[08:33 pst 01/06/2018 CE, 1515256380 E]
Further streamlining has taken place, and the content remains
unchanged since the outset of the year. We are striving to maintain simplicity here.
The framework
has been working extremely well and is supported like no other aspect of the web. The branching out we were
hoping to complete by the end of 2017 has not even begun, and DP sits idle with no hope of any expansion nor
realization of production. Admin carries on with the narrow theme here, and we go with it.
"The calendar rolls over me like a freight train. The toast of
seventeen feels as if it took place five minutes ago. Fuck. Now the bleach box of eighteen is upon me, and
the feelings are dropping through the floor. All of the activities related to the fourth and master seasons
are over, and the only thing which remains is the upward swing of daylight. Again, fuck. Things need to improve
and soon.
And the misery continues to consume.
After Alexis and all
that she represented, the outline of my current situation, and all of the exploration throughout these many
months since the Raven departed, little has changed other than the minuscule daily comforts. In fact, the tilt
which enables the slide seems to be worsening. I cannot find relief, and the options carry on with their
narrowing forces. Until something dynamic or dramatic occurs, the near path is clear: doom. And I am going to
embrace the countdown for the third time since its creation. There seem no other directions. Too much has
taken place throughout the last seven years, and none of it with clarity. The events leading up to this
still-undefined period share a similar lack of focus, and the new issues are serving to reinforce all of my
instability. Distractions are still effective, however the lengths to which I must stretch myself for day
to day survival are becoming mentally and emotionally overwhelming. From one moment to the next, I literally
have no idea if I will be able to continue forward on any given day -- working or otherwise. I honestly have
no direction and diminishing reasons for trying. Perhaps the end is nigh.
And perhaps that fact will
help not just myself, but it may also free others of my ongoing difficulties.
Now that the endlessly
depressive preamble is out of the way, one point of order must be addressed. Back to Alexis and that void which
was touched upon some months ago. Since then, the issue has been pushed a step further and into the black hole
which represents my desire. In these late days, the combination of the obsession and the desire has spidered
out of manageable territory and become an insurmountable obstacle against which I continuously ram my sorry
head. There is no way up or around. Just nothing. And the lack of an outlet has become dire... bad things are
about to take place. They are on the doorstep and awaiting another questionable decision. None of this is
Alexis' fault. Everything is me.
And I will not survive without the resources necessary to force a
change. The upcoming excursion to the Sea (which I will touch upon further down the line) may be a great help
with clearing out all of the desirable aspects of daily life, but it could also be a complete disaster of
massive proportions when the memories begin to flood my head. The two of us are heading down there this month
to go on a photo tour of sorts. I am hoping that the trip will be therapeutic and helpful. If things can be
reorganized within my head, perhaps the desire and obsession will not be the end of me. Time will tell. As
for how that trip relates to the above misery, read on.
The Brunette displayed such an expression often
The beginning of the heartbreak during that week was before
we left the Brunette's cave and hit the road. A massive hole had developed between us, and part of the issue
with me was the aforementioned desire. Right now the desire is destroying me, and to head down the road to
one of the scenes of the many crimes and deal with the same lacking aspects of life seems a backward plan.
It is a backward plan, in fact, and one which may or may not lead to destruction. The brunette is going to be
swirling around my head constantly. Every step in and around those desperate locales is going to be filled
with memories of that wondrous time, but being there with someone else could actually be a great help. We will
be traveling together and creating different situations and feelings which can be brought home and considered,
rather than going alone and spiraling into a hole by retreading the past.
And the issues will be
following along.
The main deal here is the desire -- as outlined along with Alexis and her endlessly
hopeful eyes. That woman absolutely kills the camera in every conceivable way, and to see her smiling with
the devilish expressions and brutally gorgeous look places me within the desire every fucking time. And the
goddamned problems begin to roll up like a massive blanket attempting to hide a dead body.
So where
is the fucking majesty? Heh. Somewhere.
The trip has been chronicled here, but I never really
touched upon the physical aspect of the relationship at that time. The main point was to outline the drive and
places we visited, and how the landscape began to relate to our emotional condition and the state of our
romance. I will say that the desire was overwhelming at times (just as now), but we did not discuss the
subject very often due to all of the other issues at work. Now, of course, and in the midst of such fucked
up and pressing questions regarding my future, the trip may end up being the proverbial knife to send me
into the ground both mentally and emotionally. For some reason I am looking forward to hashing through many
of the thoughts which seemed unsolvable at the time, and it seems backward and ill-conceived. The visions
which float through my head from time to time are all rolled into the connectedness of everything placed in
this long writing, and the Sea seems a place where I may be able to sort through them. I just don't know.
