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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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