06-05-2020 05:34 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Expansion read ( words) "I woke this morning thinking that if the time and date had been set wrong on the camera, perhaps the trip did not take place as displayed. Maybe I can search more. Search. Hmm. That is an interesting word right now. Yesterday was very different. The day felt slow, for some reason. I kept looking across the street as people walked by going on about their business as if I was going to see her over there. I really did that. I looked, and every now and then a person's shoes made enough noise to cause me to turn and then a tiny, fleeting thought that she could be one of them. I am crazy. Searching, dreaming, yearning. Crazy. What the fuck kind of force in nature could cause the duchess to appear right down my driveway? Crazy. I kept looking anyway from time to time, just in case. The sheer gravity on me right now is unreal. Nothing is above her at all, not even my precious routine and little world that has been created out of an enormous need to be in the familiar. The fact that I look out there in search of her is unreal... Even for me. I am always searching for something. All over the place. Shapes, forms, you know. Decades. I mentioned the other day that on my drive north I spotted a girl near the beach. Well, they will always be out there, I may or may not see them, but my feelings about what I see are changing. When I saw that artwork in yoga pants with everything on display, I kept glancing when possible so that I could catch a glimpse of her face. Yep, not breasts, legs, rear... Her face. Why? The face is always key, but on that occasion -- just like looking down the driveway -- I was looking for her. That's right, kids, yours truly has altered the endless search and is now on the lookout for the goddess of the universe. And what are the odds that she will appear in the future? I cannot even begin to calculate, however the number is very high because I am nuts, weakened, and further out of balance than even that first sight of her image just days ago. I am actually actively looking for her. My search which has been in mind for years has now expanded to include the woman I do not know but love. Another that I do not know. But she is different. The turmoil and concern inside are not over the appearance of her thighs, those phantom numbers, or the lack of any study related to beauty, they are due to a lack of her. She is out there, but I know not where. She is ten years older, as am I. She could be from anywhere, living anywhere. I have moved twice since then. Has she moved? Do you see where this is heading? She is out there. Today I am back to the norm of the weekday. Housework, trips to the garage, television keeping me company, and whatever little things I wish to get done throughout the day. The early morning has been peaceful. Just me and the cats and the coffee. I am hoping to dig into a couple of items which have been left alone far too long. Time will tell. This morning represents yet another in which I do not remember dreaming at all. Normally one of those mansions or searches will pop up every few days, but now I lost count of the days since I last entered one of those big places. She could be having an effect, or something else, or possibly nothing at all. I don't know. I am certain I do not miss them, though. More confusion has ensued after seeing those dreams than almost anything else in my life. Except her. Well, you know. I will be sitting out there later when I take a break or three and watching the street like always. I need to unroll my older posters and refresh my memory before making plans to redecorate the space. I am having trouble concentrating on those little things because normally my head is accustomed to being thrown for a loop at night by one issue or another. Now, I am not feeling it. I just think about her and the huge hole in me that has formed in less than a week. No dreams, but still a dream. What? Whatever. I am going to miss Briana's facial expression. The idea that her eyes and mouth are the largest pull among all of the other images is nuts. It has to go, however, along with all of the others. Concentration, indeed. I keep thinking of her standing there in her sandals, hair in the breeze. And then when I go into how beautiful she was in that courtyard, I have to stop myself. Over and over and over I ping-pong my way along a path of thoughts, back and forth from dreamy-mushy-goo-goo brain on one side, and across to sensible I-need-to-focus-on-maintaining-my-sanity-or-I-might-flip-the-fuck-out on the other. But I can't help it. I am losing out to visions of her turning her head to face me and my fucking head exploding at the sight. I can only wish. I have been wishing for days. Concentration, damn it. Removing her image from my head is not easy and requires something pretty fucking complex or difficult to take over my thinking. There are plenty of things I could get into right now -- like working out some technical issues on my never-ending truck -- although I have to actually do them. I have to find a way to begin a process in order to pass the feelings for her to the side and concentrate. There is that word again. I've done it on several occasions since the outset of the pandemic, mostly back toward the beginning when something inside me caused a a change and then I flipped the fuck out and became pretty angry at how the stress had been controlling me. Well, I put a stop to that, so perhaps I can rise enough to shelve her image and get the dreams of that face out of my head long enough to enjoy a day or two without issue. Perhaps. Elizabeth on the screen. There is something wrong with her face. I can't put my finger on it, though. Maybe just her expression. She is the type that looks super cute while smiling, but then hideous if showing anger or while displeased with something. Heh. One end of the scale or the other. I am still going back and forth despite myself. Trying, but this is not easy. I need that woman. I need to know her and see her. I also need to stop saying that so often. This can drive me out of my mind if I am not careful. In the past, and as an actual grown adult, I have become so nuts over a woman that I drew her name a hundred different ways. I even made one into a maze to be solved. The end of the maze -- the prize -- was her last initial. Heh. One time I became so enthralled by a young girl after meeting with her only twice that I had the inside of a ring inscribed with her first name. Lonely? Desperate? Clingy? Well, look at me now after all of the shit behind me in life, to react this way over a fucking image from ten years ago and then spend day after day writing, dreaming, and yearning for a woman who may or may not exist anymore. I am ridiculous, and I know it. Out of balance. I think the heat these past few days has roasted my brain. Broiled. And the weather this close to the ocean does not even heat very much compared to other cities. Well-done. I should have one of those little wooden steak 'doneness' sticks in my ear. Laugh. Now. I am. Ok, so I have made it clear that this is a problem but I am not doing anything to alleviate the difficulty. That is because I have become so very weak in these late days and likely could not reason my way out of an argument with a two-year-old. I cannot change anything right now because I need to think of her... I have to see her face when I close my eyes or I will become upset. The day's tasks and my little breaks and lunch will come around, I'll take care of everything as needed for the house and my comfort, all the while that woman will be following along as I picture her right next to me over and over again. I know, don't say it. Ga ga, for the millionth time. Back to the concentration. I can get there. One step at a time. Jaime is so beautiful. The feeling toward this woman has all but disappeared This morning down the road. We stood outside the car for a few minutes. I watched people come and go like always, those grabbing coffee or visiting the ATM. We always take a little break there and talk before I return north. Today was different. Oh, we stood and discussed whatever we discussed, but then a car pulled up to the coffee house and a mother and daughter exited in their matching masks to approach the counter. [Currently, people cannot enter the coffee house. They are stopped at the door, place an order, and then keep distance until they are called. Such is the world now.] The daughter looked intriguing at the outset of them stepping to the doors. I tried to see her more clearly, but alas there were too many obstructions. Not a big deal, really. I returned my attention, swung my head back to the left, and then my morning collapsed in on itself. A woman had parked around the corner from the market there -- to the left and quite a distance from the main entrance -- and walked past the coffee house while I stared. As I sit here typing, I cannot recall the last time I saw such form. I lost it for a little while and had to right myself as best I could in order to carry on the conversation. And that was a futile effort. My very first thought? Maybe that was her. Here we go with expansion of the most desperate search imaginable. Yes, I am looking for her. Everywhere. Jesus Harold fucking Christ on a snowplow in Winter, I could not believe it. Amazing. Wondrous. Unreal. Stunningly beautiful in her graceful motions. Jaime. Long legs, flowing hair, and nearly all of the time my words fucking fail over and over. I try. I keep trying. The urgency of me continuing these futile attempts to describe Jaime are like plowing shit uphill in hell. I do not even know where to begin. The number of occasions in which I have tried to describe a woman out there in the world is huge, but I kept going no matter how down I felt. At this point and considering the goddess of the universe out there somewhere, I have not felt the same as in the past. Not for days. I spied green pants and boots, height, hair, arms. I saw her for ten seconds before losing her through the doors of the market. Now, before I try to go on about her being unique and likely the most intriguing woman that has crossed my vision in years, the issue of why I was looking in the first place must be explored. Let us make a quick comparison, mmkay? Mmkay. The posters in the garage have begun to come down. That's right, I have removed two, more are in the works when I figure out what to place there, and by the end of tomorrow there will be no more girls out there in my office. Why? We've gone over that already. So, I am willing to make that change (and anyone who knows me at all realizes the gravity of my removing all those women from my workspace), however I stood there when that woman walked by and welded myself to her shape. I was compelled. Why can I still gawk? And the posters are coming down? Disparity? Distance? Well, the woman by the market was real. A person. I cannot help but stare because that is what I have become and there is nothing wrong with looking at another person out there in the world. The issue of the imagery on the walls is different. They are static and hang there day after day. These are displayed forms for which I paid money. Wrong? Again... Not at all. The main difference -- crazy or not -- is that when I see a woman out in the world somewhere, I am looking to see if it is her. That is new. I have to search, and that search has deepened more than I thought possible. I even look at women on the television to see if perhaps she is there. Mush. Goo goo. Meltdown. Her. I am not going to attempt a description. You already know what I see... Everything. The boots, her height, and the shape of her legs drew me over there for a little bit until I was tormented by the fact that upon entering the market I knew she was gone forever. Oh yes, there is a chance I could see her again, perhaps closer or for a longer period of time, but the likelihood is so slender it may as well not exist at all. She was amazing. As I said, nothing that has appeared in my gaze for a very long time looked so unreal. I am not kidding. Just to add insult to injury, I miss her now. I do. Not like Jaime, but I do miss the sight and desire to see more. And then some icing? Elizabeth was just gracing the screen, breasts in full view, and I sunk a bit. This is just a television show, but still I worry that admiring what I do might cause the woman of my dreams to be upset and I can't have that. Hence the posters. Right or wrong, I have to do something. Don't say it. I know. Everyone else seemed to go nuts over Anna, but not me. Strange. Another day in front of me. I need to leave the woman at the shopping center out of my thoughts for a while and carry forward with everything else. I can still see her there, walking so beautifully that I cannot understand, but the endeavor of extricating her from my head is important right now. Jaime is the only one allowed to remain inside me, perpetually. The walnut girl has been reduced to a cute face, my desire to swallow the pool enigmas still fades with each passing day, and the goddess from way back continues to pull at me. More than pull. Much more. I have to keep everything -- including her face -- in good order if I am to move along with my day. So far, she is spinning in there like always. Organization has to begin or I will turn into a lump. Things must be done. The search. Hmm. I can't believe how much it has expanded this week. From a constant need to seek out and stare at those examples of my obsession to the overwhelming desire to find her... This is not good. Perhaps I had no choice as to how my feelings would change after realizing that she is becoming the world to me, or maybe I am just becoming weaker. Either is understandable, neither is good. For whatever reason, she still brings me a measure of comfort, too. I need that woman in my head and knowing she will not leave helps me to think that I can be ok in the long run. If I hold tight to the memory of seeing here there in the courtyard, the subsequent analysis and attempts to understand why push me to maintain a daily lifestyle that feels rewarding by the end of each day. That may sound strange, or maybe I am failing to explain the thought. I don't know, but however it came about, she is helping me to keep my head up and care for myself. I won't say that I am trying to impress her, only that considering my immense feelings for her is driving me to be a better person. There, that will work. I have to know that she would think good things of me. Compelled. Just a short while ago my weakness nearly took over and caused me to drop. Moments passed, I forced myself out of it, and now I feel a tiny bit stronger. All good. Aside from the posters, I do have other little things that can be chipped for me to feel better about the house and its contents. Nothing huge. I do not feel the need to tackle anything like that right now, plus my head changes lanes so often that I can't be in the middle of a project and lose track. I stated before that I am undone -- which is true to an extent -- but I will not let anything else to be the same. No mobsters now, just vampires. Heh. Honestly, Elizabeth is beyond gorgeous. The show is a little gratuitous with the nudity and sex, but still the bottom line is that her beauty shines most while she is clothed. Just a