February 4th, 2021 9:14am pst

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The Other Side

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"2-3.

The trailing image in the last entry really smacked me in the brain. Her position damned-near sums up a sizable portion of issue one. The fact is, the way her knees are paired leaves the upper thigh gap apparent, and then coupled with the converging/diverging radii both above and below the little oval which is her sex actually illustrates what I have been trying to understand for ten fucking years. Well, whatever. Some will enjoy those types of images while others will not, I am certain. The point is they are here for me to see, not readers. They can go get their own shit and put it all on their own sites. All bitching aside, there have been fewer images so revealing in recent months, and I will say they are going to be even less so in the coming months. The idea has been shoved down throats enough already. For now, I cropped it somewhat in order to push focus upon the area in question. I don't give half a shit about what anyone thinks, either. The issue has become a study. I need to understand and still do not. And don't give me a blast over the fact that she is nearly nude. I know there is the whole sex thing apparent, but if you think that's the point after all this time, the hour may be nigh for you to go elsewhere and read. I'm not fuckin' around here, damn it.

There is another image -- this time only in my memory -- from my long past, and it is similar to the crop below, but sideways. My eyes were right there, more than thirty years ago, and for whatever reason I stared for quite a while to see as much detail as possible. Her underwear was blue, her skin tanned. I gazed and gazed and she let me. I flipped my position to opposite hers to move in as closely as possible. Yep, that far back in history may have been the first time I tried to understand why those curves were so beautiful. I was drawn heavily.

Switchy, switch switcheroo.

I keep thinking of what Angie did in that movie. Was it yesterday? The day before? I think it was yesterday morning. I love her. She is always full of talent and very beautiful, although the incident is causing me to disregard her in the future. The scene was written by someone else, possibly storyboarded, too, and then shot and the film moved along as it did. Angie is not the problem, just the hood ornament. Society and the fucking sheep who inhabit such are the problem. All of them. Yes, you too.

Sometimes the compulsion takes over and I gush.

A tiny bit of light discerning the trees from the black. Switchtrack again.

I am certain my reaction to society's direction in the last few decades had a hand in shaping me, but at the same time I have to admit I am part of the problem. My thinking becomes dire quite often due to overanalyzing even the simplest exchange between myself and someone else. Little things, like a reference to my past -- the type of which people are not even aware will cause difficulty -- come across quickly and with sufficient power so as to render me completely floored. Little, but almost immediately crippling as they expand inside. That is my doing even if my coping mechanisms have been affected by those situations lying outside my sphere of control. I know what I am doing during those moments. I really do. The fear creates a space within which whatever took place becomes embedded, and then my high-speed calculations rip it to pieces so I can see each aspect and then react accordingly. This type of thing has resulted in my remaining away from as many people as possible. I can't deal with it -- or them -- very well these days.

Another push toward the other side of whatever the fuck this world has become. And I am not referring to China, dipshits. Not that 'other side'. Get your fucking heads out of your asses.



945

Jesus


And here we fucking go again... The imagery will not leave and I am stuck on pause. Not happy right now. The control must be omnipresent or there can be nothing else. Nothing. Mired, as always. Tumblers... Timing... All of the shit I generally spout here has left me a pile of uncomfortable worry. Get the fuck out of my head, please. I'm so tired of this. The machine comes to mind after sitting completely disregarded and full of worry, and the drop continues right into the fucking ground due to the machine being impossible. Splendid.

Eh... Fuck that whole situation for the time being. And pause.

Now the day is all me. Empty house, few chores, lots of thinking. I need to get into the damned office and move some things around, and today may be perfect. Due to the schedule, I have much more time in the afternoon before any noise for the evening. I intend to do my best in getting that area in order prior to lunch. Other crap in and around my usual stuff will likely pop up as I move about the house this morning.

Wow. Just... Wow. Other people are apparently not thinking of possible consequences to speaking to me as if I am just a utility. Hmm... I'll have to calculate the best avenue right now. As much as I am willing to make others despise me, I need some things these days which means making nice. Time will pass. More planning. Go ahead and irritate me today. Try it. I really don't need any shit from any direction.

Jesus, between that last crap and the issues above, I'm pretty damned proud of myself for not pushing back or otherwise speaking my mind in the worst way. That first paragraph after the image of Ester is enough these days. Some pushing will result in very bad situations coming out of nowhere. I'm ready to show everyone the view of looking through the glass toward me in the forest, however that is going to require time. Lots of time. Wait for it. And then wait more.

I need to be on the other side of the glass, away from those people, close people, and the rest of the fucking people who have proven their worth through centuries of apathy. All of them must end up on one side while I reside on the other. The glass is right there, too. Separation means many things -- most being positives -- the most important of those is being left the fuck alone. Stop.

2-4.

