July 22nd, 2021 6:55am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Arina read ( words) "Nothing is going to work no matter what I attempt or surmise. Nothing. I already know. Relegated by both my own limitations and the pressure from outside. Time and circumstance. 176. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The eyes again. I wish I could live in there. No joy. My receiver arrived yesterday and I swapped it with the old one very quickly after unboxing. I had been looking forward to the functionality and extensive feature set for some time before actually seeing the thing right there on my bench. The type I chose is thirty years old and was all over my head during the mid-glow. The brand in question was breaking ground in so many areas at that time that my head spun whenever looking around the electronics stores. I don't recall the specific model of this one, but it was there. The display barely works and is one of the best features. I did some research and learned that there are a few weak components on the main board which I can replace easily. Sometimes the troubleshooting background comes in handy, although I rarely am able to use the ingenuity. I'll open up the machine later this morning and see what I can find. Hopefully everything is straightforward. The schematics and board layout diagrams are plenty clear. Months ago I wrote about feeling a tremendous loss over the glow and how that period compares to everything else since. Well, the imagery still stirs me. Unpacking the receiver yesterday brought that period back to the forefront and I gazed at the labeling, layout and features all over the front panel of my new toy which almost immediately transported me back in time. There was no way I could afford something so sophisticated back then, and now technology has advanced so much that they are nearly obsolete. Very affordable if a person has the inclination to babysit the equipment. Nothing made these days has the same level of intrigue and warmth. All of the latest technology is cold. That was one of the most exciting facets of the glow... Technology was still new and exciting, whereas now nothing seems to blow my skirt up. I was constantly looking forward to what may come next. Well, all that has passed into history and the new has become the boring. Such an idea means the glow is appearing that much better now. I really did not need anything piled atop my latest depression, but the receiver brought it all back. If I get pissed off, I'll build an entire system from that era and shoot images of it just to make others wonder. All that stuff is still deep in my heart. We are just two weeks into summer and the weather is becoming cooler each day. Crazy. My mood lately seems to match the gray outside. Sometimes I like it and other times I don't, but no one controls the weather anyway. Hopefully this doesn't curtail my chances of doing a little repair later. And the house is not mine today. Whatever. I can work with it. Fantasy taking shape. I opened the receiver case and found that indeed there is a fried resistor which lends to the main display. I believe it was a common problem, too, because there is information all over the net on how to repair. The component is undersized with regard to current, meaning over time it was destined to fail. I already ordered a replacement to arrive tomorrow. I also learned of how to connect the external equalizer, so upon installing the new resistor I can get everything connected. That leaves but one hurdle which is the subwoofer. One step at a time. Many would probably figure that repairing a recent purchase is no good, but such is the nature of electronics of that age. The character still far outweighs issues. For me, it is part audio and part nostalgia. The glow... Ever growing and creating the worst gradient imaginable. Back then I was not focused upon any one technology. The most likely direction was toward the televisions due to how amazingly the features were developing. Everything, though. All the way back to the shortwave radio revolution a few years earlier. I dreamed of the units and the way they miniaturized everything. Cut back to the glow and technology was flying high. The stores (not that big one which recently shuttered), the huge mall with many different places offering whatever was selling well at the time, and the walks through those hallways as my eyes darted left to right. Right down to the telephone I purchased for my parents. The receiver out there sitting on my work bench in pieces is a sharp representation of those years. I needed it, and even the prior unit which drove all the speakers well was just fine. I was not in need of a replacement. Dreaming of the glow drove me to find something which could remind me of that time each day. Good or bad, I did it. And I will go further if the opportunity arises. Drowning into anything which brings a smile is more important than ever. 175. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Ah... Yesterday. Wipe it right the hell off the calendar. Two long movies and a bunch of wasted time, really. The only upside is the diagnosis and part identification of the receiver. I have the old one reconnected temporarily. Hopefully the part will arrive early today rather than later so I can have it up and running while still enjoying the alone hours. The subwoofer issue is going to take some time. I may do an end-around and add a huge preamplifier to the chain for no good reason other than another huge display and a reliable, proper subwoofer output. These days I need the smile to keep my head up. And speaking of head up... The two films have not been viewed by me for several years. I recall them being a part of the secondary glow, somewhat. We did not run to the theatre when they premiered, so watching at home on my new-ish television was the choice. My nephew and I used to have a similar crush on one of the stars, making the film (especially the second in line) more enjoyable when he was visiting. The image looked amazing, too, thanks to the leap in technology. That period is right behind the glowing years. Between those times, the work and my buddy were what kept me going. That was also when the technology was growing by leaps and bounds. My dad was trying to build a home theatre system and required my help in choosing components. The films came later. The period of time in question was fairly short. Less than a year and a half, honestly. Lots of changes came quickly and on the heels of each other shortly after my alone time and spending the evenings and weekends with my parents. The audio and video soon leaped from their living room to the car, meaning my buddy and I were constantly trying to improve the sound in his car and I had been angling to get some of Sony's mobile technology into mine. The latter included some amazing gear for replicating the home entertainment system in my vehicle. Between trips to the electronics retailers and magazine articles, my head was awash with options. Maybe I will embrace the big preamp and other items and end up with a stack. Why not? And it looks like today may be the repeat of that fateful episode featuring a long conversation which originally led me to the eyes. I'll be staring again because I am a pathetic basket case when it comes to her face. I am far too weak to do what is best for myself anymore. I have to see. Afterward? Dreaming, falling, whatever. I don't fucking care anymore. I'll gaze again because I have to. God damn it, there she is. Big, beautiful eyes floating in a world I have tried over and over to drown within, but to no avail. Impossible, like the other world. And I was in that one two days ago. Trying, anyway. This one is different, though. Very different. And it's not just her eyes, either. It's the entire idea of being within the fold of the industry combined with needing comfort of a type otherwise unavailable. Hmm... That is not far from 'unreal', a term which applies to everything toward which I have run for a fucking year. Her eyes are just one facet of yet another fucking geometric shape I cannot avoid. This whole season -- all of nine episodes -- is going to cripple me. After? Back to the beginning for the fifth time in recent memory, just to do it all over again because of whatever snapped inside me. Oh, those windows. Maybe my life would be improved had I never seen them. Wasn't I speaking about audio? I cannot believe how much the equipment brings me back to better times. Perhaps the idea of building a system out there for nostalgia is both good and bad... Mostly good. The memories are positive and seeing everything in operation could be good for my mood. Right now I don't know. I will say that digging into the receiver with repair in mind has brought back my years of troubleshooting equipment when I worked for my parents, and when combined with dreams of all that technology on display during the glow, the result is heartwarming. I guess I'll keep going and see where this leads. Cindy (pictured) is now 'Arina'. Don't ask. Another impossibility, and one I am trying to combine with the eyes. The whole shitaree is rolled up into a few episodes of this program, as well. She is Thracian, too. Again... Don't fucking ask. The name will probably change soon anyway. By the end of this entry, Arina will have formed into something I both love and hate, but at least she will be fucking gorgeous. Hopefully the resistors will arrive at a decent hour today. I'm looking forward to seeing the big display lit nicely. I've always leaned toward visual information, hence twin analyzers between the receiver and equalizer. The whole thing should prove lovely. Hours to myself now. Most of the day. Afternoon and still no resistors. Plus, the face graced the screen a short time ago and sent me flying. I should just expect it because nothing will stop me from watching. The fact is she moved me more in the last year than ever before. Something happened there. Something. I can't help it anymore. Still watching. I laid it out in 'The Plateau of Strife' and feel even more strongly now, six months later. Believe it. The feelings will eventually be my undoing. Or, at least a part of it. 174. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? My parts arrived in good time and I installed the little guy, after which I had to leave the thing unplugged for a while so the voltages drained completely and reset all the microprocessors. After that? The big display works just fine. Oh, there are a few dim spots from age, but overall it looks really nice. On top of that small victory, I decided to use the receiver as a preamplifier and leave the HK to drive the speakers. The equalizer is still a bit of a mystery, so in the meantime I am using the one built into the receiver. Soon I will work that detail out and flatten one of them to avoid overdriving. The main idea is solid, though, no matter what happens with the equalizers. Between television and music, I now have better control and everything connected the way I wanted in the first place. If the HK hadn't been such a boring pain in the ass, the preamp would not have been necessary. Now that all three components are working properly, I can leave everything alone until the next big advance. Maybe later in the year. Arina is coming together a little at a time. One part of her will be on the screen later. No, not here. The morning will move along and I'll be alone in less than an hour. Yesterday the work went fine and I did not feel that useless crap at all. Today I'll have to remain mindful of the time and do what I can. As usual, the very idea of hours alone feels wonderful. Hopefully that feeling does not change later today. Those old fears began to return this morning so I switched the media to an old movie from just prior to the glow. None of those problems existed back then. They honestly did not show up until much later, although my insides were screwed up despite the wondrous nature of the world. I can work with it all today because my space means control and comfort. Right now the time ahead seems wide open to my needs. The mornings do not always come across as such, however, because my brain will often manufacture shit out of thin air. Not today, thank the maker. I believe the media system yesterday sort of jump started my brain in the direction of organization like weeks ago. We shall see forsooth. That episode with the protracted discussion and eyes aired in the afternoon, and just before I went out to the garage and repaired the new receiver. The scene came and went, I spun myself into a frothy mess, and then the afternoon wore on. No harm done in the short term. Arina will be the deciding factor. She is growing in importance and the fantasy equally so. I don't know what is going to happen with that stuff, but honestly do not see a good outcome. We have to drive to the city today like last week. A disc player needs to be hooked up or something, and apparently I am the only person who can do it. Splendid. The upside is the feeling of arriving home again later and relaxing. Last time? I was overjoyed to get back here and hide behind the door. Today will be no different. Until then, I have time to get my things in order for the evening. I just spent a decent portion of time seeking images of higher quality for an upcoming entry (which no one will see anyway, but I have to like them and feel they fit the theme), most of which are you-know-who. I actually located one in which she is quite a bit older (likely the last five years or so) and looks more natural than the modeling images. Honestly? I prefer stills captured from the digital video of the show over those shot for magazines or interviews. The character is the thing, unlike some other figures. And that brings something to mind... Someone effectively trivialized my long-winded description of Jaime and all I feel for such a dream. That is not very nice, however I am certain that person did not realize the gravity and danger in taking something absolutely dire to my mental stability and making cold comments. Well, all the text (or nearly all) about that name is now absent from the site, and the next time someone takes issue with my feelings on the subject... Well, my reaction will not be good. The machine came to this space for damned good reason, and I cannot have people thinking it is just a silly fetish. I am talking about my ability to cope, for fuck's sake, and if you don't agree? That is fine. Everyone is entitled to whatever they may think or feel. Just do not express it to me. Ever. Ok, enough of that. Wow, was she ever thin at the beginning. I realize nearly two years passed between the pilot production and the second episode actually airing, but just... Wow. Eating disorder, too. The girl had her share of troubles. Thank Christ she recovered. The ride today may be a chore and it may not. Last time I was very worried and full of anxiety, yet in the end everything went fine. Perhaps focusing upon the previous trip will help calm me this morning. The bottom line is I need to work with the audio/video again and then we will leave. Not a big deal in the grand scheme. Every time I leave the house to do something, the joy in arriving home again ends up outweighing the difficulty. Focus. I'll be fine. This morning? I cannot WAIT to be back here safe and sound after that crap. All the old content is gone now. Only I have access because I no longer want anyone seeing this. Just a few months of archived entries remain. As soon as I feel enough time has passed for readers to be caught up, just one title will be here. Arina is the name for the time being. 173. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Out of the house yesterday for three different operations. The city drive and subsequent work on her television went ok, although she insisted we have cake and coffee afterward. That was rather goofy and uncomfortable after having had no lunch. We dashed out eventually and made tracks home. And then the goodbye gathering for the gentleman who stored his motorcycle here for almost a year... At a brewery. Some good and some not so good, the worst being most of the younger people spending time and appearing bright-eyed and hopeful. That is perfectly fine for them, I just don't need to be near that sort of thing anymore. After a little while we left for home a second time and then decided dinner was not going to be cooked by us. Back out the door to a local restaurant which served an excellent meal, yet somehow the occasion was very sad. The owners are aging and seeing such a fact breaks my heart. Each stop yesterday displayed its own difficulty and at least one reason I have created such a comfortable world within this house. Yes, I needed to see the couple before they move back east in a little over a week, but honestly we could have stopped in for just a moment rather than visiting for more than an hour. I just didn't think a short visit would have been polite, plus when he greeted me I could see the joy in our being there. Almost worthwhile. The city was not too bad, really, other than feeling forced to be patient. The restaurant took the cake, however. That was a toughie. Seeing them is nice but carries that underlying thought that they are not going to be operating that restaurant for much longer. Our server was really sweet and attentive which helped maintain the nice, calm atmosphere. Upon returning home, all three destinations began to work on my head even more than at the time and I ended up pretty damned tired of thinking. This day could not have come at a better point in the week. Thinking more and more about Arina and what she may mean in the coming weeks. I still don't know. Looking at Cindy's images sometimes pushes me to think that what goes on inside during certain times is driven by parts of my psyche I do not wish to acknowledge. I really don't, although the cryptic nature of some entries means I can generally spew whatever goes on inside without worry of backlash. I've done it before, too. Plenty. There is much more than meets the eye (ear), and this goes all the way back to the car salesperson. It really does, and then a few other occasions between her and the one at the pool, not to mention anything on television from one day to the next. Arina is growing into a representation of everything all rolled up and tied with a bow. Everything from the car dealership to the Realtor, and from Maggie to the one at the pool, then on to those images down south and heading straight for a chef I see from time to time. Toss in the fictional characters built from my own experiences and the resulting salad is a fucking mess. Arina is that salad. I need to keep her close and work out the details to effect change upon this life I am living. Cindy and the other one (Maja?) are about as aligned with the dreams as I can see right now, so here they (she) are (is). Whatever. Yesterday is still pushing on me. Problems, problems and more problems are pushing me to retract yet keep the knives at the ready. I have already pulled back quite a bit in the last week, with more coming each day. Look at Cindy's unreal makeup. Jesus, those artists know their stuff. I guess there is little point in my trying to understand some of the buried crap which began at the car dealership. A solution may not be forthcoming and brushes against one of the primary reasons for me avoiding anything psychological in school years ago... The unknown. It is not an exact science and lacks tons of clear answers. I was told such a discipline does not match my personality. No arguing that one. It just points toward the understanding of such issues over beauty and trying to learn of either the genesis or a coping method. So far, I have only learned there can be no shutting it off. There are long periods of flaring followed by some calm, after which I seem to write about it here and then experience tons of anxiety before finally giving up for a time. And then it happens again, usually after some kind of vision. And they will never go away. I can keep trying, but the effort is feeling more futile now than ever. Yesterday worked on my head until I fell off a cliff, and this morning is beginning to head in the same direction. I suppose the things I must accomplish each day are going to have to suffice for now. I am not educated in this stuff. Damn was Jamie ever thin in the first season, after the delay between pilot and second episode. By the time number five was shot? Too thin. The eating disorder. Thank Christ she recovered. I've heard people joking about the back-and-forth weight and appearance between seasons one and four, but I do not find any such things funny at all. She is a person above all other descriptors. Yes, I am head over heels for the character, but even before realizing such a fact I still felt compassion. Stick it. Don't get me started on the sixth season. Heh. Makes my heart hurt. This morning is very peaceful and quiet. Yesterday's trip to the city has facilitated an entire day without either of us needing to go anywhere. I still have my usual chores, though. Very enjoyable, those things. I'll have the show in the background (fourth), probably a small cocktail to go with the atmosphere, and then out to the garage to maximize storage space and garbage. After that I have a new flag pole and bracket to install. A little more work in the garage, too. The space is looking better, but more importantly it is very useful. We no longer have stacks of things here and there clogging up the works. I like to keep three areas functional, those being the laundry, space in front of the refrigerator and pantry, and the chest freezer. As long as everything is kept neat, we can access what is needed without issue. My work bench and table usually bear the brunt of too much crap out there, but at least I can work with it. Two days ago I pulled apart the old platform which used to live under my mattress. Some good wood was yielded, too. Very nice. I'll have to see if the material fits in the trash can this week. A little at a time can be tossed, so eventually everything will be gone. The wood may serve to create a small door in front of the water heater that will display another flag and hide my ladders. I will hinge the door, too. Almost time to transition into Sunday mode. Just for posterity: I know the problem. It is fully defined and will not go away. I am the product of societal influence and loss. I know what it is. Cannot spell it out, though. No labeling here, ever. 172. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I figured yesterday would be hit or miss because of all that time. I did go to the market for a few things and then went about the day at whatever pace seemed right. The new flag hardware is all installed and I made sure to maximize the garbage space. Other than those, not much was accomplished. Fifteen months have passed since I wrote (gushed) about the girl in the walnut commercial. I was just thinking about that because of the title and the fact that I've had the gangsters up there on my big television for weeks now. Jamie is not the reason, although her eyes do pull at me (I think I've made that clear). The title of the essay includes her name because that may have been the real beginning to my falling all over myself. Just in the last few months have the feelings REALLY expanded and have me bereft of solutions. There are always possible reasons, though, not the least of which is my penchant for dreaming of unattainable people and places. The walnut girl was a catalyst, just like those sisters at the pool. They were in the essay, too. Interesting that I slowed thinking of the thongs but now have been reminded of the walnut issue and everything it entailed. This could be bad, but at such a point in time and after all the shit I've written, 'bad' may not matter. I removed Jamie's name from the title. I think the walnut girl is a part of Arina. That is the feeling, anyway. Splendid. And there is another... I won't go into it right now. Images of her are scarce and I'm not going to bang my head against the concrete scouring the Internet. I've done enough of that for a lifetime. The whole day is in front of me. Hours. And the routine is finished. I may go to the market soon. Gangsters. Everything here is going to be the same aside from the dreamy, ethereal woman/figure/whatever which now has another name. She is the point of this whole thing and all the rest of the words are coming out of desperation. That means I have little to say anymore, hence the end of the site last month. There is no reason to publish anything. In fact, I dressed up the index with a nice image representing a departure of sorts and aligned all the links on the navbar to point nowhere. People will not like it but I don't care. This was outlined in the last published entry a few weeks ago. If that was not clear enough, too bad. My place, this shit. Mine. Go build your own. I suppose heading to the store is fine. I need alcohol for the evening and I may pick up a few snacks just in case the down time this afternoon runs long. Something has to help. The hardware store is awaiting a return plus I may need a few things once I think about it. In four days I am to meet a guy to help with some work and I don't know how I feel about it. It's only supposed to be a day and a half, yet I am apprehensive anyway. Probably all this fucking time of being almost completely isolated has jaded me even more than I had thought months ago when there was a chance of working in the city, full time. Ugh. There had been nothing on the horizon for a long while and then this came up last week. I'll go and meet the guy Thursday, however I have no idea how I am going to react until the day of. I agreed just to make others happy, not me. My only comfort is here in this house. Nowhere else. And though work is work and not always designed to be enjoyable, I am still worried. 171. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? No gangsters yet. I had to get her out the door and needed something mellow in the background while working. Soon I will make the switch and head into my little world. Arina was on my mind both last night and again early this morning. A few days ago we watched an episode of the show in the City and I saw an amazing face. A facet, and a reminder of Arina and her ongoing transition from several different characters to the one I need. Arina. Yep. Add to that a boost in my finances this morning and the comfort level at home right now is good. Between the time and space for me to dream of what I can and the helpful nature of stability in the house, today may be a high point of sorts. Some days the very idea of being holed up in here alone and secure brings me a solace otherwise unavailable in the world. Arina will become a part of that. Soon the eyes will assist. Cindy, too. This day will not be a trial like the last. I already know. Little steps here and there along with some time for thinking about the larger picture. 171 equals fail. Italians all over the screen stabbing my heart endlessly. I used to be in that club. So, almost time to put this away and work around the house. That beautiful yet scary woman is in this episode looking like a million bucks which can slice a person to ribbons. Oy. Anyway, upon publishing, I will probably try to work in the kitchen for a little while and then meander out to the garage to go through shit from last Saturday. Between today and tomorrow I would like to have that space in order again. Well, today is a bit different. I began the process of removing our hedge along the house side of the driveway. Lots of work, that one. I'll have to go a little at a time to ensure there is room in the green can. I only went about two feet along the side and already the can is two-thirds full. It's going to take several weeks for the whole thing to be gone. Geez. I also did the usual housework and moved some more stuff around in the office to help keep it organized. Arina has been following along. Every time I pause for one reason or another she is right there, albeit incomplete. Following, always. Karina is just behind her and looking like Kana. Kana handed me my cocktail and smiled, hair everywhere. I almost lost it. That was nearly eleven years ago and I can still see her face as if it was yesterday. Prior to seeing that Japanese beauty waddling around the casino, I had created a fictional woman with the same name who was one of four sisters and part of a story I was writing. That fell by the wayside but the four names stuck with me pretty well. When I turned and saw her dark skin, black hair and amazing, slender figure, I nearly lost the ability to speak. I asked if she was a hybrid, to which she responded with a resounding no. I complimented her gently and went on with my evening. Sometimes I can still see her because another woman all over the Internet resembles Kana enough to keep the image fairly clear. The model's name is Keilah. No meaning there, just appearance. Kana? She has become rolled up with the rest. Probably not a good thing. Karina was one of her sisters. Ugh, the work is two days from now and I am feeling a measure of worry. Not too much anxiety (not physical), just worry. I hope the feeling does not amplify and cause me to cancel. Something like that could make me look bad to others and I can't have it right now. I am hoping it turns in on itself like those two trips to the city. Upon reaching our destination both times, I felt better, and then when we left to head home nearly all of the worry was gone. Honestly? If I feel going with the guy to help with his projects is going to harm me I will dump the plan completely. I have to look out for number one right now, and that means remaining in this house for as long as is necessary for my apprehension to dissipate. If it never does? I'll be right fucking here. So far, I am doing my best to see the work as a small, temporary deviation from my world. More of Cindy. I just cannot avoid staring at her form and face. She kills me. Brazilian, of course, and all of five-eight. Not an inch of that is out of place. If only she could have avoided the high jeans. Heh. At least you can see that she walks like a model. She is here again not only for the obvious unbelievable beauty, but also due to my deciding against more Jamie unless the images are captured from video. I really don't feel like doing the legwork, so Cindy is option two. Three will be Maja again, eventually. The neighbor stopped by to shoot the shit a little. Very nice, that guy. I always enjoying catching up with those around the street. You never know when there will be trouble, and familiarity with neighbors can come in handy. Nice people here. Gangsters, second season. The funding extension is supporting my need to remain at home for the duration, and just last year at this time I had been concerned with when it might run out. Apparently, the economy has not recovered and we are deep into a massive recession, meaning I am among millions with no other options but to wait. I'm going to look into entry-level positions in some office atmospheres for peace of mind. Fortunately, there is plenty of time for me to be picky. Months ago I stated my deep hesitation in reentering the workforce, and now I feel somewhat relaxed about the idea as long as I can slide into something comfortable and secure. An office could be ideal if I qualify. Age and a lack of diplomas are the sticking points. Can't do anything about them. Right now I can say in all seriousness that the extension has calmed me tremendously. The help I plan to provide two days from now is all cash, thank God. 'It is an affront to our holy sacristy.' No eyes for a while. They will probably come around the bend toward the end of the week depending upon the work situation. In the evening I have been running the fourth show for comfort. That one has risen to a close second behind the chief entry in the franchise. There are still some difficulties, however my extensive understanding and experience help to push them to the rear quickly. After the fourth show runs its course, I may go back to the second. Not sure yet. Daytime may be ruled by the gangsters. 