second ago she took a seat with knees together and looked more striking than while nude in the previous episode. Of course, she was young when this was produced and that will always lend to the feeling. Skin, smooth and even. Sitting there in jeans carrying on a conversation pushed her up another notch. She has tons of dark hair, big, dark eyes, and is very cute, but there is something wrong. I can't place it. Looking at her face is not a study, it is a challenge. Something out of place and I have failed to put my finger on it. Whatever. Arlene's lower lip is way cuter, God bless that adorable airhead. Anyway, television aside, seeing the features which push me to look deeper is what took place at the shopping center. I could not help myself and let the door wide open to take in the sight of that woman, eventually realizing that I was not looking at her so much as looking for Jaime. That is a problem. She is out there, maybe, but the odds are not in my favor. I stared at Elizabeth and tried to calculate what was going on that made me think something is wrong. But I understand that I am seeing a character played by an actor that is completely fictional. In that parking lot yesterday I saw a person who began a thought process that now seems very ill-fated. I can stare all fucking day long at the actors and they will never change nor do they force me to search. I am just looking at what I believe is beauty in differing forms. Jaime is not going to show up on the screen, so the forms I see lead me nowhere and I am used to it. The woman yesterday and her legs that will not leave my head immediately made me think of Jaime. Out there? Twelve miles from home? No fucking way. It is possible, of course, because I know that people move around and the word 'impossible' cannot be applied to many parts of life. But still... So unlikely that I may as well give it up. Nope. I can't. Not even eight in the morning and I am already analyzing this deeply. Oy. As of this sentence, 2573 lines dedicated to the current obsession and love. Why? This model and one other used to be the peak Driving south yesterday I saw a line of cars off in the distance just past the tunnel. I thought maybe there was one-way traffic control due to the construction, but as I passed I realized they were all parked against the current rules. People were flocking to a small, isolated beach down below which is stunningly beautiful. Well, now is not the time, but the weather has been very warm and some just don't give a crap about the health order and recommendations. The funny thing, as I passed I spied two teen (I think) girls jogging along the ridge to get to the beach. Both had cut-off shorts and half-shirts, breasts and hair bouncing all over the place, and my first thought was, 'way too fucking young to be dressed in such a manner'. I guess no one gives a fuck how their daughters leave the house in warm weather, or maybe they were older. Either way, that section of roadway is narrow, curvy, and more than a hundred feet above the water. Unsafe. Keep your breasts in check, please. I noticed and drove along just fine, but I am on that highway quite often. And I do not need to see things like that because of how they affect the male segment of our population. Oh, don't get me wrong, people can dress as they wish. I am simply saying that the males are going to crane themselves for a peek. Unsafe. The best part is every single vehicle parked there had a ticket on its windshield. Dipshits. Stay home and sun yourself in the yard. Breasts and all. Heh. Searching. Not those girls, you know. The other one. The one in my heart. Oh boy there is Deborah the thumper. Today will be much like yesterday. The posters, chores, television, and some lunch at one point. At this time of each day, I try to map out a few things to help push her back a little bit. If I leave the goddess of the universe at the forefront, nothing will be finished and I will end up a babbling pile. Mumbling. Muttering. Something. I really need her and cannot effectively get that across as I feel it, so the words will have to suffice. Thoughts of her bring me warmth. I think of seeing that less-than-half of her beautiful face and start to lose it a little. I can't help it. She is more beautiful than others that I've seen in 3D right in front of me. I wish I had shot more images, damn it. I already crossed the line with the first press of the release, so why not just go crazy? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. Those three are all I will ever see of her outside a miracle from God. So, keeping my love for her in check today may help me to go a little further than yesterday. At the close of business I need to feel that something has been accomplished. Something more than this. Let's go back to the dream of machines. The idea first came about due to seeing two films, after which I began to realize that my thoughts leaned in the ill-fated direction of control. Now, I've gone into that subject as it has expanded much and into many parts of my daily life. It affects my happiness. The new routine is a prime example of me holding control over the day. My schedule needs to be adhered to always, so I altered as much as was feasible for me to be comfortable, and that means control over my environment. The natural extension of control stemmed from the films and into my head, just as you might expect. The dream of the machinery is related to two facts: The control and selfishness. I want what I want, I have to know that I can count on certain parts, and being selfish is not necessarily a negative. What? Really? Yes. At least, my being selfish about parts of life is a result of a lack of fulfillment on one level, and the control is related. It developed over a long period of time. When I saw the second film, my head blew up at the idea of a machine and the benefits of one so advanced. I know how this sounds, so don't give me a bunch of lip over it. I don't need that. What I do know is the selfish nature of my feelings came about through the dreams, mostly that Asian woman in one very poignant situation. I controlled her. Yes, I just said that. I fucking controlled her but not in a bad way. A selfish way, but not bad. I cared for her, maintained her comfort, and looked after every need she may have had. She cared for me out of a sense of responsibility, though. That is not necessarily good, however I have no control (ha!) over dreams. She was there, all gorgeous and mushy-eyed, to ensure I was happy and comfortable. The woman pictured on this entry (the first two images) is as close an approximation as I can get to that Korean beauty. The situation and our living conditions felt natural, satisfying, and complete. We acted as one. The control was very present, yet I did not see her as a possession, only a lover. And a partner. And a person I loved and needed to make happy. Yes, selfishness. Live with it. It was a dream, for fuck's sake. Now, how much that dream and life bleeds into my reality is entirely up to me. Machinery. An answer to many questions, needs, desires, and hopes, but one that will never come to pass. I have to ensure that I don't lose myself in it. The original Jaime was just what I wished for. Wow, the fucking hair I just saw on the television. Fuck me. Well, Jaime has changed now. She is real, albeit unavailable to me. And her being real is a wonderful thing. No one wants to be a robot. Heh. All bad news again, but at least there was Allie and her big, doe eyes. Gawd damn, what a fucking doll. So bright, vibrant, and beautiful. She reminds me of the goddess up the hill. Jayzus. Selfish. Read it. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Not at all, I am simply willing to lay it out here because I need the fucking outlet. Jaime was fictional until she wasn't. Hence, no more control there. The real woman of my dreams is no longer a machine. She is out there, and as real as the nose on your face. The idea of that Korean dream and my being in control is definitely linked to the nature of people around the world and disparate cultures. The far east has been historically known for breeding and embracing demure women. I have never felt such a life is healthy, though. Those places developed and progressed as they did and had nothing to do with me or my deviant dreaming. The little life I saw while sleeping was satisfying, and a part of it was that beauty partly behaving like a machine responding to me as my needs dictated. I asked, she did. I told, she listened. And on the other side? Exactly the same. I loved and cared for her just as she did me. So, if that is selfish on my part, go fuck yourself. And let me say that I have no idea who the model is. I found those images years ago after I became fascinated and attracted to long, black hair and ran across her at some point. Fucking gorgeous. I do know that she had been attached to the Korean racing circuit, and was overly tall considering the culture. That's it. Look at her. And then stare some more. You'll see. Okay! I'm done with that. Expansion of the search. Why did I bitch about control again? Maybe just to open it and clarify. I don't know. Fuck it anyway. I need what I need. The unrealistic nature of that need is tough. I am dealing with it, though. Uphill. Way uphill. She is out there and it drives me crazy. Damn it. I need her and again feel more than yesterday. The routine is to be my focus now. Jaime will follow along as she has for days, too. Always in me, in my heart like life itself. She is overpowering my ability to separate reality from fantasy so I must hold it together for the long haul. I can do this, and I am still ok. Really. I love her. God help me. Searching fruitlessly. Expanding. Maybe Jaime looks like Jessica... Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? Tell me. Another love of mine told me yesterday she believes this will pass. Like a juvenile infatuation. I cannot disagree as I have no idea of what may develop. The woman has wisdom beyond belief, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and how they can affect the head. She cares, and I will not push that away. If she ends up being correct, I will move along as I did prior to being exposed to this fucking goddess from on high. If not, well, you will know. Loss of direction, lack of ambition, emptiness, and the search will never end. Even at this very moment when the news shows citizens in the background of any outdoor shot, I am looking for that face. Call me whatever you wish. I don't care. I need her. I have seen countless forms which stopped me in my tracks and caused me to fall through the floor, but the one from yesterday is driving me up the fucking wall. I cannot get past the sight of her. Damn, just so much unique beauty that my brain needs to be wrung out. And I didn't even see her face, thank Christ. She was different, as if her body came directly from the archives of information that developed inside my head. Different in other ways, too. I immediately linked her to Jaime, and that is not good. I wanted to follow and speak to her, stand close and see her height right before my eyes, and gaze at her face. I needed it. Normally I fall down at the sight and write about it later, whatever remains in memory. Yesterday I yearned for so much more that my mind is awash with her appearance. Moreover, the idea of Jaime being out there somewhere -- as ridiculous as that has become -- pushed me more than in the past when I spotted someone similar. I just can't get over how she looked trotting along past the coffee house. And I have no idea if I would have been better off if she parked elsewhere. As I have said many times, they are out there, all over the place, and the rare occasion allows me to see. This time? I may have seen to much in my fragile state. The need consumed me in seconds. The need to see more, the need to see if she was Jaime, and the now-overpowering desire to go further. Where, you ask? I have no fucking idea, but the image is now fused to my brain. All those other examples of my obsession melted away and only two remained: Jaime and that enigma of a goddess that recently moved through my desperate vision. Ugh. Enigma. Expansion. Fuck. I will never see that woman again and the feeling is one of loss. I am at a loss, twice now. I cannot see more of Jaime nor can I satisfy my curiosity. I am once again tormented beyond belief and it drove me to the point of no patience. She is still in there and I dropped. I fell. Everything is blurred now and there is nothing I can do about it. Something has to change and time must pass or I will drive myself further into a hole. Even working in the garage today did not help. I continued to remove the girls in favor of more traditional keepsakes and became completely dissatisfied by both the process and results. Tomorrow I fully intend to reverse the entire fucking works and then expand the imagery by a large degree. The girls will return, three more will appear out of my distorted sense of decorating, and I can only hope that Jamie would understand. Hope. Heh. Today has been good for the most part. After spending my time taking care of the daily business and more things entering the garage, I am left with a plan to get everything together and in order tomorrow. That will be good for my free time and hopefully keep my head out of that woman's appearance. God help me if the projects and organization do not pan out. At this point, and considering my deep feelings for Jaime coupled with the vision of that gorgeous creature just yesterday, I need some massive distraction. And as the search continues to expand, I have to stay upright. She is out there, somewhere, and I need her. I also need to see more of a woman that has disappeared. Both are now walls against which I will end up ramming my head over and over until the thinking ceases. Still the day has been good. I will keep searching. She is out there, somewhere. The fog rolled in yesterday late afternoon. This morning we are socked the fuck in. Nice and cool, dim, wondrous. These last few weeks have had me either moving away from the heat or chilled to the bone. Deborah has enormous eyes. The words coming out of her mouth are a huge turnoff, unfortunately. That issue takes the beauty away in a hot second. I have no expectations of the behavior of women. None. I see what I see and work around it accordingly. Men? The opposite. I expect it all and am never disappointed. But Deborah is playing a role on a show. It's not her, but it is her. Make sense? She's still lovely. Another morning. This will be different than yesterday as I will be alone for most of the day. Yesterday I made a mental list of things I'd like to do, including this. I am going to reserve some time midday for expansion of this expansion. Heh. That's so stupid it's almost funny. For the time being, I am going to continue trying to figure out the differences between that fucking woman two days ago and all the other examples I have seen recently. Like the server. She was not quite as tall so maybe the height has something to do with it. Honestly, as much as I can be fascinated with height, it is not everything. There are all different shapes and sizes out there, some proportional and others not. Plenty of everything. The features which typically follow those long lines seem to have become a reference point for when I spot