January 25th, 2021 8:47am pst

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In Tenebris Est

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"Still 1-22. Back again due to my head being unable to leave anything alone these days.

All the fucking entries since I ceased linking weeks ago are now linked and live, for whatever that may be worth. In the future, one word criticizing my decisions to publish or not, or even a fraction of a thought taking issue with what I write will result in the entire fucking site disappearing. Shut the fuck up if you want to read what is displayed here. I have no qualms about making my work or myself fucking scarce. Try me. I have nothing to lose. And I don't give a fuck the motivation or person. Everyone is lumped into the same filthy fucking category as of this morning. Now I am angry and it will not pass because I will not allow it.

Enough of that. Pissed off.

I mentioned stretching my birthday out a few more days. I am going to do it. The idea may be all that I have left in this world. Time will tell if I'm around for the next one, so pushing this a little seems a good idea. Even more than it did yesterday or this morning.

A movie this morning which began rather intriguing and funny ended up kind of funny at times along with forcing me to realize that my head is worse than previously calculated. Surprising? Yes and no. I have no confidence in my ability to rise above and just be me. Not anymore. One scene in particular which made me laugh carried with it an underlying layer of fear. Being alone combined with the fact that no one else has any idea of what I was watching means there is a degree of safety involved, but still... A little notch down which relates directly to the stark truth of not knowing what another person is thinking. Just another fucking impossibility which leaves me on the floor all the time. I cannot know, so the trust must take place. ANOTHER IMPOSSIBILITY. Too much has transpired in the last ten years for me to simply let go and allow it to happen. No fucking way.



Nadiuska

Nadiuska and Jorge


Look at Nadiuska. She was only thirty when that film was shot.

Today I intend to do the usual weekday routine and then further in the garage. There are many details I can work through to improve the space. You know... Boxes which have sat idle for years. Hopefully the weather will warm a bit because the light rain and wind are killing me. Very cold out there. If I stay busy, warmth will be forthcoming. Within the house I can free up space by selling the drums and moving some shit around. For whatever reason, the empty space is very appealing these days. Funny, by the time Spring arrives, the 'spring cleaning' may be finished. Heh. Whatever. I need to keep my head out of the sex and shit situations in life or I will not only be cold, I'll be more angry. Busy is good.

Bad mood. I may have to dash out and pick up the goddess. She is at work and not well. Oy, but I will always help her no matter the circumstances. Pause.

Er... Stop.

1-23. Saturday already.

I really did not wish to carry yesterday's shit through to this morning but here I am, exactly the same. After grabbing her and doing my best to make her warm and comfortable here a while, the thinking went downward yet again, and that with the show up there for hours. Again. Fucking... Again. Tired of it.

Tired of it, but still happening. Back into the wind and the blue dress... Empty. Remember? Sad.

Saturday. What does that mean? Anything? My head is not on straight this morning despite the coffee. Becoming unclear now, just like 'caverns'. Falling down. Floating below my expected line of thinking. Unclear. Losing it again... Wind? There is no wind. Rain? There is no rain. What is out there?

My hearing is getting worse.

The lawn out back has been littered with beer cans many times, but not lately. I have not felt the same. But yesterday I thought of tossing one bottle to the grass (what there is of it these days) due to thinking of the idea that I am really falling down... Honestly losing it. I wanted to throw the bottle. I really did. Years ago when I was having a bad day I generally cranked the music in the garage and did some work while drinking beer. Then the cans flew out to the lawn one by one. That was a demonstration of my mood, but in the end meant absolutely nothing and resulted in exactly zero other than my cleaning up the mess. My behavior accomplished little more than informing others that I was unhappy. Kind of stupid. I did it anyway. Now? Everything shows up here in one way or another, and usually very unclear, like my brain.

Sad.

Demonstrating my dissatisfaction with some aspect of life in such a manner is ridiculous. I will not be doing that anymore. I have other ways of communicating my shit.

Where is the wind? Another countdown might be necessary. I feel very bad this morning, as if the whole world went aslant during the night and left me feeling a lack of importance. Yesterday I was happy to care for her part of the day. I don't mind because I do care and my schedule is usually pretty damned open. Heh. Anyway, by the end of the day she became a little emotional and I felt like I needed to be alone with my chores. I dropped her off and returned here to the routine, which did not take very long. And then into the evening with the television in the kitchen glowing with my show. I felt relaxed but some worry for her remained through dinner. This morning? Fallen again. Down. I slid, but have no idea of why. The outlook is frightening now.

What happened? Dreams? I don't recall any. That does not mean none took place, though. I simply feel 'bad'.