170. I'll have the house to myself a half hour earlier today. Very nice. After yesterday I could use a little more peace and quiet. I keep thinking about the work tomorrow and Friday, although I'm more comfortable about it than I was at this hour yesterday. I took care of a few small items after nearly losing my way and am feeling pretty proud of pushing like that. Some days I just can't do it and then the evening fails to feel deserved. I'll ensure things move along in good form just for that reason. Just fucking look at the woman. Speaking of affronts, the issue which slapped me some months ago and caused my cutting off some of the movies and actors from my list of acceptable media came up last night in the background. It really did, and buried within a show I figured was going to move along without problems. Well, for the most part there are no problems and I can enjoy the content comfortably. There was a reminder and a rather pointed remark which would likely be meaningless to everyone save for me. The last couple of weeks with me closed off from people have resulted in more clear thinking. No distractions whatsoever and the space to be what I need. Last night came and went, causing nothing more than a quick reminder of some conversations in the past. The problem is still there -- inside me with all the rest -- yet for whatever reason does not press me as much as a few months ago. I believe my antisocial stance is a possible cause. No choice there. Not anymore. After taking care of the morning business I began to think about the film playing up on my television and the era in which it first premiered. This is a reminder of those days working at my first job ever, the butcher shop. My boss took me two cities north to see it with him and I remember most of the evening. That was eighty-five, believe it or not, and a time when satellite and cable broadcasts were changing. The connection I had with satellites during the late glow (CD changer girl... That place) was intriguing and flared as I read about dishes. The old c-band information is apparently still there, somewhat, though everything has been completely tightened up for the sake of profit these days. Anything compelling or fascinating seems to have been abandoned in favor of some large company taking control of a standard and exploiting it for their own good fortune. The whole thing makes me want to put up some antennae and learn what is out there. Heh. I have to do something to set myself apart from the image in my head. No, not an image of another person, nor the idea of doing something to distance myself from others. I mean I need to move in such a direction so as to reverse the image in the mirror. This will take some effort and concentration. I have no idea, but I can say that the thinking process is related to the satellite signals floating around in the atmosphere. All I have is an oscilloscope -- which cannot do much with regard to RF -- and a multimeter at present. A spectrum analyzer would be ideal in centering upon specific frequencies. Unfortunately, that is not in the cards right now. Perhaps I can get some things sold and generate enough funds for something simple. After that I can learn as to how I can do something with those signals. A broadcast could be the best idea. Much learning is on tap for the time being. Learning is still free, thank goodness, as are any signals floating up there. Switch. Arina. The girl on the farm pushed her back to the forefront. I have to turn off that show due to the rampant, endless thoughts she brings to mind. Don't fucking get me started, please. Gangsters again, too. I don't know how many different women are rolled into Arina now. Perhaps ten. The entire idea is ridiculous and should be avoided, yet I have no idea of how to keep it at bay. Maybe I should not write about her for a while. The title stays, though. A good portion of the draw is all over the sixteen images here. Just fucking look at her. The doe-eyes of the universe. Second to the other eyes, too, believe it or not. I went to the jewelry store to have the watch repaired and then to the market for a few things. Not yet one in the afternoon and I am running out of gas already. Something will come along I'm sure, but for now I'll sit here. No worry over the work tomorrow and Friday. I was concerned more yesterday but now it has passed. Hopefully it will not return in the morning. Only a half day tomorrow and then most of Friday. Not that big of a deal. The situation just reminds me of all the time here for the last fifteen months and how deeply I've embedded myself in this house. The shindig on the fourth a couple of weeks ago, my friend's little gathering for his going-away, and the neighbor stopping by yesterday have not added up to shit, so perhaps I'll be fine tomorrow. Going out to two stores went fine. I always try to shop before lunch as most places are fairly empty. Still, and no matter how smoothly any trip outside goes, I still swell with comfort upon entering this house again. That is one aspect of the upcoming work on which I am trying to focus. What the hell have I turned into? Don't want to leave the house? I know all those years of being mired in a toilsome and troubling line of work sure made me worship the time off, but Jesus... Was it THAT bad? Maybe. But now? What happened? Was I always in need of remaining home and having total control over the atmosphere? Again... Maybe. I suppose I did not put things together in the past as I did just last year when the shit hit the fan. Whatever happened, I am radically different than months ago. Oh, I enjoyed the time and space alone and formed this little world to my preferences, but honestly I feel different. And? Differently. I no longer have any wish to commiserate with others at the bar like years ago. I don't have visions of big parties here with the grill going and music everywhere, either. None of it. I have become perfectly content in this house with my stuff at the ready and the media of choice. As soon as I hear the voices of others? I want to run away. I've never been this withdrawn. Jesus fuck is Barbara ever gorgeous in this episode and the last. I can't put my finger on why, but suffice to say she is stunning in any scene. Doe eyes? Maybe somewhat. But there is something which pulls at my heart when I see her, smiling or not. 169. I have to go meet that guy in a couple of hours. Ugh. I wish I could stay here, but at least the contrast will be very apparent afterward. The joy in arriving home will hopefully make the whole kluge worthwhile. The operative word is 'hopefully'. Yesterday turned out to be ok and I did not lose my way as much as other days. I am nervous right now. Don't like it. I did not go. As the time approached to get ready and leave, the feeling of being out there with someone unfamiliar and in a place over which I cannot possibly have any control took over my senses and knotted my stomach to the point of realizing I have to stay here. I'm sure the guy is disappointed, yet the positive aspects are clear: I am right where I need to be for my sanity, and she is very understanding. In fact, before she took off for work, she was more concerned for my well-being than the work I was supposed to do. I just cannot do it right now. As was suspected many months ago after the trip south for lunch and shopping (the same day of that fateful viewing of the woman in the parking garage), I may no longer be equipped to handle anything similar to my previous career. Too many unknowns there, plus the idea of never knowing where we may end up nor what each job may entail. I had enough of that for several years, sometimes working to my advantage but all too often turning into a very uncomfortable situation. Now I am alone for the day and could not be more secure in the idea of remaining at home. Hopefully the good will soon outweigh the bad. As I said, I do not know the guy with whom I would have been working, which means little to no fallout. I am not employed by anyone, and as such can enjoy the freedom of using my favorite word... NO. This day must be all mine. I need just under thirty-seven minutes and the comfort will arrive. I know it. She said I am beginning to live as if I have a disability. Hmm. Not good, especially considering another person noticed enough to make such a comment. She may be right. If so? I'm in trouble. The issue may be related to when I leave the house to go to the market or hardware in that when I do, the time is completely under my control. Yes, that word again. If I have to go out these days, whatever I do and wherever I go is entirely up to me and my sense of comfort and security. Work can be the opposite. Not good. Jesus holy God in heaven does Jamie's fucking hair ever look stunning at the beginning of this episode. I do not understand at all. Whatever. Twelve minutes to comfort. Today I am going to do my usual routine and some laundry. Holed up, behind the locked doors, and full of love for the familiar. Yesterday I took some of the wood left over from dismantling our old bed platform and built a framework to hold one of my flags in the garage. I am going to add hinges and mount it in front of the water heater to hide things. The ladders are back there, too. I had the flag pinned to the speaker shelf on the fourth and the appearance was nice. The wood from the platform facilitated the idea for a door of sorts. I might go out and get hinges later and continue the project. Two reasons for the door: One, the wind tends to cause the flag to blow all over the place (near the water heater such is not good) and the flag will remain fully visible, and two, I will have easier access to whatever may be stored behind it. Plus, it's something to both occupy my time and enhance the area. The issue out there now is the fact that I recently repaired the display on my new receiver and the fucking thing went dark yesterday while working on the door frame. The system is all nice and neat, meaning if I wish to go back inside the unit and see if the same resistor is fried, I'll have to disassemble the stack again. Just... Ugh. Those early nineties models are notorious for having flaky display circuitry. I may have made a mistake in purchasing something known to have issues over the years. Fortunately, it was not expensive. I'll have to do more research before choosing an avenue. Very disappointing. I have nearly a hundred more resistors (they are only sold in bulk), but I'll be damned if I'm going to rework the fucking thing every week. Nine o'clock. Comfort, at last. All alone, left to whatever I feel needs to be done, and everything is now under my complete control. Sound familiar? Pause. Routine finished. Gangsters keeping me company. Again I have been considering whatever it is I have become. The fear this morning drove us into an uncomfortable situation, after which I inquired as to how I may appear to her. I was very worried. The answer was that she is concerned about me but not upset in any way. The very mention of some sort of disability really threw me for a loop this morning. I am calmer now -- mostly due to being where I need -- and having remained home today and forgoing any outside work has diminished the worry quite a bit. This is becoming a larger issue than I had described months ago. If my condition turns out to be an extension or some sort of underlying reinforcement of long-term depression, I may be holed up in this little house forever. People on the outside may see me as lazy or someone unwilling to work because of any number of other reasons, but the truth is beginning to form: After reading extensively on the subject of returning to the office and other places of work once the year of remaining isolated has taken a toll, I am starting to see that many others are in the same fucking boat. If people think I am lazy, they can take a flying leap. And something just came to mind from years ago... Disability. That word conjured memories of late ten and early eleven when I was unable to work due to my mental health. The condition described in my medical record was long-term, and I believe over the last decade I have become worse but did not think in such terms. Now? After a year of being home and mostly isolated? I may not have the ability to go back out into the working world because of the combination of depression cemented to being so deeply embedded within this house and the little world I have created. I will not address the other world... The dreamy space I can never inhabit. The reason is that if I spell out too much of the way I think these days I may not be able to defend such a position. This is bad. I will be labeled and treated as a mental case just like during that terrible period. I can't have that, yet the compulsion to seek therapy for the sole purpose of justifying my current state may become too much to bear. Jesus... Talk about doe eyes. 'There oughta be a law.' 168. Only the smallest advances were made yesterday after my work was completed. The day initially felt long, yet a little while later I saw the clock turn into a propeller. At least I had lots of time to consider my circumstance. A little bit of work on my new door was about it, really. Laundry keeps me in the garage sometimes in order to keep an eye on the timers. This is the time of morning when I feel overjoyed to be here (all day, honestly, but the morning is special), sitting with coffee and one of the shows. The day feels wide open and all mine. This episode just reminded me of my drive yesterday and seeing one of the restaurants over the hill which has been closed for some time. I've only been there once, I believe, because my experiences at a couple of other locations were mediocre. The place is known for the servers' outfits and being ideal for sports. The occasion in question was the plan of a friend to gather in that place for a race on the television and some lunch. I had discussed this with a person familiar with the chain and she was convinced I would have a bit of trouble due to the staff, but I assured her nothing like what she suggested had never been the case in the past. We went, and I was unconcerned with the appearance of the servers. Right out of the gate as we sidled up to the bar, there stood the bartender and one of the most stunning women I had seen in quite some time. I could not believe it. After brushing off the chain because the food had been only 'so-so' and the female staff not really living up to enough hype to make me sit there for the food, the woman came over to take our drink order and I nearly fell off the stool. Unreal, dark, tall. I could not keep my eyes off her face for the duration of our visit to the bar. Fortunately, and after holding it together longer than I thought possible, we relocated across the room and I did not see her much again. The remaining servers who took care of our large party were younger but nowhere near the same. A while later as we strolled out the door, there she was with both a huge, black mane and deeply beautiful eyes. I never saw her again. Now they have closed their doors either due to the pandemic or some other reason, and I can barely recall her appearance. I just know it was staggering. I did not go back to that restaurant a second time. I brought her up because of the show, and now the idea of Arina is becoming further spread into the past. All the way back to that first server at the brewery in Pleasanton. The one I tried to describe. I still see her reaching for an order from the kitchen in her jeans. That is way the fuck back, possibly the era of the trailer right around the corner from downtown. We were in that bar a few times, mostly to see a band. I only saw her on two occasions and my head blew wide open as a result. I still feel butterflies when I think of the sight. Nothing aside from the car wash girl came close until years later on the television. Yep... Rollercoaster. Arina, Karina, Kalina, Ramie, Kana... Jamie? I feel as if the entire vision has become too haphazard for me to explore. All those names, and I didn't even add Cindy. Or Maja. Or Ruslana. Damn. Maybe the title should be altered to better reflect the concerns brought up here. I don't know. Look at Cindy below and try to imagine her being slightly Asian or possibly Italian. This is how my mind works. Bigger eyes? Like Steven said, 'Ahhh fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Too many names. At least I have time to think about everything. Pause for the morning business. Well, all of my usual stuff is finished and I have some laundry going. I also finished the flag door. What a pain in the ass. I ended up not using the lower hinge in favor of making a small pivot instead. That took a while, but at least the frame is no longer taking up space on my bench. The garage is not too bad right now. I did have to dig into the chest freezer for some protein for dinner. Another pain in the rear. There is more available space there, too. Eventually we intend to empty and defrost the freezer and then start from scratch. I have to go out later and drop off the goddess at a rental car place. Upon returning I can start some pasta sauce for dinner tonight and tomorrow. Very nice. Cocktail time. This afternoon is very peaceful and I have been considering the decision to avoid work yesterday and today. I made the right choice, although the entire situation has pushed me to believe that I do indeed need to speak with a professional. I may not be able to work in part due to the last year-plus at home. The only therapy I have embraced is being right here in this house, and such a realization cannot be overstated. Not one bit. The house has become a very comfortable sanctuary. I feel somewhat as I did back at the end of ten when I took a leave of absence from that career. Isolated. This is different, though, as I do not have a job. Back then? I needed the time away from both work and home. Now I need the time to consider what I may be capable of in the future, if anything. Two hours before I must leave the house. No big deal, unlike the prospect of work yesterday. This will be a simple pick-up