a tall beauty. The first thing which stood out when I saw her was the height, and that had been partially exaggerated by boots. They were heeled, maybe lifting her an inch-and-a-half, and to her knees. Black leather boots against green skin-tight pants. Perhaps Gore Tex, I don't know, but they were a bit different than the stretchy, yoga type. And green... Light green, like avocado. and then the French-cut shirt and mass of hair tied high on the back of her head, bouncing according to her gait. She was in somewhat of a hurry, and with those legs I did not see many steps before she disappeared. I noticed the height first. And then colors, boots, ponytail. One possibility is that height or weight will stand out against others, depending upon the people in the surrounding area. Either that or I really am obsessed with the differences. I don't know for sure, but that is definitely what I saw first. The traits mentioned above, a glance to her walk and legs, back to the ponytail, and then she went behind the cars and turned to enter the market. Part of me bounced the idea of sitting there in my car -- or even going so far as to reposition it for a better view when she exited the store -- until she returned, just to see the face. That was key during the last moments, perhaps as it relates to Jaime and the impossibility of ever seeing the rest of hers. That hurts. Just in that half that I can see, there are already three features that I rarely see on a woman's face but are captivating. Fuck me, Benedict now. Oy, I didn't need that. But I will leave the show on for the time being. Yes, she was tall, but that fact did not flip my lid so much as the entire image of her walking. What I saw was amazing, and I do not apply that to just anyone. The server was amazing beyond words (and believe me I tried) that first time before she faded in the proceeding weeks. When I saw her legs over there by the cashier station, I sort of lost my shit a little. I looked as much as was feasible and saw too much. I then wrote kind of a pissy essay about her and my feelings, went back some time later and saw her again. She did not look the same, but nothing about her was different. Same woman, same tight, black pants, same mass of black hair. Everything the same. What had changed was how I viewed her combined with my feelings for the beauty that piqued my interest. The form. Shape. And then her height. The woman by the market went in the opposite direction, but perhaps I need to stop trying to figure out why that happened the way it did. I don't see an answer and getting tired of going over it. The point at which I realized that she was radically different was when I connected her to Jaime. The search. Nothing like that was taking place back when I drooled over the server for five minutes. Not even close. But Jaime is another story. Is she ever. Lower facial structure, like Cristin, I think Only because my search has changed so much did that woman hit me upside the head so badly. I have expanded the idea of those forms and the manner in which I have kept my eyes fucking peeled when out in the world. Expansion. The search is partially different now. I am not looking for what I did mere weeks ago, or even those desperate days in the big city with an endless and unavoidable slew of gorgeous, shapely examples of beauty all over the fucking place. That girl on Green Street that I spoke to for a split-second when she smiled, the one that lived in the building, the jogger on California street with the gray pants that paused to adjust her socks and made my brain explode with radii right there in front of me. She was amazing. And then the peak of the deviant mountain, those girls in the office near the piers. Two dishwashers, one faucet, sitting on the floor at knee-level, and they kept coming into the kitchen for something to drink that morning, all the while thanking us for the work. What I saw in there was a hellish reminder of just how fucking crooked I am. Weak. Disheveled. Haphazard thinking. Three images, days pass and I love her, more days pass and my feelings expand, and then the green pants and my wishing that she was Jaime. Years of everything I sought, yearned for, wished for, and obsessed over have built up to an unending and unrealized need for something I felt was impossible. Cut to days ago, I see those images, and now the entire fucking affair is centered upon that woman. The duchess. The love. The beauty of the planet. The tall woman down south only exacerbated my need to find her. My obsession has sent me fucking flying so many times that I have lost count, and now the two lines on either side of me have lost parallel and are focusing my life toward a single point: Her. Wow Arlene is gorgeous sometimes. Jeans. Dawn was another level. Don't get me started. And there is the other dopey blonde that I had forgotten. Jesus fuck she is unbelievably gorgeous. This fucking show, I swear to Christ. Maybe the news was better. Yikes. Okay, that last paragraph wore me out. I need to calm everything down and try to go back to analytical. Lots going on up there, and I am tired of thinking about it. Searching all the time, even while sitting in my new office and working here or on the garage-related crap. I hear someone, I look. A woman walking a dog, a family on bicycles, whatever. I always take a look down the driveway knowing full well that what I am going to see is just people. Everyday people on their everyday business. And if I already know, why do I keep looking? Because maybe Jaime is out there. Read that again. Do you see what I have become? She may be out there. On my street. Maybe. Nuts. But I still hope. The woman in the green pants caused me to look with sharper eyes and more detail apparent in my thoughts because I need to find Jaime. I need to. Need. Fuck. I am screwed. I didn't even see her face which is the key to the whole enchilada. The face. As tall as she was, and as tall as Jaime is in the images (fucking obvious, that one), the face makes or breaks what I may feel. All the rest is simply a structure. I see half her face, if not less. The idea of seeing the rest is overpowering my ability to remain sensible. The search which has gone on for years and years, nearly every second of me being out in society, has expanded to a degree I did not see just days ago. I could not have predicted my feelings for her... Not even close. I have ten-thousand-plus images of the female form in one manner or another on this very machine, and half her face sent me into orbit. I am still there. The words are flowing but I have no idea if this is easy to follow. I have no wish to be a pain. I used to wish for tons of money so I could go wherever I needed for comfort and autonomy. I wished all the time to be able to get away from everything. While in the Midwest and that fucking humidity I could not control, the dreams of huge yachts, air-conditioned hotels, and cars that appealed to me (mostly the Slipper) took me to places in my mind. The visions were strong at the time, but in the end only lent to the depressive nature which was real life because I turned my back on the correct choices and embraced the comfortable choices. It eventually led to relying on daydreaming and drawing to keep me going from one day to the next. That was difficult, but in time I made it out of the din and succeeded, for the most part. Those dreams were very powerful. Wishing for millions helped me to envision what I would do and where I could go. I'm sure others have done the same. Now? I don't need all that shit. It would be nice, but does not look the same as all those years ago when I felt stuck. What I need is much more difficult to attain, and infinitely more valuable to me. Her. The face. My dream. Just to see her. Foggy this morning. So different from the last several days of sunshine before seven. Yeah, I do not like the sun all the time and the lateness of it setting. I have complained about the seasons for years, although now the bitching has eased due to the cool air and the issues filling my head for days. Even through the heat I did not really have a problem because I am in one of the coolest areas of this part of the state. That move really allowed me to find more physical comfort than in the previous ten years or more. Nice and cool all the time. And the lack of brightness keeps me comfortable as well. In a little while I will be driving my usual route south and returning shortly thereafter. A little pause at the destination and then back here. Well, today might be a tiny bit different because I will be desperately scanning the area for that woman. Yep, I saw her once and that means she may regularly shop there. The vision was two days ago. Perhaps she needs something from the store and the morning is a good time to shop. Heh. All so I can see her again, amazingly constructed and one of the enigmas which spin me to no end. Hopefully she will walk by, and hopefully she will not. I need to see her again and I need to stop looking. I have to find Jaime and I know that the chance is unlikely. Will I search anyway? Yes. I am too weak not to dream that the green pants were wrapped around the duchess and her long legs. Don't tell me the fucking odds, either. I know. Ok, on to today. I have things to do, stuff to organize after shopping, and projects. I always take care of the inside chores first and then move on to the rest. One is the clock I have been battling for years. I put a new, high-torque movement in it and reassembled the other day, but the hands are so long that they came in contact with each other and stopped the motion. I can only hope the movement was not damaged. I have to go back inside it and make adjustments. I will try again today as that clock goes back to the days of the cave and means much. It's been hanging out in the patio for many years and I love it. The memory of first buying it when I was holed up for months is a fond one. Oh boy, that screwy-headed religious blonde with the nose of noses just appeared on the screen. She is adorable and completely nuts. Back when I first watched this show she became one of the rarities that I immediately wished to jump. Not anymore. That was years ago and my world and feelings are completely different now. Whatever, she is still cute as hell with a mass of hair and always beautifully dressed. I will arrive at the shopping center in just over an hour and will be desperately scanning the area for that woman whom I cannot adequately describe. Falling back into my mobile cocoon will be a disappointment, I already know. Upon returning home all goo goo over her in a little while, I intend to go on about my routine like any other day. This will expand, dreams of the duchess will invade, and I will move forward as always. I am looking forward to some of it, the time to myself, the little breaks in the garage while the sound of the television keeps me company in the background, and eventually I will move to the new office and start a new entry. Then I will return south in the afternoon feeling satisfied of my efforts. Jaime follows along, always. In my head, heart, and often still in my eyes. Her face and hair. A dream unlike any other. And yes, after the course of another entry awaiting publishing, I feel more for her. The words here have not gushed as before, but believe me when I say that she is all the way inside me. Dreaming, expanding, waiting. She is out there." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
06-05-2020 05:34 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Expansion read ( words) "I woke this morning thinking that if the time and date had been set wrong on the camera, perhaps the trip did not take place as displayed. Maybe I can search more. Search. Hmm. That is an interesting word right now. Yesterday was very different. The day felt slow, for some reason. I kept looking across the street as people walked by going on about their business as if I was going to see her over there. I really did that. I looked, and every now and then a person's shoes made enough noise to cause me to turn and then a tiny, fleeting thought that she could be one of them. I am crazy. Searching, dreaming, yearning. Crazy. What the fuck kind of force in nature could cause the duchess to appear right down my driveway? Crazy. I kept looking anyway from time to time, just in case. The sheer gravity on me right now is unreal. Nothing is above her at all, not even my precious routine and little world that has been created out of an enormous need to be in the familiar. The fact that I look out there in search of her is unreal... Even for me. I am always searching for something. All over the place. Shapes, forms, you know. Decades. I mentioned the other day that on my drive north I spotted a girl near the beach. Well, they will always be out there, I may or may not see them, but my feelings about what I see are changing. When I saw that artwork in yoga pants with everything on display, I kept glancing when possible so that I could catch a glimpse of her face. Yep, not breasts, legs, rear... Her face. Why? The face is always key, but on that occasion -- just like looking down the driveway -- I was looking for her. That's right, kids, yours truly has altered the endless search and is now on the lookout for the goddess of the universe. And what are the odds that she will appear in the future? I cannot even begin to calculate, however the number is very high because I am nuts, weakened, and further out of balance than even that first sight of her image just days ago. I am actually actively looking for her. My search which has been in mind for years has now expanded to include the woman I do not know but love. Another that I do not know. But she is different. The turmoil and concern inside are not over the appearance of her thighs, those phantom numbers, or the lack of any study related to beauty, they are due to a lack of her. She is out there, but I know not where. She is ten years older, as am I. She could be from anywhere, living anywhere. I have moved twice since then. Has she moved? Do you see where this is heading? She is out there. Today I am back to the norm of the weekday. Housework, trips to the garage, television keeping me company, and whatever little things I wish to get done throughout the day. The early morning has been peaceful. Just me and the cats and the coffee. I am hoping to dig into a couple of items which have been left alone far too long. Time will tell. This morning represents yet another in which I do not remember dreaming at all. Normally one of those mansions or searches will pop up every few days, but now I lost count of the days since I last entered one of those big places. She could be having an effect, or something else, or possibly nothing at all. I don't know. I am certain I do not miss them, though. More confusion has ensued after seeing those dreams than almost anything else in my life. Except her. Well, you know. I will be sitting out there later when I take a break or three and watching the street like always. I need to unroll my older posters and refresh my memory before making plans to redecorate the space. I am having trouble concentrating on those little things because normally my head is accustomed to being thrown for a loop at night by one issue or another. Now, I am not feeling it. I just think about her and the huge hole