I fell off the edge yesterday. No control over much of anything these days. Daily life is now so fucking solidified that a change could be life-threatening. I'm not joking, either. I have become all but cemented in this routine, and other than ceasing the drives to the south four days per week, nothing has been altered. To fall down like I did and pile the idea on top of those mounting problems inside? Not good. I can't have that these days. Not if I am going to come out the other side of the long season. I believe either heading all the way back and diving full-steam into the past or living completely inside the fantasy is the only way now. If I can successfully keep myself out of the real world as much as possible, those drops off a cliff may be minimized. Yesterday proved to me that no matter my feelings or fleeting strength, there will still be times when the power takes me from myself. Again, partly my fault. I really have to think about this crap today. Each occasion knocks me down further.

Speaking of today and for whatever reason, I am really looking forward to some hours here. I have things to move around, some cleaning, and then on to the new office for furthering that project while the weather is agreeable. It's been chilly out there, but as long as the sun is shining I can work. The kitchen also needs some attention, and lately that has become my favorite place to spend time during the day. I know not why, but I can say that the television in there is a big part of it.



949

Oh, Jamie


I was in the yard yesterday having a cigarette and a thought popped into my head as if it had been awaiting a calm moment to attack me. When it did, I knew the bottom line of this dream world which cannot come to pass is a pull beyond myself. There is no being clear here right now, so just stick it. The fact is the wants and needs overpower me at times and there is not another living soul out there in the world who can do a damned thing about it. Not possible, unavailable, or whatever you wish to call it, the idea of me being where I need and with what I need just will not happen. We can speak about it until blue in the face and nothing will change, and that includes the two, which I actually promised to speak of. Well, it doesn't matter because I will end up in a small space, all alone, and with my little pile of issues right there on my lap. I will be on the other side of existence from everyone. Me and my bags of shit. I will quote the female version of myself:

'Who says there is no value in cheap hooch? Me, a few months ago. This evening's festivities are slow and mellow -- perfect for our favorite damaged writer. Nice and cozy in the recliner with whiskey and laptop. This is the Friday I have wanted for weeks but could not achieve.

Oh, I am certain the comfort and joy will wear off soon and give way to the dark side, but until then I am going to roll with it. The dark side cannot be removed and the fun knoweth. The Reiko knoweth. We ALL knoweth (especially after years of drunken and suicidal blogs). Thy end be known, young girl who reeks of old woman. Old, tired, beaten woman with those bags so heavy. Bags filled with shit and sludge and detritus from decades past. Bags with locks so tight that no one should unlock them. Bags, forever.

Just bags.

Until the bags are illuminated and the fun is shot to death, the evening is nice.'

-- April 16, 2010, from the blog of the time

A small space for me and my crap. That is all. No one else allowed in. And when I feel this way the house tends to improve because the drive to minimize all of the things I own is overpowering. Everything begins to compact and shrink, leaving me with only the necessities and a few frivolous items here and there. The shit forest feeling comes along and piles on top of my already 'outside' mood and then stuff flies out the door. In the back of my mind I know possessing less crap will be helpful later when no one else can deal with my personality anymore. Having all kinds of shit hanging off of me is a hindrance. Things go and I feel lighter of mind.

So, thinking about the fall yesterday and my desire to be in complete control of a mechanized woman seem to push me in directions which end up assisting day-to-day life. Funny? I suppose. I don't feel like laughing, though. I just want to step through... The glass. I need to be on the other side of all those moments, connections and decisions which have left me void of hope. And away from all those people who do nothing but cause problems. Whether or not the reactions have been my doing, they still catalyze and don't care. Well, I have to be away. Hence the 330.

I do not claim to know everything, believe it or not, but I do know myself better than anyone. The fact is I am critical of myself (like many other people, I'm sure), too. Everything. Even the typographical errors which show up here. The knowledge of myself means I know what is required for me to enjoy life from this point forward. Reality is not it. Not even close. Dreams, the glow, the machine, and those little things I still smile about these days are all that I have left. Well, and this crap, but you knew that. The glow keeps coming back because of the films -- they pushed me to recall the theatres and times when all of them were released, in addition to where I was in life at the time. Every single segment of my world was different, even myself. I did not think so much or in similar terms. Nothing felt dire, the time seemed just fine, and I never felt as if anything was 'coming to an end' as I do now. As I said, I don't know much, but what I am certain of is the idea that I am worsening over the past and the knowledge that what I need cannot happen. The problem yesterday was a symptom of it all. Believe it.

And don't look there for the glass. It's too clean to see, but believe me... There is a divider.

Maybe I should discontinue the exploration (or attempts thereof) of the center of the universe displayed beautifully just below this section. I cannot learn anything. Do you see the woman? She is lovely, as are her individual features. The little garment is exaggerated by the position of her legs, and all those radii are in what I refer to as the 'secondary' position. If she were standing, the radii would be more at rest and more apparent, but she is wearing something which provides some contrast. All up and down her legs... Beautiful smoothness, everything else being out there on display. Well, I look there and I don't get it. The continuation of me attempting to understand why the imagery has gone from attractive to overwhelming and tormenting is still not within my grasp. Six years as of last month have seen me gushing and bitching, and here I sit exactly the fucking same as that first image and my feelings toward the entire subject.