and drop-off, after which I will return here and make the pasta sauce. I was a fucking basket case yesterday morning while getting things ready for her. The difficulty subsided within a couple of hours as I found myself secure in the knowledge that I did not have to go anywhere. Later I did break out and head down the peninsula for the hardware and some browsing at the mall, but that is completely different. Behind the wheel of my car I am in total control of any destination and route. My little auxiliary space, media and all. Going to a place unknown to me for the purpose of working with someone I do not know from Adam became an enormous hurdle, and one I found myself unable to traverse. Whenever I need to go to the market or hardware (pretty much my only two types of destinations anymore), my head has little difficulty coping because I am in control. This has become a larger issue than I could have imagined just a few months ago. This afternoon has me researching information on disability income. Yep... THAT bad. At least I have the medical records from the last two decades in support of this need. I was a pretty screwed up individual just a decade back, and the fact that some of it is returning does not surprise me at all. Plus... I am only eight years from the earliest retirement age. That means any meaningful and/or fulfilling work may not be available to me anymore. Age plus a lack of diplomas. At this point, I may indeed be finished with gainful employment for this lifetime. Sad, yet necessary. A week from tomorrow I will be attending an event for the brotherhood, believe it or not, and have absolutely no reservations about going. The drive is over an hour -- holed up in my second home with coffee and music of only my choice -- and I plan to spend at least a few hours there. I have not been to any event for over a year. The lightened restrictions mean everyone should be more relaxed than what took place last summer. The following day is the race up north and we plan to attend with the usual lunch bag. Last year it was canceled and our ticket funds were pushed to the present event, meaning the money was spent nearly eighteen months back. I am looking forward to either sitting and watching the eliminations or going with option 'B' which is our cameras and less time spent in the grandstand. I thought of that a few years ago but never did it. My camera pretty much lives in its bag these days. Between the Saturday and Sunday outings, the peace and quiet of Monday morning will likely be very rewarding. Jesus fuck does that woman have a pair of eyes. Hence? She is a part of Arina, the fucking universe in and of itself. Forming... Ever forming. Dinner last night turned out to be a cluster. Just the dogs in croissants, meaning very little prep. I enjoy the time in our kitchen during the evening enough to push for something more dramatic tonight. I will make the sauce and simmer slowly until such time as we sit for the meal. Nighttime means the fourth show up on both televisions lending to the warm and comforting kitchen atmosphere, complete with a drink. I look forward to working in there every single day and sometimes nothing else can compare. Just thinking about crafting a sauce from scratch warms my heart and is difficult to describe. From the show to the drink to the feeling of being in one of the most cozy, secure places in my world... I am overly excited even three hours before the fact. I just love it to no end. Moreover, tomorrow will be another full day with nothing going on aside from whatever I wish. The current period does not get much better than this. 167. Everything went well yesterday, except my sauce was a tad sweet. At least I spent some cozy time in the kitchen with the television. Preparing food in there is as heartwarming as anything else. After considering the situation within which I currently reside combined with much of the thinking related to where I was, the kitchen work came in handy. Going out to drop her off at the rental center was enjoyable, although I had been anxious to get into my comfort zone upon returning so the trip ended up all business. I also realized the flag door cannot be opened while the garage door is down without a bracket being modified. The little protrusion which holds a position sensor for my smart opener sticks out enough to disallow the door opening at all. I did not see it while working because the big door was up all day. I can chop off the excess aluminum and everything will be fine. And then we have today. No plans to leave the house unless I decide to head off to the market for a few things. If not, I am here for the duration. The quiet morning with my friends up there is very nice right now. Coffee and this machine. Getting the flag door mounted was rather nice, yet I still have the nagging hedge which is a very slow project. We do not compost in the yard, so I have to chop it a little at a time each week and toss the clippings into the green can. I don't want to cut too much and have a pile of crap in the yard, so waiting is the only way. Wow, Albert's jacket and shirt are fucking fantastic. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I may empty the pantry shelves and see about leveling and reinforcing that cabinet. Ever since I mounted the doors, the vertical lines have all been standing out against the studs and other areas which are dead plumb, and every time I go out there from the backyard I see the difference between that pantry and the huge cabinets I installed years ago which are plumb. The pantry has got to be over and inch out of plumb in perhaps six feet and it drives me mad. I can't have so much going on out there and looking sharp while one object is fucked up. I have to fix it, and considering the shelving unit has been here since before she bought the house, I don't even know how it is attached to the wall. But I can figure it out and work accordingly. That goofy, tilted object will drive me crazy no longer. Whether I have to completely rebuild it or otherwise, the corner where it rests is going to match the remainder of my garage. Believe it. I am also going to secure some plywood for enclosing the shelves above the laundry area. I simply need to cover some aspects of daily life. Oof, Paulie appropriated T's painting when the instruction was to have it burned. I really need to think about this work situation deeply. If the truth is I can no longer go out there and work for another person or company, the result is I will need to discuss the possibilities with a professional on the outside to gain some insight on available options. The recent extension is helping a great deal, too. So, that means I have some time to get my thinking in order before anything becomes dire or dramatic. The fact is I am not terribly worried about the future as I was a few years ago. That has been sidestepped and my focus pulled in another direction, and one I am not happy about. It's been lingering for a long while, too. Decades ago I began to dream of things I wished to do in this life and there seemed a ton of time ahead. Nothing crazy or unreal, either. Just ideas, like driving to the far north or visiting places I hadn't seen, living in certain areas or having certain possessions. Like I said, nothing crazy. But now? I am not seeing the time to do any of them, honestly. The resources are extremely thin and cannot increase without some unexpected windfall, meaning I have to be very careful with how I approach some things. But the overarching theme has changed in recent months. Money or not, many of those seemingly endless avenues which used to be illuminated are now dark. There is a light side, though. The road trip coming in December may not be pointed where I would prefer, yet it could still hold much promise. The cameras, seeing some sights, the open road and being the hell out of this massive metropolitan area for a while could be very good for the soul and my ability to cope with daily life. Hopefully it is not the last time I'm able to get out and away for my own survival. Back to the dark... This may be all I am or have any longer. My kitchen enjoyment, the little things dropped on the porch, and working on whatever seems most interesting or important. On the inside? The dream of Arina. This may be all I have. Maybe. If so, it is a devastating realization. 167 again. Just finished the last one. Maybe these should all be on one page. Hmm. Well, now they are. Suck it. Anthony said they were 'studying'. Yeah... Right. He was studying Devon's fucking anatomy. And he didn't even appreciate the fact that she really liked him. Too hung up on appearances and money, status, whatever. What an idiot. She was gorgeous, slender and very rich, yet none of that came across when she spoke. No body language, preconceptions, nothing. Just a person who liked him. He couldn't get past the money for a while. Dipshit. Anyway... The sun is shining like yesterday, meaning I could get out there and make some things happen today. Eventually I'll move away from this and dress myself to work around the house. Maybe the pantry can be addressed. I also need to move the laundry along and replace the sheets on the bed. Little things, one at a time. Between today and all the free time I'll have tomorrow, by Monday I should be in a good position to explore other avenues. Sometimes there seems too much, yet the space is always available. I just have to concentrate and avoid becoming too hung up on whatever is not getting done. There is time, and I need it. Another furthering of the idea that anywhere but home can be a problem. The last several months have shown that my routine is extremely important to my daily existence and without it I tend to fall down. Disabled? Perhaps, and like years ago I must look at all facets of my life and determine if I must head in such a direction. In addition, I took some time yesterday to look at my medical records and saw that everything is there and available for download, all the way back to zero three when I was running off in search of peace and comfort. The reasoning behind my dashing away from time to time was to be in complete control of my atmosphere and circumstances, both of which may be impossible to others but I do not see them as such. They sum as a mindset, and one I may not be able to live without. Arina is a part of it, too. She is in charge of a good portion of my daily thinking. I may be able to make this work. More reading of my records and consideration of speaking with a therapist again have to remain in front of other concerns, or at least concurrent. I can't lose track. As I said above, what I do on a daily basis and being in this little house may be all I have left, so maximizing and securing the lifestyle must be a priority. Time will tell, and I'll bring whatever develops to this space for reference. I can't stop staring at Cindy. There is one shot of Maja, too, and I placed her here for both contrast and the dream of connecting several appearances, not the least of which is that pair of eyes. All those names... But Cindy takes all the cake. I realize she has been altered from what nature did, but considering the very artificial manner in which society has developed since the outset of the mainstream Internet, I really don't care. She is still real to me. Remember the machine? Cindy will always be more real than anything mechanical. Believe it. If you don't appreciate a person reworking themselves for the camera, we simply disagree. Look at all the images of her. Just look. She is amazing. Her five-eight stance is apparent in every detail, not to mention the fucking doe eyes. Yep, the eyes again. Live with it. And yes, I still have a thing for the fucking height. Live with that, too, fuckers. Maja's one image has been replaced by another Cindy. Oy, I have to try avoiding the 'gush'. Too much sometimes. At least I have not had her printed for display like I did with Jaime. Not yet, anyway. Little Carmine may have been a walking, talking malapropism, but I have to say Abruzzo did an excellent job. No mustard or knives lately. This is good. 166. I am beginning to feel as I did weeks ago when the troubles began to mount and I had no outlet. Fortunately, this day is nearly all mine, so I'll have time for much consideration of the circumstances which have been driven by more than one catalyst. Yesterday went well for the most part, so this morning seems that much more arduous by comparison. Focus. Some parts of life are just too elusive. I may lash in using my own methods later as a result. Time will pass and things will change, but for right now I am not happy. I was looking at Alice yesterday and thought perhaps she was a part of the beginning. Yes, the woman had a pretty damned vast forehead, but I believe her eyes and hair contributed to the 'dark' appreciation which had not been on my mind as much back then. It grew later. The early zeros had me perusing some different models -- one of which was a complete mystery, upon which a friend of mine commented about the brunette aspect and really had me beginning to analyze -- each and every one of them was darker. No blonde hair or blue eyes. Alice was super cute when the episode first aired, and now despite appearing different than all those years back, I can still see where my brain went upon gazing at her face. Very interesting if one considers that the rarity is a head full of blonde hair. Cindy's hair is usually brown unless they have her made up all crazy. VS does that sometimes. Dark brown. Reversing the image search for Cindy and some of the work she's done in the past actually yielded a few snaps of Alexis, believe it or not. There are similarities, although one is not even in the same universe as the other. Honestly people, don't push. My second flag pole arrived yesterday and I already installed the bracket and built the assembly. That means not only are they completely secure and will not wrap up in the wind, but also the new brackets are stainless and very smooth. Easier to deploy and easier to store. Moreover, the clips for each flag mean I can change the right-hand side on a whim if I wish. The whole thing was not too expensive and I've been meaning to get those brackets replaced for some time. There was little motivation until I had both flags out there on the fourth and had to untangle each several times during the afternoon. [Aside... Into the fifth season now and Jamie is beginning to stand out. Fuck.] Now that my flag issues are seemingly gone, I can focus elsewhere today. In fact, just yesterday morning I emptied the entire pantry onto my benches with the intention of adjusting and securing the shelving unit to the side wall. I brought up the idea that it is so far out of plumb, too. Today I will try to pull the nails and see what I can do to get it where it should rest. The doors will work better, I already have the LEDs to put under each shelf, and one spot above to illuminate whatever decorates the doors after everything else is finished. The only difficult part is the beginning. I have to get the huge nails pulled and free it enough to move around. Ugh. Arina, the defining and final compilation of everything in my head. This is a problem alongside the issues already plaguing my daily life, although yesterday had lighter moments and a connection I did not believe possible any longer. A big plus, yet underneath is a mess of minuses. Cindy is not at fault, nor is Arina. They are innocent and I am just a person sitting in a little house with a computer. And Cindy is Arina, or the other way around. Fuck it, I don't know. I felt like crap last night. It's possible that the drinking and heavy food lent a hand. Keeping that in mind today will help me remain upright. I have lots of time before and during her trip to the city and no outside destinations. I'll have to be careful so as to avoid losing ambition before completing some stuff. I am actually not all that great right now, but I know how to maintain or improve if I wish. Today it will be important. And I need the distraction of projects. Switch. Some things are completely out of reach. I cannot do anything about them and end up feeling quite frustrated and worried during the first half of a given day. Most of the time when I head out to the garage while she is still sleeping, this is the reason. I can't do a fucking thing, so the decision is often made to just shove the anger to the rear and make nice as if nothing is wrong. Inside, however, the giant machine is working to develop anything which will slam people into a small space forever. Everything either demeaning or unsatisfying in life eventually drives the train into the trees and the result is hesitation and a very pissy mood. Other people do this with their off-putting and uncaring