in me that has formed in less than a week. No dreams, but still a dream. What? Whatever. I am going to miss Briana's facial expression. The idea that her eyes and mouth are the largest pull among all of the other images is nuts. It has to go, however, along with all of the others. Concentration, indeed. I keep thinking of her standing there in her sandals, hair in the breeze. And then when I go into how beautiful she was in that courtyard, I have to stop myself. Over and over and over I ping-pong my way along a path of thoughts, back and forth from dreamy-mushy-goo-goo brain on one side, and across to sensible I-need-to-focus-on-maintaining-my-sanity-or-I-might-flip-the-fuck-out on the other. But I can't help it. I am losing out to visions of her turning her head to face me and my fucking head exploding at the sight. I can only wish. I have been wishing for days. Concentration, damn it. Removing her image from my head is not easy and requires something pretty fucking complex or difficult to take over my thinking. There are plenty of things I could get into right now -- like working out some technical issues on my never-ending truck -- although I have to actually do them. I have to find a way to begin a process in order to pass the feelings for her to the side and concentrate. There is that word again. I've done it on several occasions since the outset of the pandemic, mostly back toward the beginning when something inside me caused a a change and then I flipped the fuck out and became pretty angry at how the stress had been controlling me. Well, I put a stop to that, so perhaps I can rise enough to shelve her image and get the dreams of that face out of my head long enough to enjoy a day or two without issue. Perhaps. Elizabeth on the screen. There is something wrong with her face. I can't put my finger on it, though. Maybe just her expression. She is the type that looks super cute while smiling, but then hideous if showing anger or while displeased with something. Heh. One end of the scale or the other. I am still going back and forth despite myself. Trying, but this is not easy. I need that woman. I need to know her and see her. I also need to stop saying that so often. This can drive me out of my mind if I am not careful. In the past, and as an actual grown adult, I have become so nuts over a woman that I drew her name a hundred different ways. I even made one into a maze to be solved. The end of the maze -- the prize -- was her last initial. Heh. One time I became so enthralled by a young girl after meeting with her only twice that I had the inside of a ring inscribed with her first name. Lonely? Desperate? Clingy? Well, look at me now after all of the shit behind me in life, to react this way over a fucking image from ten years ago and then spend day after day writing, dreaming, and yearning for a woman who may or may not exist anymore. I am ridiculous, and I know it. Out of balance. I think the heat these past few days has roasted my brain. Broiled. And the weather this close to the ocean does not even heat very much compared to other cities. Well-done. I should have one of those little wooden steak 'doneness' sticks in my ear. Laugh. Now. I am. Ok, so I have made it clear that this is a problem but I am not doing anything to alleviate the difficulty. That is because I have become so very weak in these late days and likely could not reason my way out of an argument with a two-year-old. I cannot change anything right now because I need to think of her... I have to see her face when I close my eyes or I will become upset. The day's tasks and my little breaks and lunch will come around, I'll take care of everything as needed for the house and my comfort, all the while that woman will be following along as I picture her right next to me over and over again. I know, don't say it. Ga ga, for the millionth time. Back to the concentration. I can get there. One step at a time. Jaime is so beautiful. The feeling toward this woman has all but disappeared This morning down the road. We stood outside the car for a few minutes. I watched people come and go like always, those grabbing coffee or visiting the ATM. We always take a little break there and talk before I return north. Today was different. Oh, we stood and discussed whatever we discussed, but then a car pulled up to the coffee house and a mother and daughter exited in their matching masks to approach the counter. [Currently, people cannot enter the coffee house. They are stopped at the door, place an order, and then keep distance until they are called. Such is the world now.] The daughter looked intriguing at the outset of them stepping to the doors. I tried to see her more clearly, but alas there were too many obstructions. Not a big deal, really. I returned my attention, swung my head back to the left, and then my morning collapsed in on itself. A woman had parked around the corner from the market there -- to the left and quite a distance from the main entrance -- and walked past the coffee house while I stared. As I sit here typing, I cannot recall the last time I saw such form. I lost it for a little while and had to right myself as best I could in order to carry on the conversation. And that was a futile effort. My very first thought? Maybe that was her. Here we go with expansion of the most desperate search imaginable. Yes, I am looking for her. Everywhere. Jesus Harold fucking Christ on a snowplow in Winter, I could not believe it. Amazing. Wondrous. Unreal. Stunningly beautiful in her graceful motions. Jaime. Long legs, flowing hair, and nearly all of the time my words fucking fail over and over. I try. I keep trying. The urgency of me continuing these futile attempts to describe Jaime are like plowing shit uphill in hell. I do not even know where to begin. The number of occasions in which I have tried to describe a woman out there in the world is huge, but I kept going no matter how down I felt. At this point and considering the goddess of the universe out there somewhere, I have not felt the same as in the past. Not for days. I spied green pants and boots, height, hair, arms. I saw her for ten seconds before losing her through the doors of the market. Now, before I try to go on about her being unique and likely the most intriguing woman that has crossed my vision in years, the issue of why I was looking in the first place must be explored. Let us make a quick comparison, mmkay? Mmkay. The posters in the garage have begun to come down. That's right, I have removed two, more are in the works when I figure out what to place there, and by the end of tomorrow there will be no more girls out there in my office. Why? We've gone over that already. So, I am willing to make that change (and anyone who knows me at all realizes the gravity of my removing all those women from my workspace), however I stood there when that woman walked by and welded myself to her shape. I was compelled. Why can I still gawk? And the posters are coming down? Disparity? Distance? Well, the woman by the market was real. A person. I cannot help but stare because that is what I have become and there is nothing wrong with looking at another person out there in the world. The issue of the imagery on the walls is different. They are static and hang there day after day. These are displayed forms for which I paid money. Wrong? Again... Not at all. The main difference -- crazy or not -- is that when I see a woman out in the world somewhere, I am looking to see if it is her. That is new. I have to search, and that search has deepened more than I thought possible. I even look at women on the television to see if perhaps she is there. Mush. Goo goo. Meltdown. Her. I am not going to attempt a description. You already know what I see... Everything. The boots, her height, and the shape of her legs drew me over there for a little bit until I was tormented by the fact that upon entering the market I knew she was gone forever. Oh yes, there is a chance I could see her again, perhaps closer or for a longer period of time, but the likelihood is so slender it may as well not exist at all. She was amazing. As I said, nothing that has appeared in my gaze for a very long time looked so unreal. I am not kidding. Just to add insult to injury, I miss her now. I do. Not like Jaime, but I do miss the sight and desire to see more. And then some icing? Elizabeth was just gracing the screen, breasts in full view, and I sunk a bit. This is just a television show, but still I worry that admiring what I do might cause the woman of my dreams to be upset and I can't have that. Hence the posters. Right or wrong, I have to do something. Don't say it. I know. Everyone else seemed to go nuts over Anna, but not me. Strange. Another day in front of me. I need to leave the woman at the shopping center out of my thoughts for a while and carry forward with everything else. I can still see her there, walking so beautifully that I cannot understand, but the endeavor of extricating her from my head is important right now. Jaime is the only one allowed to remain inside me, perpetually. The walnut girl has been reduced to a cute face, my desire to swallow the pool enigmas still fades with each passing day, and the goddess from way back continues to pull at me. More than pull. Much more. I have to keep everything -- including her face -- in good order if I am to move along with my day. So far, she is spinning in there like always. Organization has to begin or I will turn into a lump. Things must be done. The search. Hmm. I can't believe how much it has expanded this week. From a constant need to seek out and stare at those examples of my obsession to the overwhelming desire to find her... This is not good. Perhaps I had no choice as to how my feelings would change after realizing that she is becoming the world to me, or maybe I am just becoming weaker. Either is understandable, neither is good. For whatever reason, she still brings me a measure of comfort, too. I need that woman in my head and knowing she will not leave helps me to think that I can be ok in the long run. If I hold tight to the memory of seeing here there in the courtyard, the subsequent analysis and attempts to understand why push me to maintain a daily lifestyle that feels rewarding by the end of each day. That may sound strange, or maybe I am failing to explain the thought. I don't know, but however it came about, she is helping me to keep my head up and care for myself. I won't say that I am trying to impress her, only that considering my immense feelings for her is driving me to be a better person. There, that will work. I have to know that she would think good things of me. Compelled. Just a short while ago my weakness nearly took over and caused me to drop. Moments passed, I forced myself out of it, and now I feel a tiny bit stronger. All good. Aside from the posters, I do have other little things that can be chipped for me to feel better about the house and its contents. Nothing huge. I do not feel the need to tackle anything like that right now, plus my head changes lanes so often that I can't be in the middle of a project and lose track. I stated before that I am undone -- which is true to an extent -- but I will not let anything else to be the same. No mobsters now, just vampires. Heh. Honestly, Elizabeth is beyond gorgeous. The show is a little gratuitous with the nudity and sex, but still the bottom line is that her beauty shines most while she is clothed. Just a second ago she took a seat with knees together and looked more striking than while nude in the previous episode. Of course, she was young when this was produced and that will always lend to the feeling. Skin, smooth and even. Sitting there in jeans carrying on a conversation pushed her up another notch. She has tons of dark hair, big, dark eyes, and is very cute, but there is something wrong. I can't place it. Looking at her face is not a study, it is a challenge. Something out of place and I have failed to put my finger on it. Whatever. Arlene's lower lip is way cuter, God bless that adorable airhead. Anyway, television aside, seeing the features which push me to look deeper is what took place at the shopping center. I could not help myself and let the door wide open to take in the sight of that woman, eventually realizing that I was not looking at her so much as looking for Jaime. That is a problem. She is out there, maybe, but the odds are not in my favor. I stared at Elizabeth and tried to calculate what was going on that made me think something is wrong. But I understand that I am seeing a character played by an actor that is completely fictional. In that parking lot yesterday I saw a person who began a thought process that now seems very ill-fated. I can stare all fucking day long at the actors and they will never change nor do they force me to search. I am just looking at what I believe is beauty in differing forms. Jaime is not going to show up on the screen, so the forms I see lead me nowhere and I am used to it. The woman yesterday and her legs that will not leave my head immediately made me think of Jaime. Out there? Twelve miles from home? No fucking way. It is possible, of course, because I know that people move around and the word 'impossible' cannot be applied to many parts of life. But still... So unlikely that I may as well give it up. Nope. I can't. Not even eight in the morning and I am already analyzing this deeply. Oy. As of this sentence, 2573 lines dedicated to the current obsession and love. Why? This model and one other used to be the peak Driving south yesterday I saw a line of cars off in the distance just past the tunnel. I thought maybe there was one-way traffic control due to the construction, but as I passed I realized they were all parked against the current rules. People were flocking to a small, isolated beach down below which is stunningly beautiful. Well, now is not the time, but the weather has been very warm and some just don't give a crap about the health order and recommendations. The funny thing, as I passed I spied two teen (I think) girls jogging along the ridge to get to the beach. Both had cut-off shorts and half-shirts, breasts and hair bouncing all over the place, and my first thought was, 'way too fucking young to be dressed in such a manner'. I guess no one gives a fuck how their daughters leave the house in warm weather, or maybe they were older. Either way, that section of roadway is narrow, curvy, and more than a hundred feet above the water. Unsafe. Keep your breasts in check, please. I noticed and drove along just fine, but I am on that highway quite often. And I do not need to see things like that because of how they affect the male segment of our population. Oh, don't get me wrong, people can dress as they wish. I am simply saying that the males are going to crane themselves for a peek. Unsafe. The best part is every single vehicle parked there had a ticket on its windshield. Dipshits. Stay home and sun yourself in the yard. Breasts and all. Heh. Searching. Not those girls, you know. The other one. The one in my heart. Oh boy there is Deborah the thumper. Today will be much like yesterday. The posters, chores, television, and some lunch at one point. At this time of each day, I try to map out a few things to help push her back a little bit. If I leave the goddess of the universe at the forefront, nothing will be finished and I will end up a babbling pile. Mumbling. Muttering. Something. I really need her and cannot effectively get that across as I feel it, so the words will have to suffice. Thoughts of her bring me warmth. I think of seeing that less-than-half of her beautiful face and start to lose it a little. I can't help it. She is more beautiful than others that I've seen in 3D right in front of me. I wish I had shot more images, damn it. I already crossed the line with the first press of the release, so why not just go crazy? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. Those three are all I will ever see of her outside a miracle from God. So, keeping my love for her in check today may help me to go a little further than yesterday. At the close of business I need to feel that something has been accomplished. Something more than this. Let's go back to the dream of machines. The idea first came about due to seeing two films, after which I began to realize that my thoughts leaned in the ill-fated direction of control. Now, I've gone into that subject as it has expanded much and into many parts of my daily life. It affects my happiness. The new routine is a prime example of me holding control over the day. My schedule needs to be adhered to always, so I altered as much as was feasible for me to be comfortable, and that means control over my environment. The natural extension of control stemmed from the films and into my head, just as you might expect. The dream of the machinery is related to two facts: The control and selfishness. I want what I want, I have to know that I can count on certain parts, and being selfish is not necessarily a negative. What? Really? Yes. At least, my being selfish about parts of life is a result of a lack of fulfillment on one level, and the control is related. It developed over a long period of time. When I saw the second film, my head blew up at the idea of a machine and the benefits of one so advanced. I know how this sounds, so don't give me a bunch of lip over it. I don't need that. What I do know is the selfish nature of my feelings came about through the dreams, mostly that Asian woman in one very poignant situation. I controlled her. Yes, I just said that. I fucking controlled her but not in a bad way. A selfish way, but not bad. I cared for her, maintained her comfort, and looked after every need she may have had. She cared for me out of a sense of responsibility, though. That is not necessarily good, however I have no control (ha!) over dreams. She was there, all gorgeous and mushy-eyed, to ensure I was happy and comfortable. The woman pictured on this entry (the first two images) is as close an approximation as I can get to that Korean beauty. The situation and our living conditions felt natural, satisfying, and complete. We acted as one. The control was very present, yet I did not see her as a possession, only a lover. And a partner. And a person I loved and needed to make happy. Yes, selfishness. Live with it. It was a dream, for fuck's sake. Now, how much that dream and life bleeds into my reality is entirely up to me. Machinery. An answer to many questions, needs, desires, and hopes, but one that will never come to pass. I have to ensure that I don't lose myself in it. The original Jaime was just what I wished for. Wow, the fucking hair I just saw on the television. Fuck me. Well, Jaime has changed now. She is real, albeit unavailable to me. And her being real is a wonderful thing. No one wants to be a robot. Heh. All bad news again, but at least there was Allie and her big, doe eyes. Gawd damn, what a fucking doll. So bright, vibrant, and beautiful. She reminds me of the goddess up the hill. Jayzus. Selfish. Read it. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Not at all, I am simply willing to lay it out here because I need the fucking outlet. Jaime was fictional until she wasn't. Hence, no more control there. The real woman of my dreams is no longer a machine. She is out there, and as real as the nose on your face. The idea of that Korean dream and my being in control is definitely linked to the nature of people around the world and disparate cultures. The far east has been historically known for breeding and embracing demure women. I have never felt such a life is healthy, though. Those places developed and progressed as they did and had nothing to do with me or my deviant dreaming. The little life I saw while sleeping was satisfying, and a part of it was that beauty partly behaving like a machine responding to me as my needs dictated. I asked, she did. I told, she listened. And on the other side? Exactly the same. I loved and cared for her just as she did me. So, if that is selfish on my part, go fuck yourself. And let me say that I have no idea who the model is. I found those images years ago after I became fascinated and attracted to long, black hair and ran across her at some point. Fucking gorgeous. I do know that she had been attached to the Korean racing circuit, and was overly tall considering the culture. That's it. Look at her. And then stare some more. You'll see. Okay! I'm done with that. Expansion of the search. Why did I bitch about control again? Maybe just to open it and clarify. I don't know. Fuck it anyway. I need what I need. The unrealistic nature of that need is tough. I am dealing with it, though. Uphill. Way uphill. She is out there and it drives me crazy. Damn it. I need her and again feel more than yesterday. The routine is to be my focus now. Jaime will follow along as she has for days, too. Always in me, in my heart like life itself. She is overpowering my ability to separate reality from fantasy so I must hold it together for the long haul. I can do this, and I am still ok. Really. I love her. God help me. Searching fruitlessly. Expanding. Maybe Jaime looks like Jessica... Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? Tell me. Another love of mine told me yesterday she believes this will pass. Like a juvenile infatuation. I cannot disagree as I have no idea of what may develop. The woman has wisdom beyond belief, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and how they can affect the head. She cares, and I will not push that away. If she ends up being correct, I will move along as I did prior to being exposed to this fucking goddess from on high. If not, well, you will know. Loss of direction, lack of ambition, emptiness, and the search will never end. Even at this very moment when the news shows citizens in the background of any outdoor shot, I am looking for that face. Call me whatever you wish. I don't care. I need her. I have seen countless forms which stopped me in my tracks and caused me to fall through the floor, but the one from yesterday is driving me up the fucking wall. I cannot get past the sight of her. Damn, just so much unique beauty that my brain needs to be wrung out. And I didn't even see her face, thank Christ. She was different, as if her body came directly from the archives of information that developed inside my head. Different in other ways, too. I immediately linked her to Jaime, and that is not good. I wanted to follow and speak to her, stand close and see her height right before my eyes, and gaze at her face. I needed it. Normally I fall down at the sight and write about it later, whatever remains in memory. Yesterday I yearned for so much more that my mind is awash with her appearance. Moreover, the idea of Jaime being out there somewhere -- as ridiculous as that has become -- pushed me more than in the past when I spotted someone similar. I just can't get over how she looked trotting along past the coffee house. And I have no idea if I would have been better off if she parked elsewhere. As I have said many times, they are out there, all over the place, and the rare occasion allows me to see. This time? I may have seen to much in my fragile state. The need consumed me in seconds. The need to see more, the need to see if she was Jaime, and the now-overpowering desire to go further. Where, you ask? I have no fucking idea, but the image is now fused to my brain. All those other examples of my obsession melted away and only two remained: Jaime and that enigma of a goddess that recently moved through my desperate vision. Ugh. Enigma. Expansion. Fuck. I will never see that woman again and the feeling is one of loss. I am at a loss, twice now. I cannot see more of Jaime nor can I satisfy my curiosity. I am once again tormented beyond belief and it drove me to the point of no patience. She is still in there and I dropped. I fell. Everything is blurred now and there is nothing I can do about it. Something has to change and time must pass or I will drive myself further into a hole. Even working in the garage today did not help. I continued to remove the girls in favor of more traditional keepsakes and became completely dissatisfied by both the process and results. Tomorrow I fully intend to reverse the entire fucking works and then expand the imagery by a large degree. The girls will return, three more will appear out of my distorted sense of decorating, and I can only hope that Jamie would understand. Hope. Heh. Today has been good for the most part. After spending my time taking care of the daily business and more things entering the garage, I am left with a plan to get everything together and in order tomorrow. That will be good for my free time and hopefully keep my head out of that woman's appearance. God help me if the projects and organization do not pan out. At this point, and considering my deep feelings for Jaime coupled with the vision of that gorgeous creature just yesterday, I need some massive distraction. And as the search continues to expand, I have to stay upright. She is out there, somewhere, and I need her. I also need to see more of a woman that has disappeared. Both are now walls against which I will end up ramming my head over and over until the thinking ceases. Still the day has been good. I will keep searching. She is out there, somewhere. The fog rolled in yesterday late afternoon. This morning we are socked the fuck in. Nice and cool, dim, wondrous. These last few weeks have had me either moving away from the heat or chilled to the bone. Deborah has enormous eyes. The words coming out of her mouth are a huge turnoff, unfortunately. That issue takes the beauty away in a hot second. I have no expectations of the behavior of women. None. I see what I see and work around it accordingly. Men? The opposite. I expect it all and am never disappointed. But Deborah is playing a role on a show. It's not her, but it is her. Make sense? She's still lovely. Another morning. This will be different than yesterday as I will be alone for most of the day. Yesterday I made a mental list of things I'd like to do, including this. I am going to reserve some time midday for expansion of this expansion. Heh. That's so stupid it's almost funny. For the time being, I am going to continue trying to figure out the differences between that fucking woman two days ago and all the other examples I have seen recently. Like the server. She was not quite as tall so maybe the height has something to do with it. Honestly, as much as I can be fascinated with height, it is not everything. There are all different shapes and sizes out there, some proportional and others not. Plenty of everything. The features which typically follow those long lines seem to have become a reference point for when I spot a tall beauty. The first thing which stood out when I saw her was the height, and that had been partially exaggerated by boots. They were heeled, maybe lifting her an inch-and-a-half, and to her knees. Black leather boots against green skin-tight pants. Perhaps Gore Tex, I don't know, but they were a bit different than the stretchy, yoga type. And green... Light green, like avocado. and then the French-cut shirt and mass of hair tied high on the back of her head, bouncing according to her gait. She was in somewhat of a hurry, and with those legs I did not see many steps before she disappeared. I noticed the height first. And then colors, boots, ponytail. One possibility is that height or weight will stand out against others, depending upon the people in the surrounding area. Either that or I really am obsessed with the differences. I don't know for sure, but that is definitely what I saw first. The traits mentioned above, a glance to her walk and legs, back to the ponytail, and then she went behind the cars and turned to enter the market. Part of me bounced the idea of sitting there in my car -- or even going so far as to reposition it for a better view when she exited the store -- until she returned, just to see the face. That was key during the last moments, perhaps as it relates to Jaime and the impossibility of ever seeing the rest of hers. That hurts. Just in that half that I can see, there are already three features that I rarely see on a woman's face but are captivating. Fuck me, Benedict now. Oy, I didn't need that. But I will leave the show on for the time being. Yes, she was tall, but that fact did not flip my lid so much as the entire image of her walking. What I saw was amazing, and I do not apply that to just anyone. The server was amazing beyond words (and believe me I tried) that first time before she faded in the proceeding weeks. When I saw her legs over there by the cashier station, I sort of lost my shit a little. I looked as much as was feasible and saw too much. I then wrote kind of a pissy essay about her and my feelings, went back some time later and saw her again. She did not look the same, but nothing about her was different. Same woman, same tight, black pants, same mass of black hair. Everything the same. What had changed was how I viewed her combined with my feelings for the beauty that piqued my interest. The form. Shape. And then her height. The woman by the market went in the opposite direction, but perhaps I need to stop trying to figure out why that happened the way it did. I don't see an answer and getting tired of going over it. The point at which I realized that she was radically different was when I connected her to Jaime. The search. Nothing like that was taking place back when I drooled over the server for five minutes. Not even close. But Jaime is another story. Is she ever. Lower facial structure, like Cristin, I think Only because my search has changed so much did that woman hit me upside the head so badly. I have expanded the idea of those forms and the manner in which I have kept my eyes fucking peeled when out in the world. Expansion. The search is partially different now. I am not looking for what I did mere weeks ago, or even those desperate days in the big city with an endless and unavoidable slew of gorgeous, shapely examples of beauty all over the fucking place. That girl on Green Street that I spoke to for a split-second when she smiled, the one that lived in the building, the jogger on California street with the gray pants that paused to adjust her socks and made my brain explode with radii right there in front of me. She was amazing. And then the peak of the deviant mountain, those girls in the office near the piers. Two dishwashers, one faucet, sitting on the floor at knee-level, and they kept coming into the kitchen for something to drink that morning, all the while thanking us for the