leave. Now? That is no longer simple. I have to figure out ways of keeping my head above water while simultaneously leading others to believe that I am just fine. Again, and like I stated above about the forest, it is very tiring and I have only so much energy on any given day. Something will suffer if I expend all of it maintaining a fucking facade. There are just too many facets and everything is related. I have to be careful, and that means becoming worn out may be my only path.

There is always the option of destroying the source, too. I can make that happen easily. There will be less in my life as a result, though. Much less. Those who know me here will see me differently and likely keep their distance. As much as I would love people to stay the fuck away from me, I cannot provide the reason. Better I do not destroy anything until such time as I can disappear. By then more will doubtless be piled on top, making the recipient of my destruction that much more unhappy. And by extension, my absence will be increasingly welcomed. Leaving after something such as that seems more balanced. Right now I am so angered and disillusioned that any suggestions are going to be shot in the fucking face immediately. I have to await a time when I can calm a measure and think clearly. The fog thickened throughout the night and this morning and has left me bereft of caring for others. Fuck everyone. That is the standpoint right now. And I mean every fucking person, known or otherwise. Yep. Don't like it? Click your fucking ass over to some other site and read the bunnies and smiles. Be the herd, stupid fuck. You know how.



657



Remember nuts in May? That was a horrible mess. Turn? That was published before being finished. Do you see the gaps? I don't care. I needed to get that essay the fuck out of the editor to make room for this latest foray into the reasons I am so joyous right now. This is all I have in the world. Pretty fucking sad, eh? The nuts in May led all the way through to this third day of November. A much more comfortable time of the year. Inside there is no such comfort, however at least I know why and can take action against everything I dislike. People, too. Wait for it.

Drop.

The threat mentioned over and over is still causing pain. I cannot really do anything about it other than explore the issue within me which sparks that fire. I still do not understand, but one positive is that there is no downside to analyzing. There is still time despite the late date, so I can work on it. I will say that by the early evening yesterday I was more than willing to wipe out anyone within view. The violent thoughts always cool given time, and today is no different. My hope is to alienate. That way I can get the mass away from me without possibility of them wishing to be nearby again. I have the singular power to send all this shit to the globe. In person? Much less. I keep it quiet. Everything on the inside. And then just as I am about to implode and run away, the words come forth and the other people look at me as if I had two heads. 'Where did that come from?' Yep... No one understands the coding of my harsh words. Well, I am sorry for being this way, but you made it happen.

Today is a red-letter sort. Yes, it is. Not an epiphany, but a realization of a type that I have not felt since the late nineties. The trouble which congealed yesterday has pressed me in a direction that illuminates the importance of my coldness. It is bright now, burning with the heat of anger. As the heat causes my insides to melt away, that core no one wishes exposed will soon ignite and deflagrate toward the sources of my dissatisfaction. They are there waiting. They will see and feel my reaction intimately. And then I will shut the door just in time to stifle questions. No one gets an answer to anything, ever. Go fuck yourselves. Do it in earnest, and soon. Maybe seeing the action actually happening with sordid expressions can cause me to smile.

Back to the second of January for a moment. As fall descends and cools everything, the winter awaits my enjoyment. But is it possible now? Can I relax and focus upon the agreeable weather and shorter days? Or will this drop continue and make the beginning of twenty a horrible, disfigured mess? I do not know. I can only be certain that right now things are very bad, like worse than fifteen when the meaning of life slipped away. Yes, worse than that period. And to pile one more little tidbit of manure atop everything which has freshly developed since yesterday, there will be no trip to the high country weeks from now. That's right... The last few months have left me without the options which make that escape happen twice a year like clockwork. I cannot imagine the damage that loss may cause, but I see it coming. Another harsh drop from on high. Generally speaking, by the beginning of November that trip is a high. Without such things out there in the near future, I am left further down and more worried of my sanity than ever. The trip always causes distress due to the culture there in Nevada, however the escape has become medicine. Remove that bit of help and I do not know what to expect. Bad? Yes, but to what extent? Harm? Also yes. Time will tell if I survive.



658



The turn came and went and no one cares. Flip? Nothing there, either. I no longer believe what I place and publish here means a fucking thing. All this work for years and the numbers remain in the fucking toilet. I am on the side of the information superhighway like always, plodding along like a snail with too much to say and not enough meaning. No caring. No nothing. I keep saying 'fuck you', but perhaps the more apt phrase is 'fuck me'. Right? What do you think? Did you know there is a contact page with an email address that has been there for nearly two decades? Many times I have written here questioning something else and solicited comments, but in all this time not one fucking email has appeared. Wow. Am I surprised? No one wishes to ask or comment on anything? Do I remove the room to do so and leave everything so tied up and forceful that there is nothing to ask? Or perhaps people are fearing the answer? I don't know and no longer care. Maybe I will remove the business email account and save money. It just sits there and displays junk every now and again. That is all. I mentioned 'fuck me'... There it is.

Drop? Oh hell yes.

Dropped. I was not expecting the latest ugly head from the past rearing again. I thought I was too old and experienced in life for such a fucking issue to arise out of the clear, black sky. I thought. Hmm... Perhaps that was the mistake. Thinking does me no good whatsoever anymore. The largest portion of my head trying to think and make sense of things ends up here week after dark week, month after depressing month, year after fucked up year. I cannot stop my brain. It is scientifically impossible. Well, the hollow-point can fly through and make modern art out of said brain. I do not want that to happen, mind you. I want things to relax and improve so I can seek out the enjoyment and adventure once again. So far, nothing like that is taking place during this precious time of year. Nothing. Not even the visit to the trees yesterday. That turned out to be... Well, you know. Read it. The ugly head came along and ruined every fucking second of the remaining day. Turning the clock back this morning helps perhaps one-thousandth of a percent. That is all. The issue is right there clawing at my head and heart. It will not go away.

Flip? Was there a fucking flip? A drop? This might sound like a drop of sorts. Read it as such.

This shit is going to have to come to an end. I am running out of motivation to continue.

The negative material plane awaits."



archive this way

top

footer