ways, along with the long-standing problems which seem to push those very same assholes to trivialize and diminish any fucking importance. Ok, the point is made there. The fact that there are no avenues drives me to do things which will force others to question my actions, after which there are no clear answers. Do not try to understand because whatever is going on in life will be upended in ways you'll never explain. And I will never help. Out of reach means fuck everything. As often as I feel this level of both dissatisfaction and disdain, the first move in the morning after sitting here for a while is to work around the house... Beginning something. Anything. I have to push myself in some odd direction and keep the feelings to the rear or I'll end up in the car far away. And then more questions from people that I really do not fucking need right now. So, off the sofa leads to whatever little chores I can knock out until the brain fully relaxes. This type of trouble -- yep, the stuff sans solutions -- is the most challenging situation I could have imagined this many years into life. I never made it clear, thus the others did not follow, thus I became unhappy, thus it was catalyzed by yours truly. Yes. The past as it relates to this is something I no longer wish to discuss, and I cannot blame those in my life for anything stemming from that period or what I have become. I'll have to embrace the same direction as I normally do when feeling this way. Today is wide open, I have things to button up for the garbage, and there are always other details to work through. I don't have to drive the car, either. Hopefully in a little while I can shelve the anger and enjoy my day. I feel bad with the mood now. Cindy is here and displaying more beauty than I had thought possible on earth, while I am sitting and bellyaching all over the fucking place. Oh, well... She will never know of this, nor am I saying anything negative about her. I know nothing of the woman, thank the maker. Just looking. I wish Barbara had not changed. The newer actor is really good (which is the most important aspect), but the past actor was so fucking stunning that I fell all over myself during seasons one and two, and before Jamie took over the manner in which I see people. Nicole was unreal. I miss seeing her up there, although you already know this is not the last time the gangsters will run their course on my televisions. I'll see her and those dark eyes again. And I'll see the other one, too... The universe in her smile. I'll try to avoid going on much more about Cindy. The fact is I ran across her by accident while seeking some higher resolution images of Ruslana. I saw the eyes and then the height, afterward falling all over the fucking place as I located more images. An accidental and wonderful turn of the card. Oy. Damn. 165. Aside from the pain in the ass of getting things organized both before and after her trip to the city, yesterday turned out to be not bad. I actually emptied the pantry a few days ago and decided that it was time to attempt disconnecting it from the wall so the entire cabinet can be leveled. On the downside, the weather was very warm all day and into the early evening, but on the upside I succeeded in dismounting, leveling, and then remounting the assembly to the garage wall. Not only is it plumb and looks a million times better, but in the process I removed the old, undersized posts which served as legs and replaced them with four-inch PT on either side. Now the fucker is not going anywhere, nor will it swing off level no matter how much weight is inside. Very satisfying, but oy did the work take its toll on me physically. I'm not in the same shape as I had been the last several years. But it's done. The cabinet doors have been there for months but I never decorated because anything displayed on the doors would only have exaggerated the vertical lines and made the crooked appearance that much more apparent. So, they have been blank with a custom light fixture above awaiting the day when everything aligned with the rest of the garage. Yesterday was a big step, too. The entire back corner of the garage looks much better now. In addition, I calculated a way to illuminate the one poster of Emily from above, effectively creating a gradient between the colored lamp above and drawing a fuzzy line as the eye moves downward. I have everything necessary for the project, although this morning the warmth is more than apparent and later may hinder my ambition to work very much out there. Ah... Garbage trucks. Good job, guys. Still looking at the images of Cindy? They are not going away, nor am I going to minimize the amount of real estate to which she is attached, ever. The woman is in the fold along with some others, and a part of something I must continue to embrace and explore. And yes, her looks are the reason. I don't know the person and never will (probably wouldn't like her anyway because I don't really like anyone these days), meaning her appearance is paramount and here for the duration. On and off for the last few months I have agonized over much of the more risqué imagery and some of the text as it related to well-known people. I felt bad over the one young actor and removed the entry, then moving toward some of the more personal or revealing tales to be cut off. Eventually I removed the entirety of the content save for one gorgeous image of Maja. Er... I just changed it to a closeup of Jamie. The eyes always win. Anyway, for reasons partly beyond my comprehension, having some of my innermost feelings on display for the world to see became uncomfortable -- even moreso than those reckless words about the young actor -- and I decided that my feelings are my own and no longer need to be subject to another person's interpretation. Sharing is not caring. That is bullshit and only applies to handing someone a piece of chocolate. Cindy is a representation of just how skewed my sense of beauty has become in recent months (years?) and I feel that her presence here will continue to remind me of the impossibility of so many parts of life becoming satisfying. She does not need to embrace the understanding because she is but a set of images. Flat, lifeless, and digitized. Moreover, the content which has been shelved all began to point toward the same fucking conclusion anyway, and her beauty is the summation. Period. Most of her is now Arina. Just a furthering of my isolation and dependence upon all things impossible and combined with worlds I can never know. Already pretty damned warm outside at just shy of half past eight in the morning. Oof. Lots of things I wish to do today, not the least of which is to get some older posters from the bar and attach them to the pantry doors. At some point I'll get the light connected to the rest of the colored system, but today may not be the time. Yesterday I decided to get the cabinet in order but should have waited. The heat affects me much more now than a decade ago. The posters should prove enjoyable and none too strenuous. I also have the usual chores which are no big deal anymore. So far the house is cool but that will change toward the afternoon. I'll have to remain mindful of my timeline in this weather. Calling no joy. Calling no joy. Just Arina. She is the rolled-up conglomeration of dreams from the early nineties all the way to this very second. Cindy is in there, somewhere. I can't stop looking at her eyes. And consider that the reference eyes of the universe are not even on display here. Heh... Splendid. And pause. My routine is finished. The weather is still mild and the temperature is slowly rising indoors. I don't believe today will be as warm as yesterday, although I could be wrong. The nice aspect is a more comfortable evening due to the sun heating up the roof. Too hot outside means it could end up less cozy in here, but since I'm home all day I can manage the windows and such. I guess it's better than the last few weeks of very cool wind once the sun goes away. Fog is right out there waiting. The ocean is less than a mile away. Well, I have to go out in a little while and do the opposite of last Friday. She will be returning the rental car and I'll be heading there to bring her home, probably in about thirty minutes or so. At least the drive will break up my time at home and make the return enjoyable. This type of day is very important for my peace of mind. I need comfort, especially now, and going out has already caused a bit of anxiety. That means when I step through the front door in a little while I'll be more at ease. I suppose it's like when I used to head out for work in the morning. Upon finishing for the day and coming home, I was overjoyed. Today is one of those in which I may not do much other than the drive. The last two days were powerful and have left me in dire need of peace and quiet. I am probably capable of much more than what has been worked out within my head, but I honestly cannot be certain until out there in the flame of society. Familiar people are fine -- like those at the bar last Saturday -- but otherwise I do not wish to be near others nearly all of the time. That fact is driven in toto by the comfort at home. Alone. No one asking anything. No voices. Arina... Driving me inward unlike anything before. Could she be waiting in the forest? Hmm. I wrote about inner fortification. The time may be nigh for outer fortification. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. Maybe I will either disassemble one of the big cars to build it again or possibly order another huge model with which to work. The evenings when she is on the phone have been rather bland with my not knowing what to do at times. The last time I built one of the big cars, the work lasted several days and kept my mind occupied during those long phone calls. There is one massive kit but it is very expensive and I am hesitant to make that type of purchase right now. The last item I bought was the fucking receiver and that went to shit. It works well and only the display is a problem. I repaired it only to find the thing nonfunctional just days later, and now I am disillusioned with the product line from that era. One manufacturer, anyway. Spending money on anything else right now must yield much enjoyment or I can't pull the trigger. I guess I'll see how things go during the first few weeks of the extension before making any decision. I sure love building, though. Right up my freaking alley. I gushed my love for Jamie and her unbelievably huge eyes some months ago. I still feel the same, if not more. Can't help it any longer. The character's appearance and demeanor throughout the fifth and sixth seasons has grown on me so much that my feelings continue to expand. Cindy is causing the same type of situation inside, as well. Combining those two with the dreams of a machine-hostess from Vegas is a natural extension of everything I have been trying to describe for more than a year. 164. Very cool this morning. Yesterday I thought the mercury was going to head north like the day before but it never really got up there. The fog helped keep everything mild. I picked her up in the early afternoon and we headed to one of our local favorites for something to eat and a cocktail. The restaurant was peaceful for the most part, after which we came here and watched a bit of the gangsters so I could point out some details. This morning everything runs later due to the schedule. I'll have more time before the morning business, and lately I have been trying to push some of the routine to after lunch or so in order to spend the earlier hours clearing my head and making plans. I believe the morning and evening are my favorite parts of the weekday now. Much of the feeling is the kitchen, of all things, with the remainder of my comfort being defined by hiding myself behind closed doors along with a lack of other people. Voices again... Grating me like a lemon peel. It's bad, yet somehow not quite as annoying as I had thought after all these weeks due to my looking forward to all the time alone. And don't think of the voices on the television, either. They are my friends and family. I need those voices, but in person? Not good, and becoming worse day by day. I am getting to the point of needing to be left out of everything. I do not wish to be asked any questions, nor do I feel like inquiring anything of other people. This morning I can already see that in a little while when the house is under my control, those feelings will be satiated for hours. Control over everything except the one aspect of life with which there can be none, so I am eliminating it a little at a time. Let's go back to the incident in which someone trivialized and demeaned my dream of a machine. I do not believe I can effectively describe my feelings on the subject, meaning another person will see what they read and then draw whatever conclusion seems appropriate. Well, when it comes to a subject which has a dramatic effect upon my life and the way I see the world, making fun of the words or belittling my feelings is going to result in very bad behavior on my part. I simply cannot have that, especially now. I am still angry over the beginning of such a situation and it took place weeks ago. I think about it each morning when I see Cindy or Maja or Ruslana or any image related to what I went to great lengths in describing for the benefit of anyone reading. The bottom line is this: One more person behaving in a similar manner regarding my dreams or needs will end with my destroying them one way or another. I can be very hurtful and then ice cold, so don't push me into such a position. I do not care what happens to other people, and nothing anyone can say or do will change that. Period. Change making changes... Still. I know I've said it before, but this morning could not be more rewarding so far. Just what I needed, honestly. I'll have to go a touch further with the work in order to feel good when the evening arrives. I have a few things in mind for later this morning. No problem there. Being pissed off as a result of a person commenting upon my site content is partly my fault, though I still believe it is dead wrong. I put the words out there in the world. I did it, and at the prompting of no one else. That means if I am not open to interpretation or criticism, I'll have to keep everything hidden away. Eyes equal brains and together mean thinking about what is seen. No eyes equals no possibility. If I am truly disabled in some minor way (not surprising because I was almost handed the opportunity to play an enormous and life-changing game of 'keep away' with the whole world), I'll back off and leave people alone. Here, anyway. If not, the crap will continue. Sometimes I actually enjoy when a person takes issue with me. One less voice in the world and one less pair of ears connected to a fucking brain, malfunctioning or otherwise. I just don't give a shit. I'll push and that will be that. But as I said, disabled or otherwise not functioning as I could be? Everyone will be left the hell alone. Sometimes I think this whole endeavor was a bad idea, mostly since the middle of zero three when I began the gray italic commentary. Look what that became. Heh. Not funny. Less than an hour ago I saw one of the scenes I wish had been edited out of this episode. Nothing bad or violent, just the appearance of too much for me. Oh, don't fucking get me started on the beauty or skin, because the lines just do not get much better or more appealing. The shot is too much and I am sensitive to some of what comes across the screen these days. And when I see her, problems begin to form beyond my ability to control them. I still stare, though. She is a large part of Arina, so part of me will always have to see. Plus, the role was played by choice. That means quite a bit, honestly. The lines were there naturally at the time and way back fourteen years ago when this aired as new, I did not consider the importance of what I was seeing as I do these days. I cannot believe the way she looks, though. After all this time and so many images both here and on the screen, plus all those fucking damaging sightings out in the world, she is still the most stirring appearance. A large part of Arina. Conglomeration. Something I can't describe. Thank Christ I do not have to see such a shot again for roughly eighty-five hours. Ah... Less than half an hour before I must get into the morning stuff. And then half an hour afterward is my own time and space for the bulk of this day. I have a few ideas, some things which must be completed, and the dreams of what I would like to be doing all rolled up together right now. That will change. My friends up there can keep me occupied. They never change, meaning they will