work. What I saw in there was a hellish reminder of just how fucking crooked I am. Weak. Disheveled. Haphazard thinking. Three images, days pass and I love her, more days pass and my feelings expand, and then the green pants and my wishing that she was Jaime. Years of everything I sought, yearned for, wished for, and obsessed over have built up to an unending and unrealized need for something I felt was impossible. Cut to days ago, I see those images, and now the entire fucking affair is centered upon that woman. The duchess. The love. The beauty of the planet. The tall woman down south only exacerbated my need to find her. My obsession has sent me fucking flying so many times that I have lost count, and now the two lines on either side of me have lost parallel and are focusing my life toward a single point: Her. Wow Arlene is gorgeous sometimes. Jeans. Dawn was another level. Don't get me started. And there is the other dopey blonde that I had forgotten. Jesus fuck she is unbelievably gorgeous. This fucking show, I swear to Christ. Maybe the news was better. Yikes. Okay, that last paragraph wore me out. I need to calm everything down and try to go back to analytical. Lots going on up there, and I am tired of thinking about it. Searching all the time, even while sitting in my new office and working here or on the garage-related crap. I hear someone, I look. A woman walking a dog, a family on bicycles, whatever. I always take a look down the driveway knowing full well that what I am going to see is just people. Everyday people on their everyday business. And if I already know, why do I keep looking? Because maybe Jaime is out there. Read that again. Do you see what I have become? She may be out there. On my street. Maybe. Nuts. But I still hope. The woman in the green pants caused me to look with sharper eyes and more detail apparent in my thoughts because I need to find Jaime. I need to. Need. Fuck. I am screwed. I didn't even see her face which is the key to the whole enchilada. The face. As tall as she was, and as tall as Jaime is in the images (fucking obvious, that one), the face makes or breaks what I may feel. All the rest is simply a structure. I see half her face, if not less. The idea of seeing the rest is overpowering my ability to remain sensible. The search which has gone on for years and years, nearly every second of me being out in society, has expanded to a degree I did not see just days ago. I could not have predicted my feelings for her... Not even close. I have ten-thousand-plus images of the female form in one manner or another on this very machine, and half her face sent me into orbit. I am still there. The words are flowing but I have no idea if this is easy to follow. I have no wish to be a pain. I used to wish for tons of money so I could go wherever I needed for comfort and autonomy. I wished all the time to be able to get away from everything. While in the Midwest and that fucking humidity I could not control, the dreams of huge yachts, air-conditioned hotels, and cars that appealed to me (mostly the Slipper) took me to places in my mind. The visions were strong at the time, but in the end only lent to the depressive nature which was real life because I turned my back on the correct choices and embraced the comfortable choices. It eventually led to relying on daydreaming and drawing to keep me going from one day to the next. That was difficult, but in time I made it out of the din and succeeded, for the most part. Those dreams were very powerful. Wishing for millions helped me to envision what I would do and where I could go. I'm sure others have done the same. Now? I don't need all that shit. It would be nice, but does not look the same as all those years ago when I felt stuck. What I need is much more difficult to attain, and infinitely more valuable to me. Her. The face. My dream. Just to see her. Foggy this morning. So different from the last several days of sunshine before seven. Yeah, I do not like the sun all the time and the lateness of it setting. I have complained about the seasons for years, although now the bitching has eased due to the cool air and the issues filling my head for days. Even through the heat I did not really have a problem because I am in one of the coolest areas of this part of the state. That move really allowed me to find more physical comfort than in the previous ten years or more. Nice and cool all the time. And the lack of brightness keeps me comfortable as well. In a little while I will be driving my usual route south and returning shortly thereafter. A little pause at the destination and then back here. Well, today might be a tiny bit different because I will be desperately scanning the area for that woman. Yep, I saw her once and that means she may regularly shop there. The vision was two days ago. Perhaps she needs something from the store and the morning is a good time to shop. Heh. All so I can see her again, amazingly constructed and one of the enigmas which spin me to no end. Hopefully she will walk by, and hopefully she will not. I need to see her again and I need to stop looking. I have to find Jaime and I know that the chance is unlikely. Will I search anyway? Yes. I am too weak not to dream that the green pants were wrapped around the duchess and her long legs. Don't tell me the fucking odds, either. I know. Ok, on to today. I have things to do, stuff to organize after shopping, and projects. I always take care of the inside chores first and then move on to the rest. One is the clock I have been battling for years. I put a new, high-torque movement in it and reassembled the other day, but the hands are so long that they came in contact with each other and stopped the motion. I can only hope the movement was not damaged. I have to go back inside it and make adjustments. I will try again today as that clock goes back to the days of the cave and means much. It's been hanging out in the patio for many years and I love it. The memory of first buying it when I was holed up for months is a fond one. Oh boy, that screwy-headed religious blonde with the nose of noses just appeared on the screen. She is adorable and completely nuts. Back when I first watched this show she became one of the rarities that I immediately wished to jump. Not anymore. That was years ago and my world and feelings are completely different now. Whatever, she is still cute as hell with a mass of hair and always beautifully dressed. I will arrive at the shopping center in just over an hour and will be desperately scanning the area for that woman whom I cannot adequately describe. Falling back into my mobile cocoon will be a disappointment, I already know. Upon returning home all goo goo over her in a little while, I intend to go on about my routine like any other day. This will expand, dreams of the duchess will invade, and I will move forward as always. I am looking forward to some of it, the time to myself, the little breaks in the garage while the sound of the television keeps me company in the background, and eventually I will move to the new office and start a new entry. Then I will return south in the afternoon feeling satisfied of my efforts. Jaime follows along, always. In my head, heart, and often still in my eyes. Her face and hair. A dream unlike any other. And yes, after the course of another entry awaiting publishing, I feel more for her. The words here have not gushed as before, but believe me when I say that she is all the way inside me. Dreaming, expanding, waiting. She is out there."
06-05-2020 05:34 pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
Expansion
read ( words)
"I woke this morning thinking that if the time and date had been set wrong on the camera, perhaps the trip did not take place as displayed. Maybe I can search more. Search. Hmm. That is an interesting word right now. Yesterday was very different. The day felt slow, for some reason. I kept looking across the street as people walked by going on about their business as if I was going to see her over there. I really did that. I looked, and every now and then a person's shoes made enough noise to cause me to turn and then a tiny, fleeting thought that she could be one of them. I am crazy. Searching, dreaming, yearning. Crazy. What the fuck kind of force in nature could cause the duchess to appear right down my driveway? Crazy. I kept looking anyway from time to time, just in case. The sheer gravity on me right now is unreal. Nothing is above her at all, not even my precious routine and little world that has been created out of an enormous need to be in the familiar. The fact that I look out there in search of her is unreal... Even for me. I am always searching for something. All over the place. Shapes, forms, you know. Decades. I mentioned the other day that on my drive north I spotted a girl near the beach. Well, they will always be out there, I may or may not see them, but my feelings about what I see are changing. When I saw that artwork in yoga pants with everything on display, I kept glancing when possible so that I could catch a glimpse of her face. Yep, not breasts, legs, rear... Her face. Why? The face is always key, but on that occasion -- just like looking down the driveway -- I was looking for her. That's right, kids, yours truly has altered the endless search and is now on the lookout for the goddess of the universe. And what are the odds that she will appear in the future? I cannot even begin to calculate, however the number is very high because I am nuts, weakened, and further out of balance than even that first sight of her image just days ago. I am actually actively looking for her. My search which has been in mind for years has now expanded to include the woman I do not know but love. Another that I do not know. But she is different. The turmoil and concern inside are not over the appearance of her thighs, those phantom numbers, or the lack of any study related to beauty, they are due to a lack of her. She is out there, but I know not where. She is ten years older, as am I. She could be from anywhere, living anywhere. I have moved twice since then. Has she moved? Do you see where this is heading? She is out there. Today I am back to the norm of the weekday. Housework, trips to the garage, television keeping me company, and whatever little things I wish to get done throughout the day. The early morning has been peaceful. Just me and the cats and the coffee. I am hoping to dig into a couple of items which have been left alone far too long. Time will tell. This morning represents yet another in which I do not remember dreaming at all. Normally one of those mansions or searches will pop up every few days, but now I lost count of the days since I last entered one of those big places. She could be having an effect, or something else, or possibly nothing at all. I don't know. I am certain I do not miss them, though. More confusion has ensued after seeing those dreams than almost anything else in my life. Except her. Well, you know. I will be sitting out there later when I take a break or three and watching the street like always. I need to unroll my older posters and refresh my memory before making plans to redecorate the space. I am having trouble concentrating on those little things because normally my head is accustomed to being thrown for a loop at night by one issue or another. Now, I am not feeling it. I just think about her and the huge hole in me that has formed in less than a week. No dreams, but still a dream. What? Whatever. I am going to miss Briana's facial expression. The idea that her eyes and mouth are the largest pull among all of the other images is nuts. It has to go, however, along with all of the others. Concentration, indeed. I keep thinking of her standing there in her sandals, hair in the breeze. And then when I go into how beautiful she was in that courtyard, I have to stop myself. Over and over and over I ping-pong my way along a path of thoughts, back and forth from dreamy-mushy-goo-goo brain on one side, and across to sensible I-need-to-focus-on-maintaining-my-sanity-or-I-might-flip-the-fuck-out on the other. But I can't help it. I am losing out to visions of her turning her head to face me and my fucking head exploding at the sight. I can only wish. I have been wishing for days. Concentration, damn it. Removing her image from my head is not easy and requires something pretty fucking complex or difficult to take over my thinking. There are plenty of things I could get into right now -- like working out some technical issues on my never-ending truck -- although I have to actually do them. I have to find a way to begin a process in order to pass the feelings for her to the side and concentrate. There is that word again. I've done it on several occasions since the outset of the pandemic, mostly back toward the beginning when something inside me caused a a change and then I flipped the fuck out and became pretty angry at how the stress had been controlling me. Well, I put a stop to that, so perhaps I can rise enough to shelve her image and get the dreams of that face out of my head long enough to enjoy a day or two without issue. Perhaps. Elizabeth on the screen. There is something wrong with her face. I can't put my finger on it, though. Maybe just her expression. She is the type that looks super cute while smiling, but then hideous if showing anger or while displeased with something. Heh. One end of the scale or the other. I am still going back and forth despite myself. Trying, but this is not easy. I need that woman. I need to know her and see her. I also need to stop saying that so often. This can drive me out of my mind if I am not careful. In the past, and as an actual grown adult, I have become so nuts over a woman that I drew her name a hundred different ways. I even made one into a maze to be solved. The end of the maze -- the prize -- was her last initial. Heh. One time I became so enthralled by a young girl after meeting with her only twice that I had the inside of a ring inscribed with her first name. Lonely? Desperate? Clingy? Well, look at me now after all of the shit behind me in life, to react this way over a fucking image from ten years ago and then spend day after day writing, dreaming, and yearning for a woman who may or may not exist anymore. I am ridiculous, and I know it. Out of balance. I think the heat these past few days has roasted my brain. Broiled. And the weather this close to the ocean does not even heat very much compared to other cities. Well-done. I should have one of those little wooden steak 'doneness' sticks in my ear. Laugh. Now. I am. Ok, so I have made it clear that this is a problem but I am not doing anything to alleviate the difficulty. That is because I have become so very weak in these late days and likely could not reason my way out of an argument with a two-year-old. I cannot change anything right now because I need to think of her... I have to see her face when I close my eyes or I will become upset. The day's tasks and my little breaks and lunch will come around, I'll take care of everything as needed for the house and my comfort, all the while that woman will be following along as I picture her right next to me over and over again. I know, don't say it. Ga ga, for the millionth time. Back to the concentration. I can get there. One step at a time. Jaime is so beautiful.
