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[06:32 pst 04/16/2017 CE, 1492349520 E]

Current audio: Agalloch 'Ashes Against the Grain'

The cloud and local indexes have been further streamlined this week. The FAQ has been pulled down for rework and should return within a month or so. That content has not been updated in many years (other than dates and links), and is in need of a revamp top to bottom. As soon as admin has the notes ready, we will code and publish.

Regular readers may notice the site direction has been veering back and forth from DP to other subjects being drummed up from the past. This will continue as admin throws memories up on the index. We do not know what to expect.

Also, the idea of removing the site news section has come up again recently. This would change the structure of the main index and place each essay at the top of the page. We still do not know if our reports will go away or not. Time will tell.


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The Fork and the Equation


"We drove... from there to here. We traveled the roadways in earnest, and feeling that we were taking the correct path -- making the right decision. That journey was one tine on the fork we created out of a deep need for the beauty. We found it, temporarily. And then the world fell in upon itself leading us to the worst possible set of circumstances, feelings, and remorse. We are still there. Here. Wherever we placed ourselves. This locale of confusion, depression, alcohol, and the continuing questions which feel as much like knives as the recollection of that terrible day. We are in more than one void: The hole which developed as a result of the obsession, and the vacuum which formed when we removed breathable air from life. This position now stands as the most arduous daily trial we could have imagined, yet never thought ourselves capable. But we did it anyway. Sour, decaying issues... one after the other.

All of the issues remain, and they do not let up at any juncture. The situation stands now as it was then, so many years past. We did it all.

Yes, we drove the path into this void and vacuum. We drove ourselves into realizing that nothing was as it appeared, and the realization which gripped us like a noose took hold and has not let up. Nothing is the same, nothing is toward the positive, and the nothingness we previously remarked upon within this content has cemented itself without mercy. We thought we were doing the right thing for ourselves. What a fucking farce. The damage path became overwhelming to the point at which we struck a deal with ourselves: Live with it or die with it. And we are still amidst that quandary and challenge. Looking to the left at the other monitor we see our progress, promise, and desire. We also see the result of the worst possible break from life that we could have imagined.



fork in the road

Perhaps the other tine would have been better



Our situation is well-deserved, to say the least. We caused a break of epic proportions by taking that fucking tine, and for a thousand days thereafter we suffered. That does not matter. What does make a difference is the suffering on the other side of the world which we left behind with a snap decision. The current thought of leaving that life is unreal. We cannot believe ourselves capable of such a massive and all-encompassing shift from daily life into the emotional gas clouds now floating both within our heads and over that little house not far from our location. Everything was in line to ensure a loving and secure future. The home, career, partner, hopes and dreams of a lifetime were in process and glowing like the moon over the fucking desert. We had everything we wanted and needed. Now, however, nothing like that is remotely possible. We have become a self-made black hole of depression, alcohol, financial distress, and never-ending bitching. But we consciously did this -- we left there and drove here. We did it in no uncertain terms and without remorse. We just drove our stupidity to another location, and that is as easy a task as taking to the knife in avoidance of feeling. Wait... that is not easy at all. We have headed in such a direction many times throughout the past several years but the action was impossible. It still is, however the feelings push us toward that type of end quite often. We cannot avoid them.

The knife.

During the first several weeks of being on the coast we wrestled with the notion of walking into the sea with bottle in hand, but the other soul close by would have none of it. She would not even entertain the idea due to her own closeness with death. Yes, we were codependent and miserable on many levels. Still, what went on within us was kept closer as time elapsed. We knew of the fallout from leaving home so definitively, and we knew exactly what was happening there as a result of our decaying sensibilities. The horrendous suffering we created is still nearly enough to send us to the fucking soil. How could it not? We have clarity of thought now just as we did after everything unraveled. The drive to harm ourselves was not solely born of the obsession -- it began in the previous life, years ago. There are so many reasons to end everything and the fork was certainly not the origin. It has become another notch. A big one. The biggest, in fact.



the drive

Driving to destruction



The image above was shot during the drive -- directly above the steering wheel. We were on the bridge and screaming to get to the other side. We needed to be there, or at least we thought we did. That was not the hour of the decision, but the hour of mass uncertainty, illusion, and the disjointed thoughts which did not allow us to reason anything beyond the white lines. We kept the pace until reaching a destination which would soon destroy all rationality and sense. We just fucking drove ourselves insane, but did not know of it. We were blinded by so many needful things that any other possibility was simply and mindfully destroyed prior to becoming clear.

And yes, that is the hood and headlight of a black Corvette ZR-1 -- the one which was mentioned here.

The destination came quickly, and from there all went awry within several lives and two heads. There was no longer any semblance of up. None. We remained in relative physical comfort, yet across the way... the violent unraveling of a lifetime, and all manner of destruction. Innocence gone, love diminished, family disassembled at the joints... and an entirely beautiful level of living absolutely obliterated throughout the course of an evening. We never went back along that path, and the remaining fallout continues to this very second. Currently we are sitting in the third incarnation of living space since the divide we caused, and all positives have narrowed and focused into this space -- just this outlet. Each moment spent in front of the development environment is sans happy recollection, however. Forgetting any detail from that terrible day or the many which have followed is just not going to happen.

To this very second, the idea of what took place at that home is crippling to consider. Just a thought, a phone call, and a few hours of unreasonable and fragmented conversation and the world imploded on the most beautiful soul we have ever encountered. We caused pain on every level and much of it continues as we type these words. We know that first hand. And... us? Well, that does not matter any longer. We did it, and whatever shit hell we must plow through is deserved in fucking spades. In fact, we are hoping that nothing positive will ever be laid before us. We are expecting to fall, slowly and continuously, until the end. No happiness here, just memory. Oh, of course we would prefer some relief, but that is not going to happen in this life. Be it our conscious choice or by external influence... either way we are doomed.



massive destruction

Massive destruction



A change of such magnitude naturally requires an enormous amount of time for adjustment and some sort of realignment within the world. The disruption seemed unending during the first several months, and even now it continues. As comfortable and secure as we can be in front of this damned editor and environment, the mind still retains every single detail -- each second which passed -- of that unimaginable day.