950

Still a problem


Almost my time. Pause.

My time will not be mine. She is remaining home due to not feeling well. The day will hardly change for me. All of the same chores and projects will be completed by close of business, and perhaps two items listed for sale. I purchased a few things for better organization in my tool chest and wish to offset the cost by bringing in some cash. Plus, I love watching the auctions play out. Always enjoyable. As for the remainder of my day as not being so quiet, I can deal with it. The other side will still be there.

I might pull the labia images from two entries. They are irritating me and could cause backlash. I can't have that kind of thing on this site.

Maybe gushing about the two will indeed help me. I honestly don't give a fuck if the recipient of my words -- be it a person out in the world or a therapist -- becomes enlightened due to my revealing the inner most worry. I just cannot care at all because the entire affair is in dealing with what happens inside me, not them. The time is too short, anyway, and as such may add to how I am viewed later than 330 days from now. That could actually be a good outcome whether or not any of it helps me as much. But I am uncertain. The main concern is how I will be viewed AFTER such an event. I cannot feel ridicule or embarrassment, for the resulting fall will affect everyone who is even slightly familiar with me. As of this morning, I am on the fence, centered.

Cold outside, no wind. I can hear the waves crashing since the ocean is right down the street. And speaking of the street, I mentioned quite a while back that the end of the most important street in my life has been lit up like Las Vegas Boulevard on a warm summer night. Illuminated, and not good. Ever since those frightening dreams that date all the way back to my single-digit years, the image of something terrifying down the proverbial street has followed me through each different period of my life. Day after day I recall standing next to some kind of street sign and seeing the other side as safer, but never took a step off the curb. I was too scared to do anything and basically froze there in hopes that whatever was to my right would not advance toward and destroy me. The other side was always there, and with it a feeling of comfort and security, but I could not move. The other side.

Now?

I still wish to be over there and it looks the same as fifty years ago, the only difference being the glass as a separation from all I am now mired within. [Wow, another shot at my psyche with an image within an ad on the television just now which harks back to the fucking championship weekend. I didn't need that, but at least no one knows what the memory does to me.] The glass keeps me from the other side. Or? Perhaps the other side is not real and I am in the process of creating yet another fantasy which will only press me further down. I don't fucking know anymore. And just out of curiosity, I ran a site-wide search and learned that the previous sentence contains the 3476th occurrence of the word 'fucking'. Wow, I swear quite a bit. Anyway, the other side -- real or otherwise -- has become a focal point this day. A big one.

Normally by this time of morning I would be alone and likely sitting with this for a while longer, after which the routine would kick off with my surrogate family keeping me company. Well, I suppose everything can still move along like any other day, the only difference being some noise to which I am not accustomed during the week. I can work with it, though.



951

Look at the brightness in her smile. Wow


Is the other side really there? Or am I imagining it?

Nothing is certain anymore, not even my own dreams. Another little push this morning courtesy of an image of a woman in a bikini from a shopping site, standing very tall and unbelievably attractive. It's just the swimsuit, too. They are advertising the suit and she is the model. No name, no nothing. But I ran across it on one of the sites I frequent which is full of women, technology, and other interesting things. It was right there, I reversed the search and found a higher resolution copy, and now cannot understand the feelings related to the obsession. Would the other side be any easier? Or would I simply stand there against the glass and still gaze as always? I don't know, but the pull inherent in her shape is nearly too much to bear these days. I have not learned to deal with it. Not even a baby step. Fuck me. Maybe I'll place her image here at a later time so others can see. What does that even mean anymore? Does anyone care?

The other fucking side. Glass, and a separation from those people. Isolated, alone, and full of bliss. Really?

Right over there, yet millions of miles away, if real at all. I don't know, but I need it. I suppose in the meantime I will continue with my efforts in shrinking everything just in case. Selling, tossing, whatever. Lots of things can go out the door one way or another. The smaller my footprint, the more likely I can run if and when the possibility comes to light. I need this like I need to be on the opposite side of that Goddamned glass. It is a window into comfort of mind. Hopefully, anyway. On this side I have that fucking option of gushing everything, yet still I am apprehensive. One smidgen of anything out of sorts from any direction and I will explode. No one wants that, and the result will be my dire need to get the fuck away from everyone and everything. If not available, the only other avenue is not good, to say the least. Very unfortunate, that thought. I believe my best path right now is to view the other side as real, yet unattainable for the time being. It will be there, and I will continue in my typical weekday vein.

The immense fear of a giggle is beginning to cripple my head.

I am in control of this day.

330 is here and she is out there."



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