The feeling toward this woman has all but disappeared
This morning down the road. We stood outside the car for a few minutes. I watched people come and go like always, those grabbing coffee or visiting the ATM. We always take a little break there and talk before I return north. Today was different. Oh, we stood and discussed whatever we discussed, but then a car pulled up to the coffee house and a mother and daughter exited in their matching masks to approach the counter. [Currently, people cannot enter the coffee house. They are stopped at the door, place an order, and then keep distance until they are called. Such is the world now.] The daughter looked intriguing at the outset of them stepping to the doors. I tried to see her more clearly, but alas there were too many obstructions. Not a big deal, really. I returned my attention, swung my head back to the left, and then my morning collapsed in on itself. A woman had parked around the corner from the market there -- to the left and quite a distance from the main entrance -- and walked past the coffee house while I stared. As I sit here typing, I cannot recall the last time I saw such form. I lost it for a little while and had to right myself as best I could in order to carry on the conversation. And that was a futile effort. My very first thought? Maybe that was her. Here we go with expansion of the most desperate search imaginable. Yes, I am looking for her. Everywhere. Jesus Harold fucking Christ on a snowplow in Winter, I could not believe it. Amazing. Wondrous. Unreal. Stunningly beautiful in her graceful motions. Jaime. Long legs, flowing hair, and nearly all of the time my words fucking fail over and over. I try. I keep trying. The urgency of me continuing these futile attempts to describe Jaime are like plowing shit uphill in hell. I do not even know where to begin. The number of occasions in which I have tried to describe a woman out there in the world is huge, but I kept going no matter how down I felt. At this point and considering the goddess of the universe out there somewhere, I have not felt the same as in the past. Not for days. I spied green pants and boots, height, hair, arms. I saw her for ten seconds before losing her through the doors of the market. Now, before I try to go on about her being unique and likely the most intriguing woman that has crossed my vision in years, the issue of why I was looking in the first place must be explored. Let us make a quick comparison, mmkay? Mmkay. The posters in the garage have begun to come down. That's right, I have removed two, more are in the works when I figure out what to place there, and by the end of tomorrow there will be no more girls out there in my office. Why? We've gone over that already. So, I am willing to make that change (and anyone who knows me at all realizes the gravity of my removing all those women from my workspace), however I stood there when that woman walked by and welded myself to her shape. I was compelled. Why can I still gawk? And the posters are coming down? Disparity? Distance? Well, the woman by the market was real. A person. I cannot help but stare because that is what I have become and there is nothing wrong with looking at another person out there in the world. The issue of the imagery on the walls is different. They are static and hang there day after day. These are displayed forms for which I paid money. Wrong? Again... Not at all. The main difference -- crazy or not -- is that when I see a woman out in the world somewhere, I am looking to see if it is her. That is new. I have to search, and that search has deepened more than I thought possible. I even look at women on the television to see if perhaps she is there. Mush. Goo goo. Meltdown. Her. I am not going to attempt a description. You already know what I see... Everything. The boots, her height, and the shape of her legs drew me over there for a little bit until I was tormented by the fact that upon entering the market I knew she was gone forever. Oh yes, there is a chance I could see her again, perhaps closer or for a longer period of time, but the likelihood is so slender it may as well not exist at all. She was amazing. As I said, nothing that has appeared in my gaze for a very long time looked so unreal. I am not kidding. Just to add insult to injury, I miss her now. I do. Not like Jaime, but I do miss the sight and desire to see more. And then some icing? Elizabeth was just gracing the screen, breasts in full view, and I sunk a bit. This is just a television show, but still I worry that admiring what I do might cause the woman of my dreams to be upset and I can't have that. Hence the posters. Right or wrong, I have to do something. Don't say it. I know. Everyone else seemed to go nuts over Anna, but not me. Strange. Another day in front of me. I need to leave the woman at the shopping center out of my thoughts for a while and carry forward with everything else. I can still see her there, walking so beautifully that I cannot understand, but the endeavor of extricating her from my head is important right now. Jaime is the only one allowed to remain inside me, perpetually. The walnut girl has been reduced to a cute face, my desire to swallow the pool enigmas still fades with each passing day, and the goddess from way back continues to pull at me. More than pull. Much more. I have to keep everything -- including her face -- in good order if I am to move along with my day. So far, she is spinning in there like always. Organization has to begin or I will turn into a lump. Things must be done. The search. Hmm. I can't believe how much it has expanded this week. From a constant need to seek out and stare at those examples of my obsession to the overwhelming desire to find her... This is not good. Perhaps I had no choice as to how my feelings would change after realizing that she is becoming the world to me, or maybe I am just becoming weaker. Either is understandable, neither is good. For whatever reason, she still brings me a measure of comfort, too. I need that woman in my head and knowing she will not leave helps me to think that I can be ok in the long run. If I hold tight to the memory of seeing here there in the courtyard, the subsequent analysis and attempts to understand why push me to maintain a daily lifestyle that feels rewarding by the end of each day. That may sound strange, or maybe I am failing to explain the thought. I don't know, but however it came about, she is helping me to keep my head up and care for myself. I won't say that I am trying to impress her, only that considering my immense feelings for her is driving me to be a better person. There, that will work. I have to know that she would think good things of me. Compelled. Just a short while ago my weakness nearly took over and caused me to drop. Moments passed, I forced myself out of it, and now I feel a tiny bit stronger. All good. Aside from the posters, I do have other little things that can be chipped for me to feel better about the house and its contents. Nothing huge. I do not feel the need to tackle anything like that right now, plus my head changes lanes so often that I can't be in the middle of a project and lose track. I stated before that I am undone -- which is true to an extent -- but I will not let anything else to be the same. No mobsters now, just vampires. Heh. Honestly, Elizabeth is beyond gorgeous. The show is a little gratuitous with the nudity and sex, but still the bottom line is that her beauty shines most while she is clothed. Just a second ago she took a seat with knees together and looked more striking than while nude in the previous episode. Of course, she was young when this was produced and that will always lend to the feeling. Skin, smooth and even. Sitting there in jeans carrying on a conversation pushed her up another notch. She has tons of dark hair, big, dark eyes, and is very cute, but there is something wrong. I can't place it. Looking at her face is not a study, it is a challenge. Something out of place and I have failed to put my finger on it. Whatever. Arlene's lower lip is way cuter, God bless that adorable airhead. Anyway, television aside, seeing the features which push me to look deeper is what took place at the shopping center. I could not help myself and let the door wide open to take in the sight of that woman, eventually realizing that I was not looking at her so much as looking for Jaime. That is a problem. She is out there, maybe, but the odds are not in my favor. I stared at Elizabeth and tried to calculate what was going on that made me think something is wrong. But I understand that I am seeing a character played by an actor that is completely fictional. In that parking lot yesterday I saw a person who began a thought process that now seems very ill-fated. I can stare all fucking day long at the actors and they will never change nor do they force me to search. I am just looking at what I believe is beauty in differing forms. Jaime is not going to show up on the screen, so the forms I see lead me nowhere and I am used to it. The woman yesterday and her legs that will not leave my head immediately made me think of Jaime. Out there? Twelve miles from home? No fucking way. It is possible, of course, because I know that people move around and the word 'impossible' cannot be applied to many parts of life. But still... So unlikely that I may as well give it up. Nope. I can't. Not even eight in the morning and I am already analyzing this deeply. Oy. As of this sentence, 2573 lines dedicated to the current obsession and love. Why?
This model and one other used to be the peak
Driving south yesterday I saw a line of cars off in the distance just past the tunnel. I thought maybe there was one-way traffic control due to the construction, but as I passed I realized they were all parked against the current rules. People were flocking to a small, isolated beach down below which is stunningly beautiful. Well, now is not the time, but the weather has been very warm and some just don't give a crap about the health order and recommendations. The funny thing, as I passed I spied two teen (I think) girls jogging along the ridge to get to the beach. Both had cut-off shorts and half-shirts, breasts and hair bouncing all over the place, and my first thought was, 'way too fucking young to be dressed in such a manner'. I guess no one gives a fuck how their daughters leave the house in warm weather, or maybe they were older. Either way, that section of roadway is narrow, curvy, and more than a hundred feet above the water. Unsafe. Keep your breasts in check, please. I noticed and drove along just fine, but I am on that highway quite often. And I do not need to see things like that because of how they affect the male segment of our population. Oh, don't get me wrong, people can dress as they wish. I am simply saying that the males are going to crane themselves for a peek. Unsafe. The best part is every single vehicle parked there had a ticket on its windshield. Dipshits. Stay home and sun yourself in the yard. Breasts and all. Heh. Searching. Not those girls, you know. The other one. The one in my heart. Oh boy there is Deborah the thumper. Today will be much like yesterday. The posters, chores, television, and some lunch at one point. At this time of each day, I try to map out a few things to help push her back a little bit. If I leave the goddess of the universe at the forefront, nothing will be finished and I will end up a babbling pile. Mumbling. Muttering. Something. I really need her and cannot effectively get that across as I feel it, so the words will have to suffice. Thoughts of her bring me warmth. I think of seeing that less-than-half of her beautiful face and start to lose it a little. I can't help it. She is more beautiful than others that I've seen in 3D right in front of me. I wish I had shot more images, damn it. I already crossed the line with the first press of the release, so why not just go crazy? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. Those three are all I will ever see of her outside a miracle from God. So, keeping my love for her in check today may help me to go a little further than yesterday. At the close of business I need to feel that something has been accomplished. Something more than this. Let's go back to the dream of machines. The idea first came about due to seeing two films, after which I began to realize that my thoughts leaned in the ill-fated direction of control. Now, I've gone into that subject as it has expanded much and into many parts of my daily life. It affects my happiness. The new routine is a prime example of me holding control over the day. My schedule needs to be adhered to always, so I altered as much as was feasible for me to be comfortable, and that means control over my environment. The natural extension of control stemmed from the films and into my head, just as you might expect. The dream of the machinery is related to two facts: The control and selfishness. I want what I want, I have to know that I can count on certain parts, and being selfish is not necessarily a negative. What? Really? Yes. At least, my being selfish about parts of life is a result of a lack of fulfillment on one level, and the control is related. It developed over a long period of time. When I saw the second film, my head blew up at the idea of a machine and the benefits of one so advanced. I know how this sounds, so don't give me a bunch of lip over it. I don't need that. What I do know is the selfish nature of my feelings came about through the dreams, mostly that Asian woman in one very poignant situation. I controlled her. Yes, I just said that. I fucking controlled her but not in a bad way. A selfish way, but not bad. I cared for her, maintained her comfort, and looked after every need she may have had. She cared for me out of a sense of responsibility, though. That is not necessarily good, however I have no control (ha!) over dreams. She was there, all gorgeous and mushy-eyed, to ensure I was happy and comfortable. The woman pictured on this entry (the first two images) is as close an approximation as I can get to that Korean beauty. The situation and our living conditions felt natural, satisfying, and complete. We acted as one. The control was very present, yet I did not see her as a possession, only a lover. And a partner. And a person I loved and needed to make happy. Yes, selfishness. Live with it. It was a dream, for fuck's sake. Now, how much that dream and life bleeds into my reality is entirely up to me. Machinery. An answer to many questions, needs, desires, and hopes, but one that will never come to pass. I have to ensure that I don't lose myself in it. The original Jaime was just what I wished for. Wow, the fucking hair I just saw on the television. Fuck me. Well, Jaime has changed now. She is real, albeit unavailable to me. And her being real is a wonderful thing. No one wants to be a robot. Heh. All bad news again, but at least there was Allie and her big, doe eyes. Gawd damn, what a fucking doll. So bright, vibrant, and beautiful. She reminds me of the goddess up the hill. Jayzus. Selfish. Read it. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Not at all, I am simply willing to lay it out here because I need the fucking outlet. Jaime was fictional until she wasn't. Hence, no more control there. The real woman of my dreams is no longer a machine. She is out there, and as real as the nose on your face. The idea of that Korean dream and my being in control is definitely linked to the nature of people around the world and disparate cultures. The far east has been historically known for breeding and embracing demure women. I have never felt such a life is healthy, though. Those places developed and progressed as they did and had nothing to do with me or my deviant dreaming. The little life I saw while sleeping was satisfying, and a part of it was that beauty partly behaving like a machine responding to me as my needs dictated. I asked, she did. I told, she listened. And on the other side? Exactly the same. I loved and cared for her just as she did me. So, if that is selfish on my part, go fuck yourself. And let me say that I have no idea who the model is. I found those images years ago after I became fascinated and attracted to long, black hair and ran across her at some point. Fucking gorgeous. I do know that she had been attached to the Korean racing circuit, and was overly tall considering the culture. That's it. Look at her. And then stare some more. You'll see. Okay! I'm done with that. Expansion of the search. Why did I bitch about control again? Maybe just to open it and clarify. I don't know. Fuck it anyway. I need what I need. The unrealistic nature of that need is tough. I am dealing with it, though. Uphill. Way uphill. She is out there and it drives me crazy. Damn it. I need her and again feel more than yesterday. The routine is to be my focus now. Jaime will follow along as she has for days, too. Always in me, in my heart like life itself. She is overpowering my ability to separate reality from fantasy so I must hold it together for the long haul. I can do this, and I am still ok. Really. I love her. God help me. Searching fruitlessly. Expanding.
Maybe Jaime looks like Jessica...