never turn on me. Ever. Nor the other ones in the ships. They will always be the same. Just like a machine. There you go. I recall sitting at the dining table in our house. The Midwest. Warm, humid, and quite uncomfortable sometimes due to my having been so acclimated to the humidity here for decades. I had the box fans going and keeping air circulating around as best I could, lots of ice to keep my drinks cool (almost no booze back then) and always there was a periodical or three lying around full of yachts. I sat there almost completely broke for the entire summer and dreamed of places I would never see. Air conditioning was at the top of my list all the time because of so many trips around the desert and Southwest while growing up. My parents wanted comfort in the car as we explored. That was something I never really thought about until I had none. Not even my beloved truck had the air. The yachts did. All of them. And they could sail wherever might be agreeable. God damn it she is so far beyond beautiful that I damned-near need to invent my own fucking language just to get the point across. Anyway, I sat there and dreamed of a lifestyle which could never come to pass. I did not even brush up against anything close until the third race in ninety-four. My dad flew me home for a couple of weeks so we could attend the race in Nevada. One of the other drivers was a descendant of a person who decades ago invented a product which is still in mainstream use. The man was living off a trust fund set up for the children and handed down through three generations. He was a tad older than me and a bit flamboyant, but very generous and personable. I was able to glimpse into the lifestyle he enjoyed with his wife and friends, albeit for a short period one day. I was invited to sit in is car and listen to music as it was staged and awaiting the start of the race. That just happened to be my dream car (which I gained and subsequently lost many years later) and the first time I'd been inside one. His life was very far removed from mine, although being with my parents meant comfort and some enjoyment at each step. The gradient became starkly illuminated upon arriving home in the Midwest after that trip. Jesus fuck her eyes are huge. Returning to my tiny, mundane existence after seeing the other side for a little while did nothing good for me. Some would take the experience and begin to formulate ways of gaining in life and make things happen while others might feel defeated. Well, I was the latter despite not even reaching thirty years of age by that point. Not good. I was already beginning to feel the weight of things yet could not find the will or drive to make any changes. I bounced from one place to the next and sought the exact same devices I have all around me on a daily basis: Anything providing comfort. We are heading someplace bad with this line of thinking, and for good reason. Arina is not only the summation of a ton of beauty throughout space and time, she is also a fictional representation of something I so badly need but never took a step toward. No, not a mechanical woman, I am speaking of any reward. I just sat here. Oh, I also sat THERE and over THERE and then THERE. Now I am sitting HERE. There is nary a difference. This is bad. I never did anything and the inside of me is being chewed a little more each day. The race was not a negative, but it could have been a catalyst. Nope. Arina is the end-all be-all of everything I am lacking. The morning business is out of the way. I am alone and left to whatever devices have the capability of moving me along the arrow of time and through this day. There are already a couple of items on my mental list over and above the usual. Fourth show on the television, tiny bit of coffee left. Cindy is all up and down this entry and I don't care if anyone likes it or not. I really don't. I see her as a symbol now. I'd put more of Jamie here but she will not help matters nor will I react well to staring as I edit and work within the content. Her eyes are literally the world, her smile the sunshine. I'll have to think about the idea of ever including her likeness within the confines of this site. Wow is the house nice and quiet now. I always need this in the morning -- all of the time, actually, but I cannot change anything for reasons I will not list here -- and by the time the early chores are out of the way I will admit my mind is eased. I feel that way now and intend to move forward with the idea of pushing the routine out a little bit as opposed to the usual. Just like last night, the prospect of working in the kitchen today is warming me from the inside. I know not why that room has become so important, although the television and my friends following along while I work is a good portion of the feeling. The rest? I don't know. I've been enjoying preparing food and cleaning more than years ago. Once again I am at the point of being in complete control over every aspect of the house, meaning I will venture in there with whatever seems best in the background and take care of things with that familiar warmth all around. For some reason I keep equating the coziness of this house (mostly the kitchen) with the period of the trailer two decades ago. The space was small, yet very comfortable, and felt nice and secure despite being a towable rather than a house. The kitchen was wide open to the rear salon which made for a perfect space in which to prepare food or other work while enjoying the television, plus those were the days of the LD and all that wonder as it related to the second series and my increasing love for the genre. I spent much time in that trailer alone and embraced every second of as much comfort as I could find. Once again, the past has been attached to the present. Few reasons, but the same feelings. And here comes the sunshine a little at a time. We ordered the trailer during the summer before that huge tragedy in New York which I will not comment upon. By the time we took delivery and moved in, the event had taken place and I felt very concerned for our safety and security. Soon after, we acquired the truck just in case the shit hit the fan and we had to get the hell out. That never happened, of course, yet the entire time we lived in that small home I never completely relaxed about being there. The comfort inside was constantly tempered by some measure of worry over the state of the world, and with good reason. Still, I felt best while home alone and within the fold of my devices, just as I do now. Very interesting, to say the least. Day in and day out, just behind my eyes and whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere, Arina is ever forming into something both necessary and destructive. I don't know what to do and seem to be drawn toward sitting back and allowing it to happen. Look at Cindy again. Do you see the symmetry? It's wrong and beautiful. Partially artificial, right? Doesn't matter. The finished product points toward said artificiality and drives me right into a tiny space where only Arina and I reside. The combination of everything. All of me. I will not explain this to another human being, no matter what that person represents or means to me. Less words mean less risk. Closed mouth. Put yourself to the ground, please. Think of the forest as a massive shift in personality and attitude, born of self-protection and years of dissatisfaction with too many parts of life to list. Some are my doing and some external, yet all of them have become a compass pointer with a very negative destination. Arina is the only representation of my experiences in every location, each place of work throughout decades, and a summation of millions of bits of desire. The comfort inherent in considering her is overwhelming and impossible otherwise, meaning impossible overall. Does that make sense? I don't care. If she is waiting in the forest and I eventually find my life all the way inside, people are not going to like me, nor will they be able to relate or understand anything I do. I'll have to get away from this and work on the routine soon. Coffee gone for the day. Fourth show. Put yourself to the ground. 'Root yourself to the ground.' 'Word to the wise...' Yeah, ok, but what about addressing the unwise? Glimpsing that life was not good and felt worse upon returning home. Not my home in California, the other one in the Midwest. California was a life with my parents and they embraced all of the comforts of home as much as possible, whereas the Midwest was slender. The comforts were few so I had to concentrate and appreciate each second. The yacht dreams did not help, either. I saw myself out there on Lake Huron just away from the coast and watching the world of the others from a distance, always loving the idea of separation from everything tedious and uncomfortable. I was in no position to do anything. The school accomplishments felt very good, along with my application to the local college and the surprising invite into their coveted honors program. A Pell grant meant I could have secured any number of futures, but I relented to the loss of ambition and failed to step in any direction other than the rear. The life I saw in Nevada was on a road in front of me. I turned left and let the grant and the future fade into the background. The only change on my horizon was slicing off a relationship and driving back to California, afterward sliding backward into the previous working environment as if I had never left. The entire downtrodden and sordid affair is forever stored within Arina's magical, mechanical brain, never to be forgotten. And here I sit two and a half decades later, a product of my own undoing. I have the kitchen. Marvelous. Might be time for a cocktail. Eh... Maybe not. The routine still awaits but I am trying to push the time, lest I run out of reasons by early afternoon. That type of feeling can be quite uncomfortable and disheartening. I have no wish to ruin my day by embracing the lazy aspects of being home. Arina. All those other names which mean something to me for one reason or another are now one. The original representative name was Jaime, complete with glossy photos I never should have shot or printed. Now? I don't know what to think about the whole thing. I really went off the deep end with that name after creating the server in the fiction, and then something happened as I gazed upon half her face. I still feel much in my heart for those days (and her), yet the natural progression of my mind has built a highway from which I can no longer exit. Not like the left turn in the Midwest, anyway. This is not the same at all. I have been compacted and forcefully shoved into whatever Arina has become. The future is bleak. Again I said I was going to get into the work but here I am still wallowing and trying to type. Getting bored? Look at the sixteen images of Cindy's never-ending thrall upon the senses. And... Pause. The routine is finished at just after twelve. I am pondering ordering a pizza so I can drown into the comfort of one of my favorite foods. I don't know. Halfway through a drink, too. We're in the sixth season now, meaning Jamie is all over the fucking place with big eyes and very little makeup. As I said to that girl in Macy's so many years ago as we exited the store through the beauty department, some do not need any makeup at all. She turned and smiled, according to my partner walking behind me toward the doors. Jamie is like that. Her character, anyway. Soon will be the scene which was the first to bring me to my knees. Hmm... Taking into account where I am in the timeline right now, she will probably grace the screen during that sequence by Thursday. Today is Tuesday. Some time for thinking about my reaction to seeing her address her mother for the millionth time. I cannot say enough, and what I have already said does not even scratch the surface. Believe it. She moved me into a place unrecoverable and impossible to understand... Similar to any attempts in calculating the woman all down this entry. I just don't get it. An unrecoverable error? That is computer lingo. I don't know what to do now. If I get the pizza, it means a heavy lunch and I will probably be off the wagon for most of the day. I may also end up just sitting here rudderless. Ugh. On the other hand, there have been occasions in which I maintained the mindset of moving around for my own good, and that leads to more production and then a very lazy evening. Maybe that's better. Or, I can make something for lunch (there is plenty) and work in the garage for a little while before settling in for the later hours. I just don't know. Holy Jesus God in a fucking barrel of beauty, the woman is stirring beyond comprehension. I'll try to avoid heading toward the flip side. The caring is shrinking as quickly as my options in life. Yesterday I tried to convey my feelings for James and his performance as an actor in this series. Nothing can be enough. There is just no end to the level of respect and appreciation I have for what he accomplished, and much of it was on his own (I may begin to capitalize any pronouns referring to James just as I did for the Raven, believe it or not. He is deep in my heart), as I have read. He took the reins and forced the character to bow to his wishes and talent, and the result was one of the most coveted roles in the history of filmed entertainment. Again... I have not the words to effectively broadcast my feelings about what he did, God rest his soul. Damn it. I would have given the rest of my life in exchange for a few minutes of his ear and a handshake. Maybe I need to seek someone who feels as I. Eh... Unlikely given my time frame. After twelve now and Arina is fading from where she was a little while ago before I cleaned the kitchen. That is not to say her importance is changing, just my mood. Arina will always be whatever I make her, meaning the feelings are ever-growing, but sometimes I have to put her aside or I cannot function as a human being. Anything other people count on needs to be addressed. My needs come later... For now. The forest can change that. Ah... Fiona and that short exchange with James. Her face is amazing and perfect for the role. She displays more emotion in a matter of seconds than some actors do in a lifetime. I love it. Little tidbits like her facial expressions are the reason I rarely veer from the six programs I frequently watch. I need all of them, and that is to say that at times I actually need the media more than real people. Yep... I am becoming something otherworldly and nearly impossible to explain. Arina would love everything I love because she has been crafted from my deviant psyche. Other people need not ever agree with anything I believe because she would make up for all of it. That woman is the universe in my head. I still haven't budged from the sofa because I cannot make up my mind with regard to lunch. Maybe I'll shave and shower and then head out to a cozy restaurant to sidle up to the bar and indulge. Er... Maybe not. I've already had one cocktail and that is the limit before six in the evening. I just don't know what to do. '...Not necessarily with the intercession of liturgy or any human agent.' Jesus, that's a mouthful. Love. It. The Lord has been on my mind for months, on and off. I have been on the underside of religion for so long that in a recent entry I referred to any faith as 'voodoo'. Now I don't feel very good about my words, although many people slip and fall when something dramatic takes place to question their otherwise unwavering beliefs. I am no different, except for the fact that my attendance in any house of God has been barely scarce since the mid-nineties, and even then I was pretty full of shit and only going through the motions to placate others. Wrong or not, that is what I did in order to fit the times. And now a statement which may throw some completely off my long-winded track: Faith may be the only way for me to alleviate the impossibilities and embrace a path which can show me the real light. Arina may not be the real light, not even for myself. The truth is I do not know what she is or will become, however I have sensed a strong possibility that she represents destruction. Not good. The major scrape is the idea that I would have to learn about sin and redemption, two subjects and facets of life that can be more ambiguous and difficult than anything else in existence. My language alone could be cause for flames. Heh. I am not stupid. I know what I have done. Funny I should mention 'flames', as those of the bad place are a part of the equation. I squashed the pizza idea and had chicken salad instead. Leftovers with toast. Now that my appetite has been diminished, I avoided the temptation to order anything