I can be ready to travel, and I can be ready to climb into the lens again, but can I be ready
to attempt an organization of thoughts, dreams, and desires while wandering around that sad sea?
Perhaps I should be sure to pack the knife.
Playful... as defined by Michelle
The desire is something which I simply cannot get around
or ignore. I have been forced to do such things for years now, but just as I stated in the entry
which displays Alexis, shit is coming to a head at an alarming rate. The world beware. The
trip is going to come at a time when everything seems to be amplified since the previous outing, and
when I decided to lay everything out here. In the beginning, the ambiguity was extremely important
and I maintained some semblance of distance between the world in my head and the one which I publish.
As time goes by, things are not so simple, and to control the words in such a fashion is becoming
very difficult. Short of stating things with complete clarity, I will continue to broach each facet
here and there. I no longer have a choice.
So the fucking trip approaches at speed, and the
desire burns my being with a similar velocity. What to do? Walk into the salty, fish-laden Sea and
drown into one of the most endearing places I have ever seen? Become part of it? Die there? Or is
there a solution? One of these days I am going to search out and isolate all of the
questions placed within these writings and count them. Fuck. I am going to attempt to
focus upon the landscape and scenery, and try to capture details which may have been passed on the
first occasion. After perusing the maps and satellite images I have made somewhat of a schedule for
where to visit and when. January means the air will be mild and not as heavy as summer, and that
forecast matches the inside of my head.
Off we will go into the browns and grays, cameras
in hand. The previous trip was filled with turmoil and uncertainty while this trip will only hold
wonder and the aforementioned misery. I will turn it off during the day... night is another story.
Just as this very moment within the editor, it is present and making me uncomfortable. There is
no getting around it. Always there... always burning. Considering the goddess and related trials, the
Raven with her unending appeal, and the Brunette who became one of the most satisfying outlets ever,
I am now without any of them and left to wonder if this condition will serve to dominate eighteen.
The trip is just weeks away, and along with a new development on the homefront I may be able to
expand and consume... and holy shit is it ever needed. Help me, please. Option B is not pleasant.
Until such time as things clarify, the desire will attach itself to the obsession and
remain within like a storm awaiting physical destruction. The whole of it is my doing.
And it is growing.
And with so much emotion
Oak Street.
I walked out of the building,
carrying items to the vehicle. As I opened the door and stepped to the sidewalk, in front of me was
a startled young woman heading for the trash cans. I stopped to let her pass and said 'happy new
year'. She smiled and returned the expression, then continued about her business. I then said 'sorry
to have startled you.' She again smiled with lovely eyes and said 'no worries... have a good day'.
And then another... strolling toward me with phone in hand and headphones donned. She appeared to be
of Slavic descent and displayed a form seen in worldwide print. Ungodly legs, thin waist, and long
fingers. She looked up at me in passing as if I was evil incarnate, and paced her way past me. As
my eyes followed, I saw the form of the Israeli and proceeded to the vehicle with a drowning head.
The woman was art and I could do nothing about it. No QR card, no smile, no words.
No
nothing. Fuck me... again.
Her shape is still in there, too. It will not float away just as
so many others throughout the years. What a sight. As much as the goddess had provided, there was
still no realizing the dream at all. I never made it happen during all of those heavenly days
together. And then that incredible shape went by and left me deeply damaged for what seems the billionth
time. Normally I would sit here and attempt a description, but honestly what is the fucking point?
Thousands of lines of code have already been put forth to the world in search of the proper wording
to get something like that across, but I am afraid I just cannot any more. All of the time spent
considering such beauty and complex mathematics has resulted in exactly shit. Nothing can ever be
enough. And I wish I could have told her that. Perhaps the simplicity of a smile and a touch of
understanding would keep my sorry ass out of the fucking fire. Nope... nothing.
God damn
this feeling anyway.