The flu or the flue? Heh. The supplier yesterday put me in mind of plumbing and then a reference in one of the word games on my phone put the two together. Kind of funny. No wind. I feel bad right now. Supposed to go visit her in a few hours and continue the vanity project but I don't know if I can do anything until this cloud of gray passes. Flue. Word play. I don't know what to do. In a little bit I'll have to get stuff ready for her to leave for work. At least that will be something to do for a little while before taking off to visit the other her. Confusing? There are only two other people in my life these days, so keep track. Pay no attention to the lack of wind. The water will true the situation. True it... Concentricity. Live center. Three-jaw. Tool post. Lock and spin. Get it?

Something will come along and drive my purpose again, hopefully soon. I don't like this feeling at all. The light is coming up out there. No beer cans. Do you see the aspect ratio of her images? Film, back many years ago. 2.39:1, if I remember correctly. Scope. The dramatic, sprawling width of old theatres. Unfortunately, the film cannot bring me purpose. I let that one go like the blue dress in the wind. The dress is empty. Leaves blowing. Nothing else out there. No beer cans. I don't find it necessary anymore. What I do find necessary is feeling as if I have a reason (or reasons) to be up and about in the morning, and as if there are things I am supposed to accomplish throughout a given day. I have not felt this out of sorts in a very long time. Something has to snap me out of it.

The blue dress in the wind... No one in there. It looks lifeless and without animation. I don't like this at all, yet nothing before me is lit enough to locate a direction. I don't have a clue. The light is up enough to show me that there is no wind. And now I cannot even see the dress.

Where is everything? Did that countdown come to pass or not? I don't remember at all. No static, no memory. Nothing. This concern may ruin an otherwise wide-open day. Damn it anyway. I cannot let slip the problems, either. Perhaps holding everything inside is the problem? The last time I opened the doors I regretted it within moments. I can't have that again. Maybe I should ignore the dress? Blue, so pretty. The arch, remember? Dirt. All over the place, yet again.

No wind, no water. Just fog hanging there halfway down the hills like a blanket of cool.

The line, the green, the dirt. There is the water, dripping from above. Rifles. I cannot have the pushing any longer or I will lash, thrash, and then dash. No one wishes such behavior. My fault? I have no idea. No more pushing, recommendations or anything designed to change my thinking. Fucking stop it immediately or live the consequences. The dirt... The blue dress in the dirt. Arched. Green again. Red and green, but not THAT red and green. Not the lamps over there glowing. Ugh. Christmas is done again, as is the new year and my birthday. That is the line. We are now on the other side and the wonder is gone. Fucking gone for months. Will we make it to another season? The line, the red and green, the dirt. Blue dress, dirty now. No wind.

The lines out front, leading.
Smoke behind, while bleeding.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Lash... Thrash... Dash.

Something had better be out there, damn it all. I searched and searched for a very long time and saw plenty but knew nothing was real. Out there? Really? Where? And what is it, exactly? Do you know? Must I go back to the fiction and be shot in the head again by that gunman? Or burned? Off the roof for the tenth time? I don't know what to do. I have to alleviate this feeling today or I will quickly lose yet another day after many thousands have passed into history. Lost for all time and never to return. The glow, the drives, the smiling... All gone for good and there is nothing I can do about it. None of it. The blue dress must remain in my vision for the time being so I can connect the dots and figure this out, once and for all. I have to. There is nothing else anymore. Pause.

Afternoon now. A beautiful lunch and drive later, I am the same. Up... Down. And then somewhere else, never to be understood. Nothing there... Just thinking and wondering and regret.

Storms coming, I believe. Rain and wind. Very nice for the atmosphere inside my fucking head.

Those women that the Ferengi possess in the Delta Quadrant are going to be on the screen soon. If I recall, one is artwork. I can't remember precisely though as most of them disappear very quickly these days. I was just speaking about the fact at lunch earlier. They look nice with the silly costuming anyway.

Wind again. Just wind from over there. Black inside. Burned and worn... Decaying. Mustard and pumpkin.

The surface is secure. Inside is off limits. We have arrived at the future of the moment and the forest baby-step will advance slightly. Stop.

1-25.

Ahh... Yesterday. Two football games (mostly), lunch and some relaxing. My head is still somewhat uncomfortable due to the return of our lateral issue, although the process of having it completely replaced has begun. Now we simply have to remain vigilant and careful. One of these days the guys will come and thrash the thing. I look forward to everything draining properly once again. After the punch two months ago I figured we were ok for a year or more before any problems arose. Well, I was wrong. The damage underground is obviously worse than either of us figured, and my friend who did the work also seems surprised. Oh well, one step at a time. We are in emergency mode for a while.