During the first few months in our new location, we spent time in the City as much as possible. We were seeking distraction, and so was the woman at our side. In fact, after exactly one month, we had taken this trip solely in hopes of said distraction. On the surface everything was fine and dandy for us, yet deep within there was much turmoil -- some caused by her situation as well as ours, and some caused by the togetherness which had been ill-conceived from the outset. Although Molly Magee's tavern felt as another world, the reality spun inside us like shit in a powerful blender. And the City was similar. Guinness, Jameson, and Newcastle kept our feelings at bay, and helped the connection between us develop in a very distorted manner. We strolled recklessly and with nary a thought to the future of anything. We simply kept the pace of attraction, photography, and the indulgent nature which became second only to breathing. She was just the individual to assist in our selfish and destructive behavior because she was also on a path crafted from pain and guilt. Something similar had been caused by her -- a long-term relationship sliced to ribbons -- and we came along at a moment when she wished for a partner in crime, so to speak. The City helped with everything due to the endless bars, restaurants, shopping, and scenery.

And all of the elements came together for us... in our continuing drunken stupor. The cameras snapped up everything in sight, and we spent hour after spinning hour wandering the streets in search of clarity and reason. Of course, none of that could be found no matter where our feet carried us. We simply darted in random directions and maintained our flirty and foolhardy nature. Being in the City nearly five days out of seven helped to galvanize our position as certifiable wanderers with the breath of a distillery's steam vents. The piers, the waterfront, the Mission, and most notably North Beach became havens for our needs. We loved all of it, but love was hardly the term which could be applied to the entire situation. The fact remains that we had each caused emotional damage from which there was no return nor was there any possibility of repair. Everything we collectively left behind had been abandoned seemingly without remorse. All of this had been floating amidst our walks like a decaying life swirling within a cloud.

This was the tine we had chosen, and for all of the unstable reasoning which brought us toward such a place, the ease in daily life became solely available through the outings. The other tine of the fork was slowly diminishing in the sad manner we expected. Despite our distinct lack of reason, the truth still hovered behind every sordid moment, and due to her situation being quite similar, the combination was self-defeating.



BART station platform

The conveyor of so many trips into the city



The division we caused affected every aspect of family relationships as well as our friends. We had an enormous network of contacts, a huge level of financial interests, and responsibilities related to the house and work. All of that came to a crashing halt and caused distress on every front. The split resulting from our decision to choose that goddamned tine also forced her to rework the banking and home mortgage. In at least one way it worked out well for her because of the loan modification which would not have otherwise been available or feasible. That allowed her to maintain that little house and her stability. We lost out, naturally, but that did not matter. All we hoped for was her comfort. Massive remorse did not make forgiving ourselves possible.

And now we sit in the worst possible position we could have imagined. There is no future, little security, no retirement, and loads of discomfort. The before picture was beautiful. The after picture? Below.



the damage path

The wrong tine did this



During the winter of 1992 we attended a birthday party. The subject of the occasion was us -- our twenty-fifth. Family, food, a bit of booze, and the fantastic warmth of a house in Livermore. Everyone who mattered to us was there. The television was always on in the background and the conversation was as it had been for similar gatherings throughout many years. The entire picture was one of comfort and stability as we have rarely experienced. We milled around the house socializing and enjoying the affair, and many moments into that day we noticed a magnetic notepad upon the refrigerator. The pad was often used for grocery lists, but on that day it displayed an equation: '100÷25=4 A Quarter of a Century!'. And that string of characters has become a reference point in our history. The equation was a simple gesture commemorating the day, but now it stands in stark contrast to our current situation as a result of the fucking fork. That day was full of wonder and enjoyment the likes of which we cannot match in these late days. Everyone present was younger (some are gone now, which is another reason to look upon that party with fond memories), and full of life. The food was always good and the comfort of that house cannot be overstated. We had a bright-eyed partner -- loving and caring -- who helped us to dream of a future with light. She was the embodiment of beauty and passion, and her outlook was always toward the up. During that period so many years ago, we felt the same. We were unconcerned with whether or not the future held success because we were constantly relaxed about everything... all aspects of daily living. Weekdays were spent working and dreaming of the weekends with that woman, and the weekends were awash with fun. The occasional trip to the high country was made even better when we traveled with her. Of course, it was all very low-budget, but that did not matter because we had the best times just being together. The equation included all of that happiness and comfort, and this is the reason it feels so distant now. Along comes the first of many forks resulting in a split and thousands of miles between us. The fork and that fucking equation are intimately related.

Everything just mixes in a haphazard nature due to our inability to make reasonable decisions regarding anything emotional or otherwise important to our stability. And the event took place so long ago... we still had years ahead and directions laid out before us. Options. Now we have none of that.

The tine we chose has sharpened the contrast between that equation and our present downtrodden condition. The obsession has also heightened our awareness of said contrast. We have effectively removed the early options by allowing time to pass without any attempt to improve or stabilize life. We are traveling through time -- as it increases in velocity -- still unable to push toward any positive trajectory. As stated in past entries, we are cemented by our own actions, and moreso by our vast complement of inactions.

We are beginning to run short of air within this safe, and we have not experienced a crest in years."



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Random Quote:

"Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day,
in all the thousand small uncaring ways."
-- Stephen Vincent Benét


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