Now all I have is the steadily increasing sunlight and decreasing
interest in trying. What about the cards? Well, several have been handed to others, but as of now
not one fucking word in my direction. I am not surprised... I wouldn't contact me either. New year,
new me? Hell no, the same old everything, and the same location in more ways than one. That walk past
me was something with which I cannot easily work. It just will not leave. Every detail, from her
compound inner thighs to her waistline which screamed at me to the fluidity of her motions, all of it
is now permanently burned into my deviant and damaged desire. And none of it is her fault. There can
be no responsibility anywhere for the fact that she looked like the Israeli. And did she ever
resemble that most figurative of models. The numbers may kill me.
Eyebrows of a goddess
The information in my head will follow along to the
incredible majesty that is the Sea. Remembering the previous visit to that wondrous place may help to ease the
difficulty with the desire, or it may not. The Brunette displayed all of it, too, and she was all
around me for days. But I knew her, and I was able to do as I wished much of the time while we were
calm. And that was before the goddess. So, with everything rolled into a painful ball in my brain,
the landscape is going to have to become paramount -- lest I lose it once and for all.
The young one also holds the numbers, and the desire is all over her. She will wander and shoot and
I will wander and wonder. Heh. I will wonder what is going to take place when the sum of me
crashes. Oak Street was a decent example of my inability to consume a vision and allow it to fly away.
Around the Sea, there will be only the young one near me and that should give me room. She
understands. I wish I did. That place is full of history... both good and bad. Such a fact aligns
with my current mindset, too. The past attempts to both understand and accept things over which I have
little or no control are attached to the issues which have grown within me over the years. The Raven
and the goddess helped me to find reasons, and both allowed everything -- including trying to
convince me that the obsession is not deviant, and the desire is natural. They spoke of those things
with tenderness and respect. The Sea is quiet enough so that all of it will doubtless swirl within me
and perhaps the landscape can help with some necessary organization. I am not certain, but the possibility
cannot be denied. Of course, that part of the state may also press me into a small place and cause
nothing but damage. Hmm. We shall see shortly.
Visions, visions, and more visions. That
woman on Oak... fuck.
This outlet is all I have at the moment. And for the time being it
will have to be enough. The thoughts of the trip are good, and combined with personal exploration
the sum may prove fruitful for the future. If I can get that damned sight out of my head things can
be sorted to a degree, too. There will certainly be no one in that area to compare. Palm Desert is
quite affluent, although keeping my eyes in the viewfinder should isolate temporarily. And as for the
Sea and its surroundings, well, no worries there. I just need to focus on the necessities and keep
my head in the work. The comfort of the young one will be there, as well. She is one of the few saving
throws versus difficulty that I have left, aside from memories.
I do love the fact that I am
not going to that haunting place alone. The idea of being there by myself with no schedule whatsoever
leads me to believe that I would likely end up heading toward the goblet for lack of a better outlet.
The Sea can captivate and grapple my attention, and being there with another means I will have a second
soul with which to contend. And that also means somewhat of a plan from one day to the next. That is
good, and will keep me from wandering into places I should avoid.
Yes... eyebrows I was unable to resist
Oak Street? Still there, still steaming in my brain. She
will not soon go away. Yes, she will even be in there while among the tilapia and palms (remember those
early entries?). The lens will do its best to capture the majesty that is the Sea. And I will do my
best to avoid dropping off the edge of the world. The young one and the camera may combine to keep me
steady in thought, or the past will overtake me and leave me trembling in her arms -- again. Who knows
which? No one.
Despite the possible ramifications, I am going to that part of the state
to help organize and come to terms with all that took place during those months of ten and eleven. If
the Sea speaks to me the way it did on the first trip, I will be returning here with a head full of
material for entries. Otherwise, things may not turn out so well for anyone involved. I have been there
and seen the beauty and the majesty. I have experienced the entire area, from the wildlife refuge to the
south, and all the way to the north tip at Coachella and Thermal. I have taken in everything the Sea has
to offer, shot and captured thousands of images and scenes from her shores, walked Salvation Mountain,
and witnessed the devastation left in the wake of so many uncaring souls. I became a part of the Sea
during that long trip, and brought back with me an understanding of the losses and isolation.
To return there is frightening and exciting.
I will go and walk the shores again. The young
one will experience that desolation for the first time and bring it into her lens. We will explore
the surrounding areas in earnest and in search of some semblance of comfort. The trip will hopefully
allow me some closure to that long excursion with the Brunette, and may even help me to let go of
a portion of the misery. Maybe. Maybe not.
Gazing and smelling the Sea again may also kill
me once and for all."
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