The worry over that issue is the least of my concerns now, however. Yesterday I ended up dredging some shit which would have been better left alone for the time being. I started to lose it a bit. After realizing my head was about to ruin everything, I ceased and relaxed for the remainder of the day. Mustard and pumpkin all over again. Such is me. One more day of my favorite sport in two weeks and then nothing until fall. I don't know if the good outweighs the bad or not. I just don't fucking know anymore. The problem arose when I became worried and threatened -- quite often the main catalyst for much of my antisocial behavior and closing off -- but instead of just sitting quietly I decided to open my mouth. Fortunately, I reigned myself back in before anything terrible took place. Considering the state of this house right now coupled with my distinct lack of resources these days, I cannot just throw myself at another person and repeat the past. I must remain here, available, and make nice no matter how much churning is going on inside. I turned off the shit, sat and smiled again (eventually), and the day went along pretty much fine. Later I slipped out and returned home, after which I had a little time to proofread while the exchange swirled in my head. Booze, too. Big fucking surprise.

Boats. Water. Wind... Still.

Lots of wind this morning. Just as the storm inside me, I see everything flying around out there in the yard like thoughts in my brain. Spinning, floating, flying, falling... This will continue until my last days, guaranteed. Even if I can muster the will to discuss the problem with another person, I am convinced nothing will help because the underlying cause cannot be removed. There is only one way...

Stone. Up, down. Up and then down. Staying down. No up.

She is out there and I need to love her. The only way.

I don't even know what I'm doing here anymore. Years of continuously bitching (analyzing?) have accomplished little and solved less. The images never help, my words repeat almost daily now, and the very idea that remaining at this shit for more years seems futile. Nothing has been improved at all. The only up is the IDE itself, and that was not me. All I did was frame, format and type... The typing is useless.

Flame and smoke in the eyes. The bleach box is gone forever. The eyes know, far away. They know. Lit and broken. Lit.

Take off, pull the strike.
Watch the trees, poles alike.

Today is just a typical weekday after a weekend I do not wish to recall right now. I have my routine, altered as it must be due to the drain issue (I can get around it because I am intelligent and fluent with thinking on my feet), and then perhaps a bit of organization again. I missed it all weekend. There is much leftover when I skip a day or two, so in a little while I will cocoon myself with the show and straighten the house. I also have some dry cleaning. Laundry is going to be interesting because I do not wish to let the washer pump into the waste line, instead opting for it to let go in the yard. Our detergent is environmentally friendly, too, meaning I will not be violating any statutes by running the drain outside. Considering all that shit I went through for the gray water irrigation system years ago -- investigation of rules and regulations; codes related to plumbing, gray water and rain runoff; meetings with the county health department -- I actually know what is allowed and what should be avoided. I intend to do as much laundry as is necessary and watching the drained water flow across the front lawn. It will be entertaining. Other than the chores mentioned, I may list a couple of items for auction. A typical day, even with our lateral all fucked up. Heh. The inside of my head is not good, but I have little choice in the matter these days. More information stuffed somewhere in my brain.

My decision to release material previously hidden is beginning to irritate me. I left things unavailable to prove a point and exercise my unfair control issue. Well, I gave in to pressure and tossed everything out there for the world to see. Now I don't know what to think. If anyone decides to comment, they had better be careful. My tolerance level for that sort of thing is at an all-time low. Just leave it if you know what's good for you. Whatever. This is mine anyway.

Rope. Air. Fall. Blood.

One over there and the other over there. The water runs off the edge again. Remember?

The beginning has died. The end is in charge.

One to the left, providing the heft...
One to the right, all pleasantries and light.

Platitudes be damned... All of them. Fuck off.

I believe I have a plan. The laundry sink can be a buffer to allow the washer to pump at its limit, and I can run a line off that drain into the yard. There will be no need for a trap because I am bypassing the main sewer. I will have to go to the hardware for some fittings and glue, too. On top of that, the sink will then be used for washing dishes. There are both hot and cold lines to the laundry sink. Very good. Interesting, don't you think? From females and issues to drain problems in the space of one entry. Heh. A project, and the type of which is very necessary right now, or at least until the lateral is replaced. Damn, but this coffee is strong. Sumatra. Good stuff but I am not used to it anymore. Oy. Whatever. Coffee is coffee. Once it is gone I will kick into gear.

I have the show on for comfort and one cat is next to me.



Nadiuska and Jorge

Nadiuska


Control over everything possible. I need it to survive. Those issues over which I hold none may get the best of me, though. As much as I believe I can't have anything like that, they just keep rolling over my head on a daily basis. Uncomfortable, worrisome, and frightening. I cannot know what goes on inside which results in the only option, and that is to trust. But I cannot. Not now. It's not in me anymore. So sad.

Water out there, flowing as it will.
Thoughts in here, growing ever still.

Pull and strain, pressure sans gain.
Pain and draw, the mercy of the maw.

I don't know what to do anymore. So tired of trying. Just so fucking tired.

I am in control of this day, God damn it. Control, where I need to be. I am in control of this day.

She is out there."



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