Where in the blue fuck do I go from here? Tell me. Another love of mine told me yesterday she believes this will pass. Like a juvenile infatuation. I cannot disagree as I have no idea of what may develop. The woman has wisdom beyond belief, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and how they can affect the head. She cares, and I will not push that away. If she ends up being correct, I will move along as I did prior to being exposed to this fucking goddess from on high. If not, well, you will know. Loss of direction, lack of ambition, emptiness, and the search will never end. Even at this very moment when the news shows citizens in the background of any outdoor shot, I am looking for that face. Call me whatever you wish. I don't care. I need her. I have seen countless forms which stopped me in my tracks and caused me to fall through the floor, but the one from yesterday is driving me up the fucking wall. I cannot get past the sight of her. Damn, just so much unique beauty that my brain needs to be wrung out. And I didn't even see her face, thank Christ. She was different, as if her body came directly from the archives of information that developed inside my head. Different in other ways, too. I immediately linked her to Jaime, and that is not good. I wanted to follow and speak to her, stand close and see her height right before my eyes, and gaze at her face. I needed it. Normally I fall down at the sight and write about it later, whatever remains in memory. Yesterday I yearned for so much more that my mind is awash with her appearance. Moreover, the idea of Jaime being out there somewhere -- as ridiculous as that has become -- pushed me more than in the past when I spotted someone similar. I just can't get over how she looked trotting along past the coffee house. And I have no idea if I would have been better off if she parked elsewhere. As I have said many times, they are out there, all over the place, and the rare occasion allows me to see. This time? I may have seen to much in my fragile state. The need consumed me in seconds. The need to see more, the need to see if she was Jaime, and the now-overpowering desire to go further. Where, you ask? I have no fucking idea, but the image is now fused to my brain. All those other examples of my obsession melted away and only two remained: Jaime and that enigma of a goddess that recently moved through my desperate vision. Ugh. Enigma. Expansion. Fuck. I will never see that woman again and the feeling is one of loss. I am at a loss, twice now. I cannot see more of Jaime nor can I satisfy my curiosity. I am once again tormented beyond belief and it drove me to the point of no patience. She is still in there and I dropped. I fell. Everything is blurred now and there is nothing I can do about it. Something has to change and time must pass or I will drive myself further into a hole. Even working in the garage today did not help. I continued to remove the girls in favor of more traditional keepsakes and became completely dissatisfied by both the process and results. Tomorrow I fully intend to reverse the entire fucking works and then expand the imagery by a large degree. The girls will return, three more will appear out of my distorted sense of decorating, and I can only hope that Jamie would understand. Hope. Heh. Today has been good for the most part. After spending my time taking care of the daily business and more things entering the garage, I am left with a plan to get everything together and in order tomorrow. That will be good for my free time and hopefully keep my head out of that woman's appearance. God help me if the projects and organization do not pan out. At this point, and considering my deep feelings for Jaime coupled with the vision of that gorgeous creature just yesterday, I need some massive distraction. And as the search continues to expand, I have to stay upright. She is out there, somewhere, and I need her. I also need to see more of a woman that has disappeared. Both are now walls against which I will end up ramming my head over and over until the thinking ceases. Still the day has been good. I will keep searching. She is out there, somewhere. The fog rolled in yesterday late afternoon. This morning we are socked the fuck in. Nice and cool, dim, wondrous. These last few weeks have had me either moving away from the heat or chilled to the bone. Deborah has enormous eyes. The words coming out of her mouth are a huge turnoff, unfortunately. That issue takes the beauty away in a hot second. I have no expectations of the behavior of women. None. I see what I see and work around it accordingly. Men? The opposite. I expect it all and am never disappointed. But Deborah is playing a role on a show. It's not her, but it is her. Make sense? She's still lovely. Another morning. This will be different than yesterday as I will be alone for most of the day. Yesterday I made a mental list of things I'd like to do, including this. I am going to reserve some time midday for expansion of this expansion. Heh. That's so stupid it's almost funny. For the time being, I am going to continue trying to figure out the differences between that fucking woman two days ago and all the other examples I have seen recently. Like the server. She was not quite as tall so maybe the height has something to do with it. Honestly, as much as I can be fascinated with height, it is not everything. There are all different shapes and sizes out there, some proportional and others not. Plenty of everything. The features which typically follow those long lines seem to have become a reference point for when I spot a tall beauty. The first thing which stood out when I saw her was the height, and that had been partially exaggerated by boots. They were heeled, maybe lifting her an inch-and-a-half, and to her knees. Black leather boots against green skin-tight pants. Perhaps Gore Tex, I don't know, but they were a bit different than the stretchy, yoga type. And green... Light green, like avocado. and then the French-cut shirt and mass of hair tied high on the back of her head, bouncing according to her gait. She was in somewhat of a hurry, and with those legs I did not see many steps before she disappeared. I noticed the height first. And then colors, boots, ponytail. One possibility is that height or weight will stand out against others, depending upon the people in the surrounding area. Either that or I really am obsessed with the differences. I don't know for sure, but that is definitely what I saw first. The traits mentioned above, a glance to her walk and legs, back to the ponytail, and then she went behind the cars and turned to enter the market. Part of me bounced the idea of sitting there in my car -- or even going so far as to reposition it for a better view when she exited the store -- until she returned, just to see the face. That was key during the last moments, perhaps as it relates to Jaime and the impossibility of ever seeing the rest of hers. That hurts. Just in that half that I can see, there are already three features that I rarely see on a woman's face but are captivating. Fuck me, Benedict now. Oy, I didn't need that. But I will leave the show on for the time being. Yes, she was tall, but that fact did not flip my lid so much as the entire image of her walking. What I saw was amazing, and I do not apply that to just anyone. The server was amazing beyond words (and believe me I tried) that first time before she faded in the proceeding weeks. When I saw her legs over there by the cashier station, I sort of lost my shit a little. I looked as much as was feasible and saw too much. I then wrote kind of a pissy essay about her and my feelings, went back some time later and saw her again. She did not look the same, but nothing about her was different. Same woman, same tight, black pants, same mass of black hair. Everything the same. What had changed was how I viewed her combined with my feelings for the beauty that piqued my interest. The form. Shape. And then her height. The woman by the market went in the opposite direction, but perhaps I need to stop trying to figure out why that happened the way it did. I don't see an answer and getting tired of going over it. The point at which I realized that she was radically different was when I connected her to Jaime. The search. Nothing like that was taking place back when I drooled over the server for five minutes. Not even close. But Jaime is another story. Is she ever.
Lower facial structure, like Cristin, I think
Only because my search has changed so much did that woman hit me upside the head so badly. I have expanded the idea of those forms and the manner in which I have kept my eyes fucking peeled when out in the world. Expansion. The search is partially different now. I am not looking for what I did mere weeks ago, or even those desperate days in the big city with an endless and unavoidable slew of gorgeous, shapely examples of beauty all over the fucking place. That girl on Green Street that I spoke to for a split-second when she smiled, the one that lived in the building, the jogger on California street with the gray pants that paused to adjust her socks and made my brain explode with radii right there in front of me. She was amazing. And then the peak of the deviant mountain, those girls in the office near the piers. Two dishwashers, one faucet, sitting on the floor at knee-level, and they kept coming into the kitchen for something to drink that morning, all the while thanking us for the work. What I saw in there was a hellish reminder of just how fucking crooked I am. Weak. Disheveled. Haphazard thinking. Three images, days pass and I love her, more days pass and my feelings expand, and then the green pants and my wishing that she was Jaime. Years of everything I sought, yearned for, wished for, and obsessed over have built up to an unending and unrealized need for something I felt was impossible. Cut to days ago, I see those images, and now the entire fucking affair is centered upon that woman. The duchess. The love. The beauty of the planet. The tall woman down south only exacerbated my need to find her. My obsession has sent me fucking flying so many times that I have lost count, and now the two lines on either side of me have lost parallel and are focusing my life toward a single point: Her. Wow Arlene is gorgeous sometimes. Jeans. Dawn was another level. Don't get me started. And there is the other dopey blonde that I had forgotten. Jesus fuck she is unbelievably gorgeous. This fucking show, I swear to Christ. Maybe the news was better. Yikes. Okay, that last paragraph wore me out. I need to calm everything down and try to go back to analytical. Lots going on up there, and I am tired of thinking about it. Searching all the time, even while sitting in my new office and working here or on the garage-related crap. I hear someone, I look. A woman walking a dog, a family on bicycles, whatever. I always take a look down the driveway knowing full well that what I am going to see is just people. Everyday people on their everyday business. And if I already know, why do I keep looking? Because maybe Jaime is out there. Read that again. Do you see what I have become? She may be out there. On my street. Maybe. Nuts. But I still hope. The woman in the green pants caused me to look with sharper eyes and more detail apparent in my thoughts because I need to find Jaime. I need to. Need. Fuck. I am screwed. I didn't even see her face which is the key to the whole enchilada. The face. As tall as she was, and as tall as Jaime is in the images (fucking obvious, that one), the face makes or breaks what I may feel. All the rest is simply a structure. I see half her face, if not less. The idea of seeing the rest is overpowering my ability to remain sensible. The search which has gone on for years and years, nearly every second of me being out in society, has expanded to a degree I did not see just days ago. I could not have predicted my feelings for her... Not even close. I have ten-thousand-plus images of the female form in one manner or another on this very machine, and half her face sent me into orbit. I am still there. The words are flowing but I have no idea if this is easy to follow. I have no wish to be a pain. I used to wish for tons of money so I could go wherever I needed for comfort and autonomy. I wished all the time to be able to get away from everything. While in the Midwest and that fucking humidity I could not control, the dreams of huge yachts, air-conditioned hotels, and cars that appealed to me (mostly the Slipper) took me to places in my mind. The visions were strong at the time, but in the end only lent to the depressive nature which was real life because I turned my back on the correct choices and embraced the comfortable choices. It eventually led to relying on daydreaming and drawing to keep me going from one day to the next. That was difficult, but in time I made it out of the din and succeeded, for the most part. Those dreams were very powerful. Wishing for millions helped me to envision what I would do and where I could go. I'm sure others have done the same. Now? I don't need all that shit. It would be nice, but does not look the same as all those years ago when I felt stuck. What I need is much more difficult to attain, and infinitely more valuable to me. Her. The face. My dream. Just to see her. Foggy this morning. So different from the last several days of sunshine before seven. Yeah, I do not like the sun all the time and the lateness of it setting. I have complained about the seasons for years, although now the bitching has eased due to the cool air and the issues filling my head for days. Even through the heat I did not really have a problem because I am in one of the coolest areas of this part of the state. That move really allowed me to find more physical comfort than in the previous ten years or more. Nice and cool all the time. And the lack of brightness keeps me comfortable as well. In a little while I will be driving my usual route south and returning shortly thereafter. A little pause at the destination and then back here. Well, today might be a tiny bit different because I will be desperately scanning the area for that woman. Yep, I saw her once and that means she may regularly shop there. The vision was two days ago. Perhaps she needs something from the store and the morning is a good time to shop. Heh. All so I can see her again, amazingly constructed and one of the enigmas which spin me to no end. Hopefully she will walk by, and hopefully she will not. I need to see her again and I need to stop looking. I have to find Jaime and I know that the chance is unlikely. Will I search anyway? Yes. I am too weak not to dream that the green pants were wrapped around the duchess and her long legs. Don't tell me the fucking odds, either. I know. Ok, on to today. I have things to do, stuff to organize after shopping, and projects. I always take care of the inside chores first and then move on to the rest. One is the clock I have been battling for years. I put a new, high-torque movement in it and reassembled the other day, but the hands are so long that they came in contact with each other and stopped the motion. I can only hope the movement was not damaged. I have to go back inside it and make adjustments. I will try again today as that clock goes back to the days of the cave and means much. It's been hanging out in the patio for many years and I love it. The memory of first buying it when I was holed up for months is a fond one. Oh boy, that screwy-headed religious blonde with the nose of noses just appeared on the screen. She is adorable and completely nuts. Back when I first watched this show she became one of the rarities that I immediately wished to jump. Not anymore. That was years ago and my world and feelings are completely different now. Whatever, she is still cute as hell with a mass of hair and always beautifully dressed. I will arrive at the shopping center in just over an hour and will be desperately scanning the area for that woman whom I cannot adequately describe. Falling back into my mobile cocoon will be a disappointment, I already know. Upon returning home all goo goo over her in a little while, I intend to go on about my routine like any other day. This will expand, dreams of the duchess will invade, and I will move forward as always. I am looking forward to some of it, the time to myself, the little breaks in the garage while the sound of the television keeps me company in the background, and eventually I will move to the new office and start a new entry. Then I will return south in the afternoon feeling satisfied of my efforts. Jaime follows along, always. In my head, heart, and often still in my eyes. Her face and hair. A dream unlike any other. And yes, after the course of another entry awaiting publishing, I feel more for her. The words here have not gushed as before, but believe me when I say that she is all the way inside me. Dreaming, expanding, waiting. She is out there."
This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
legal
about
clodmaster
archive
home