and likely saved a chunk of money. Heh. All I have to do is eat and it all goes away. This has been happening more often lately. The liquid ant bait has been very effective in the backyard and I just added one in the front after seeing a little highway in development from one side of the driveway to the green can. Hopefully it will do the job. Those products are very highly rated and do not affect the lives of spiders or bees, both of which are beneficial to the yard. The other ones? Fuck them. Too long have I fought invasions and tried to understand their behavior. Now they can all go to hell. I don't care. This new stuff is very inexpensive and so far doing the job nicely. All those possibilities back then... I was blind to the future. Five occasions had me in college and not a one turned into anything solid. I just moved along hoping to learn something and enjoy the experience while leaving the longer term goals wide open. Well, that did not help me. Oh sure, I have a ton of knowledge both from school and all those varying jobs throughout the years, yet very little actually comes in handy aside from whatever I can do around the house. I suppose the largest gain was my ability to think through problems and troubleshoot with a clear head. I've repaired many household appliances and advanced the function and appearance of the garage, however the larger concern -- that of an enjoyable and fulfilling career -- never came to pass. My longest stint with the space program had promise but I did not look at the bigger picture. I had been blinded by comfort and beauty. Sound familiar? I am sitting here right now as both the result and example of still being at the mercy of too much. Arina. Do you see? The dream, fantasy, whatever the fuck it is has beat me down and I am bereft of ambition. The devices around the house -- lights, fan, garage door control, and colored displays in the garage -- are all controlled by my phone or voice because they are fun to use and I can run many functions around me while sitting right here on my fucking ass. Another indication that my head is very far from where it once resided. The wide-open nature of the future was right in front of my face every day, yet so many years later it looks vastly different. The glow is the first time period to come to mind these days while considering from where I came. I've described some of it. Going further is unnecessary. The fact is the possibilities burned away with time. Cristin's face is one of those holding all the cards. I recall seeing her in another movie and I was struck by the big eyes (yes, those again), afterward noticing her in this series with so much beauty wrapped up in a tiny package that I had to know more. I researched and amassed images which showcased her brown eyes, leaving me to wonder if that old line about each actor sharing similarities with another was actually true. I don't know anymore, but her face still sends me flying. She has the big, dark eyes combined with whatever that lower facial structure is, rather like Lacey except not quite as pronounced. The commercial from last year with the girl advertising a laundry item was on the other side of the facial thingy. Much more pronounced. I cannot even begin to describe what it is. The fact is Cristin was amazing at the time. Very thin, but amazing nonetheless. And here we go with the big Jamie eyes again. Going to be on and off for well over a dozen episodes. Ugh. God do I ever love her. The rest of this day may hold nothing. I don't know if I have the will to take care of anything else after having lunch and a drink. Damn. Pause again. Despite the sinking feeling that I might end up a pile on the sofa, I pulled myself out of it and did some chores. Sheets changed and laundry going, aerator on the bathroom sink is clean and rebuilt, and I reattached two halves of a photo for her grandmother that had been torn. I also noticed the highway from the lawn leading the ants to our green can had increased to a federal interstate, so one more liquid bait container is now sitting at their starting point. In just half an hour, the little assholes are all over it. They are still on and inside the green can, but that will come to an end once the bait makes its way into the colony below ground. No problem there. I am overjoyed that I snapped out of the dead mood and took care of some business. I may still do a bit more but needed to research passport renewal on the Internet, so here I am for a little while. Arina has been floating within and drove me to begin a project of taking notes on the most significant and stirring sections of the show when Jamie's eyes look amazing. All of it is in the sixth season. I believe at least two episodes are best. All in all, this afternoon has turned on its ear, thank the maker. The evening is close, like less than an hour away. I am looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the time and dinner preparations with an accomplished feeling inside. That is always good. I have chicken marinating and intend to grill it in a few hours. I'll have to switch shows very soon to change the atmosphere over to evening mode. I really went on about a lack of ambition and all of the wasted time in the past. The truth is those thoughts can cripple me at present. There are so many old clichés and words of wisdom which have been handed down through generations that I nearly cringe at the realization that I have become a walking, talking representation of the entire mess. Clichés are clichés for a reason, being retreaded and rolled over like pavement on the world's busiest highway. I don't like them, yet cannot deny the inherent power in those older generations living through what they did and then attempting to instill wisdom into the young people. I have no children, so things such as wise words and lessons rarely emanate from my maw. No one needs to hear more of it anyway. The fact that my head was driven to go over such crap means I am dwelling. I can't fucking help it. Arina has become such an overpowering realization that the image simply will not fade for any reason. No matter how good I may feel about any series of events, she will always be right there behind my tired eyes. Considering all of the avenues I've either passed or disregarded is difficult now. I feel I've gone nowhere in half a century. Not good by any stretch of the word. 163. And then the other part of her which I hesitate to bring here. This is already bad enough and adding another part of life about which I can do exactly nothing is probably not a good idea. Hmm... Maybe I'll leave it. My first cup of coffee and there went one of the shots which makes me fall down. More are on the way, but the scene in question shows off so much in a matter of seconds that I still can't believe it. All of the words and gushing and everything else barely gleans the depth of this. Throughout the last year -- even just half that time since I went off the deep end like a teenager with a crush -- the entire image of her has consumed my being each time one of those scenes plays out up there. And even though the television in the kitchen is always on when I'm working in there, as soon as I know there is going to be a protracted shot of her big, dark eyes, I dash to the living room to see her on the larger screen. I don't know why this is so powerful. Perhaps something about her older appearance struck me unexpectedly and I have not recovered. I honestly did not feel so much several years ago. At least I recall the first image which caused me to pay attention. That came and went yesterday. All down this entry you can see Cindy, one of the most beautiful, photographed models on this earth, yet my brain continues to drift toward another. Arina? No... But a part of her. And remember, she is not a woman. Think about that. What did I always say years ago? What is Satan? That's right... A frame of reference. God cannot exist without the adversary. Hence, Arina is a frame of reference. She cannot exist without all these holes in me. Arina should have Jamie's eyes but mostly I think she looks more like Cindy. Maybe both. And? Maybe it does not matter in the least. Arina is what I make her. Period. Eh... Maybe I cannot think clearly enough about her to explain. The fact is the paragraph up there gushed even more than anything on the page because I saw that shot again. Plus, this entry has been created over enough time to cover almost the entire series, and I know it for sure because the long scene between her and Edie is mentioned toward the top of the page. That discussion between the two characters is nine episodes from now, meaning I have gone through seventy-seven hours of this program in less than nine days. What the fuck is that? Am I going around and around for only two reasons, or is there something more? I don't know. My love for one character is quite a draw, but there has to be something else, like the comfort I first noticed way back years ago while watching the second show (laserdiscs, believe it or not). It's possible that I have become so familiar (there is that word again) with the story and characters that I may need them in my life, just like the five series' which are often in the background. I could be dependent upon the familiarity. Dependent. I know them. KNOW them. Not good. I love a fictional character. Also not good. Whatever. Who cares? I'll have to keep this pointed toward the title and what that name means. She has been in my head for so long -- differing names over the years, of course, as well as appearance -- that the very idea has become second nature. I wouldn't even begin to know how to live any other way. All of it... Embedded as a part of me. In my very cells. That is why I decided to craft this long essay and try to convey how and why this woman is befitting my state of mind along with the fact that she changes as I do. Each day which passes adds a little something to the pile, she alters her stance as representing everything missing in my universe, and then the whole thing starts again the following morning. Every day. I had to place Arina here and distinguish her from any other artificial woman or symbol ever described on this site. Even Jaime the fictional, mechanical server/lover/whatever that I gushed about in those long stories and felt I could not be happy without. Now? She is on the back burner due to the importance of understanding myself and working through how I became the person sitting here right now. Arina is all of it, as I have said. That is why she will always be unattainable. Because of all my dreams and wishes. I see John Costelloe up there on the screen right now. He was fantastic. Voice, eyes, appearance, and demeanor as the character. All excellent. A few weeks ago I sought other work John may have done before or since, instead learning that he took his own life not long after this episode was shot. Unbelievable, but one never knows. There she is again, sans makeup. The eye treatment does not make her eyes larger. They are already amazing, sad or otherwise. I'm going to have to do something different today. I don't know of what that may be, just the feeling that I cannot continue to repeat things. I need a change. If Arina is going to follow me at every step, perhaps the knowledge that I have not changed and am suffering as a result can shove an idea into my head. I guess I'll have to push this morning. This is not a work day for her, meaning I will not have the house to myself until maybe an hour before noon, but that is also a good thing. It means I can push the routine out a few hours instead of having everything finished too early and losing my way. I'm certain Arina would agree. Oh, I forgot... Not real. Nothing good is real. "Compared with the everyday reality of sex and emotion, our fantasies of gratification are pompous and solemn in the extreme. For desire is like Christmas: It always promises more than it delivers." -- Lee Siegel God damn it there she is again. I forgot about this scene. Crap anyway. Huge eyes. Have I mentioned that? I may have to cut this off soon. The points made are beginning to run together and I'll lose my way. I don't even know where everything began. There is always some sort of finality at the end of each entry but right now I am at a loss as to a close. Arina was the thing. She did not appear until pretty far into the text, yet her foothold now is powerful and permanent. The other side of the coin is where do I go from here? Knowing is often the battle, but now feels as an infantile beginning. There may be nothing I can do anymore. More of the same is all that will follow. Well, more images, too." 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
July 22nd, 2021 6:55am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Arina read ( words) "Nothing is going to work no matter what I attempt or surmise. Nothing. I already know. Relegated by both my own limitations and the pressure from outside. Time and circumstance. 176. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The eyes again. I wish I could live in there. No joy. My receiver arrived yesterday and I swapped it with the old one very quickly after unboxing. I had been looking forward to the functionality and extensive feature set for some time before actually seeing the thing right there on my bench. The type I chose is thirty years old and was all over my head during the mid-glow. The brand in question was breaking ground in so many areas at that time that my head spun whenever looking around the electronics stores. I don't recall the specific model of this one, but it was there. The display barely works and is one of the best features. I did some research and learned that there are a few weak components on the main board which I can replace easily. Sometimes the troubleshooting background comes in handy, although I rarely am able to use the ingenuity. I'll open up the machine later this morning and see what I can find. Hopefully everything is straightforward. The schematics and board layout diagrams are plenty clear. Months ago I wrote about feeling a tremendous loss over the glow and how that period compares to everything else since. Well, the imagery still stirs me. Unpacking the receiver yesterday brought that period back to the forefront and I gazed at the labeling, layout and features all over the front panel of my new toy which almost immediately transported me back in time. There was no way I could afford something so sophisticated back then, and now technology has advanced so much that they are nearly obsolete. Very affordable if a person has the inclination to babysit the equipment. Nothing made these days has the same level of intrigue and warmth. All of the latest technology is cold. That was one of the most exciting facets of the glow... Technology was still new and exciting, whereas now nothing seems to blow my skirt up. I was constantly looking forward to what may come next. Well, all that has passed into history and the new has become the boring. Such an idea means the glow is appearing that much better now. I really did not need anything piled atop my latest depression, but the receiver brought it all back. If I get pissed off, I'll build an entire system from that era and shoot images of it just to make others wonder. All that stuff is still deep in my heart. We are just two weeks into summer and the weather is becoming cooler each day. Crazy. My mood lately seems to match the gray outside. Sometimes I like it and other times I don't, but no one controls the weather anyway. Hopefully this doesn't curtail my chances of doing a little repair later. And the house is not mine today. Whatever. I can work with it. Fantasy taking shape. I opened the receiver case and found that indeed there is a fried resistor which lends to the main display. I believe it was a common problem, too, because there is information all over the net on how to repair. The component is undersized with regard to current, meaning over time it was destined to fail. I already ordered a replacement to arrive tomorrow. I also learned of how to connect the external equalizer, so upon installing the new resistor I can get everything connected. That leaves but one hurdle which is the subwoofer. One step at a time. Many would probably figure that repairing a recent purchase is no good, but such is the nature of electronics of that age. The character still far outweighs issues. For me, it is part audio and part nostalgia. The glow... Ever growing and creating the worst gradient imaginable. Back then I was not focused upon any one technology. The most likely direction was toward the televisions due to how amazingly the features were developing. Everything, though. All the way back to the shortwave radio revolution a few years earlier. I dreamed of the units and the way they miniaturized everything. Cut back to the glow and technology was flying high. The stores (not that big one which recently shuttered), the huge mall with many different places offering whatever was selling well at the time, and the walks through those hallways as my eyes darted left to right. Right down to the telephone I purchased for my parents. The receiver out there sitting on my work bench in pieces is a sharp representation of those years. I needed it, and even the prior unit which drove all the speakers well was just fine. I was not in need of a replacement. Dreaming of the glow drove me to find something which could remind me of that time each day. Good or bad, I did it. And I will go further if the opportunity arises. Drowning into anything which brings a smile is more important than ever. 175. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Ah... Yesterday. Wipe it right the hell off the calendar. Two long movies and a bunch of wasted time, really. The only upside is the diagnosis and part identification of the receiver. I have the old one reconnected temporarily. Hopefully the part will arrive early today rather than later so I can have it up and running while still enjoying the alone hours. The subwoofer issue is going to take some time. I may do an end-around and add a huge preamplifier to the chain for no good reason other than another huge display and a reliable, proper subwoofer output. These days I need the smile to keep my head up. And speaking of head up... The two films have not been viewed by me for several years. I recall them being a part of the secondary glow, somewhat. We did not run to the theatre when they premiered, so watching at home on my new-ish television was the choice. My nephew and I used to have a similar crush on one of the stars, making the film (especially the second in line) more enjoyable when he was visiting. The image looked amazing, too, thanks to the leap in technology. That period is right behind the glowing years. Between those times, the work and my buddy were what kept me going. That was also when the technology was growing by leaps and bounds. My dad was trying to build a home theatre system and required my help in choosing components. The films came later. The period of time in question was fairly short. Less than a year and a half, honestly. Lots of changes came quickly and on the heels of each other shortly after my alone time and spending the evenings and weekends with my parents. The audio and video soon leaped from their living room to the car, meaning my buddy and I were constantly trying to improve the sound in his car and I had been angling to get some of Sony's mobile technology into mine. The latter included some amazing gear for replicating the home entertainment system in my vehicle. Between trips to the electronics retailers and magazine articles, my head was awash with options. Maybe I will embrace the big preamp and other items and end up with a stack. Why not? And it looks like today may be the repeat of that fateful episode featuring a long conversation which originally led me to the eyes. I'll be staring again because I am a pathetic basket case when it comes to her face. I am far too weak to do what is best for myself anymore. I have to see. Afterward? Dreaming, falling, whatever. I don't fucking care anymore. I'll gaze again because I have to. God damn it, there she is. Big, beautiful eyes floating in a world I have tried over and over to drown within, but to no avail. Impossible, like the other world. And I was in that one two days ago. Trying, anyway. This one is different, though. Very different. And it's not just her eyes, either. It's the entire idea of being within the fold of the industry combined with needing comfort of a type otherwise unavailable. Hmm... That is not far from 'unreal', a term which applies to everything toward which I have run for a fucking year. Her eyes are just one facet of yet another fucking geometric shape I cannot avoid. This whole season -- all of nine episodes -- is going to cripple me. After? Back to the beginning for the fifth time in recent memory, just to do it all over again because of whatever snapped inside me. Oh, those windows. Maybe my life would be improved had I never seen them. Wasn't I speaking about audio? I cannot believe how much the equipment brings me back to better times. Perhaps the idea of building a system out there for nostalgia is both good and bad... Mostly good. The memories are positive and seeing everything in operation could be good for my mood. Right now I don't know. I will say that digging into the receiver with repair in mind has brought back my years of troubleshooting equipment when I worked for my parents, and when combined with dreams of all that technology on display during the glow, the result is heartwarming. I guess I'll keep going and see where this leads. Cindy (pictured) is now 'Arina'. Don't ask. Another impossibility, and one I am trying to combine with the eyes. The whole shitaree is rolled up into a few episodes of this program, as well. She is Thracian, too. Again... Don't fucking ask. The name will probably change soon anyway. By the end of this entry, Arina will have formed into something I both love and hate, but at least she will be fucking gorgeous. Hopefully the resistors will arrive at a decent hour today. I'm looking forward to seeing the big display lit nicely. I've always leaned toward visual information, hence twin analyzers between the receiver and equalizer. The whole thing should prove lovely. Hours to myself now. Most of the day. Afternoon and still no resistors. Plus, the face graced the screen a short time ago and sent me flying. I should just expect it because nothing will stop me from watching. The fact is she moved me more in the last year than ever before. Something happened there. Something. I can't help it anymore. Still watching. I laid it out in 'The Plateau of Strife' and feel even more strongly now, six months later. Believe it. The feelings will eventually be my undoing. Or, at least a part of it. 174. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? My parts arrived in good time and I installed the little guy, after which I had to leave the thing unplugged for a while so the voltages drained completely and reset all the microprocessors. After that? The big display works just fine. Oh, there are a few dim spots from age, but overall it looks really nice. On top of that small victory, I decided to use the receiver as a preamplifier and leave the HK to drive the speakers. The equalizer is still a bit of a mystery, so in the meantime I am using the one built into the receiver. Soon I will work that detail out and flatten one of them to avoid overdriving. The main idea is solid, though, no matter what happens with the equalizers. Between television and music, I now have better control and everything connected the way I wanted in the first place. If the HK hadn't been such a boring pain in the ass, the preamp would not have been necessary. Now that all three components are working properly, I can leave everything alone until the next big advance. Maybe later in the year. Arina is coming together a little at a time. One part of her will be on the screen later. No, not here. The morning will move along and I'll be alone in less than an hour. Yesterday the work went fine and I did not feel that useless crap at all. Today I'll have to remain mindful of the time and do what I can. As usual, the very idea of hours alone feels wonderful. Hopefully that feeling does not change later today. Those old fears began to return this morning so I switched the media to an old movie from just prior to the glow. None of those problems existed back then. They honestly did not show up until much later, although my insides were screwed up despite the wondrous nature of the world. I can work with it all today because my space means control and comfort. Right now the time ahead seems wide open to my needs. The mornings do not always come across as such, however, because my brain will often manufacture shit out of thin air. Not today, thank the maker. I believe the media system yesterday sort of jump started my brain in the direction of organization like weeks ago. We shall see forsooth. That episode with the protracted discussion and eyes aired in the afternoon, and just before I went out to the garage and repaired the new receiver. The scene came and went, I spun myself into a frothy mess, and then the afternoon wore on. No harm done in the short term. Arina will be the deciding factor. She is growing in importance and the fantasy equally so. I don't know what is going to happen with that stuff, but honestly do not see a good outcome. We have to drive to the city today like last week. A disc player needs to be hooked up or something, and apparently I am the only person who can do it. Splendid. The upside is the feeling of arriving home again later and relaxing. Last time? I was overjoyed to get back here and hide behind the door. Today will be no different. Until then, I have time to get my things in order for the evening. I just spent a decent portion of time seeking images of higher quality for an upcoming entry (which no one will see anyway, but I have to like them and feel they fit the theme), most of which are you-know-who. I actually located one in which she is quite a bit older (likely the last five years or so) and looks more natural than the modeling images. Honestly? I prefer stills captured from the digital video of the show over those shot for magazines or interviews. The character is the thing, unlike some other figures. And that brings something to mind... Someone effectively trivialized my long-winded description of Jaime and all I feel for such a dream. That is not very nice, however I am certain that person did not realize the gravity and danger in taking something absolutely dire to my mental stability and making cold comments. Well, all the text (or nearly all) about that name is now absent from the site, and the next time someone takes issue with my feelings on the subject... Well, my reaction will not be good. The machine came to this space for damned good reason, and I cannot have people thinking it is just a silly fetish. I am talking about my ability to cope, for fuck's sake, and if you don't agree? That is fine. Everyone is entitled to whatever they may think or feel. Just do not express it to me. Ever. Ok, enough of that. Wow, was she ever thin at the beginning. I realize nearly two years passed between the pilot production and the second episode actually airing, but just... Wow. Eating disorder, too. The girl had her share of troubles. Thank Christ she recovered. The ride today may be a chore and it may not. Last time I was very worried and full of anxiety, yet in the end everything went fine. Perhaps focusing upon the previous trip will help calm me this morning. The bottom line is I need to work with the audio/video again and then we will leave. Not a big deal in the grand scheme. Every time I leave the house to do something, the joy in arriving home again ends up outweighing the difficulty. Focus. I'll be fine. This morning? I cannot WAIT to be back here safe and sound after that crap. All the old content is gone now. Only I have access because I no longer want anyone seeing this. Just a few months of archived entries remain. As soon as I feel enough time has passed for readers to be caught up, just one title will be here. Arina is the name for the time being. 173. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Out of the house yesterday for three different operations. The city drive and subsequent work on her television went ok, although she insisted we have cake and coffee afterward. That was rather goofy and uncomfortable after having had no lunch. We dashed out eventually and made tracks home. And then the goodbye gathering for the gentleman who stored his motorcycle here for almost a year... At a brewery. Some good and some not so good, the worst being most of the younger people spending time and appearing bright-eyed and hopeful. That is perfectly fine for them, I just don't need to be near that sort of thing anymore. After a little while we left for home a second time and then decided dinner was not going to be cooked by us. Back out the door to a local restaurant which served an excellent meal, yet somehow the occasion was very sad. The owners are aging and seeing such a fact breaks my heart. Each stop yesterday displayed its own difficulty and at least one reason I have created such a comfortable world within this house. Yes, I needed to see the couple before they move back east in a little over a week, but honestly we could have stopped in for just a moment rather than visiting for more than an hour. I just didn't think a short visit would have been polite, plus when he greeted me I could see the joy in our being there. Almost worthwhile. The city was not too bad, really, other than feeling forced to be patient. The restaurant took the cake, however. That was a toughie. Seeing them is nice but carries that underlying thought that they are not going to be operating that restaurant for much longer. Our server was really sweet and attentive which helped maintain the nice, calm atmosphere. Upon returning home, all three destinations began to work on my head even more than at the time and I ended up pretty damned tired of thinking. This day could not have come at a better point in the week. Thinking more and more about Arina and what she may mean in the coming weeks. I still don't know. Looking at Cindy's images sometimes pushes me to think that what goes on inside during certain times is driven by parts of my psyche I do not wish to acknowledge. I really don't, although the cryptic nature of some entries means I can generally spew whatever goes on inside without worry of backlash. I've done it before, too. Plenty. There is much more than meets the eye (ear), and this goes all the way back to the car salesperson. It really does, and then a few other occasions between her and the one at the pool, not to mention anything on television from one day to the next. Arina is growing into a representation of everything all rolled up and tied with a bow. Everything from the car dealership to the Realtor, and from Maggie to the one at the pool, then on to those images down south and heading straight for a chef I see from time to time. Toss in the fictional characters built from my own experiences and the resulting salad is a fucking mess. Arina is that salad. I need to keep her close and work out the details to effect change upon this life I am living. Cindy and the other one (Maja?) are about as aligned with the dreams as I can see right now, so here they (she) are (is). Whatever. Yesterday is still pushing on me. Problems, problems and more problems are pushing me to retract yet keep the knives at the ready. I have already pulled back quite a bit in the last week, with more coming each day. Look at Cindy's unreal makeup. Jesus, those artists know their stuff. I guess there is little point in my trying to understand some of the buried crap which began at the car dealership. A solution may not be forthcoming and brushes against one of the primary reasons for me avoiding anything psychological in school years ago... The unknown. It is not an exact science and lacks tons of clear answers. I was told such a discipline does not match my personality. No arguing that one. It just points toward the understanding of such issues over beauty and trying to learn of either the genesis or a coping method. So far, I have only learned there can be no shutting it off. There are long periods of flaring followed by some calm, after which I seem to write about it here and then experience tons of anxiety before finally giving up for a time. And then it happens again, usually after some kind of vision. And they will never go away. I can keep trying, but the effort is feeling more futile now than ever. Yesterday worked on my head until I fell off a cliff, and this morning is beginning to head in the same direction. I suppose the things I must accomplish each day are going to have to suffice for now. I am not educated in this stuff. Damn was Jamie ever thin in the first season, after the delay between pilot and second episode. By the time number five was shot? Too thin. The eating disorder. Thank Christ she recovered. I've heard people joking about the back-and-forth weight and appearance between seasons one and four, but I do not find any such things funny at all. She is a person above all other descriptors. Yes, I am head over heels for the character, but even before realizing such a fact I still felt compassion. Stick it. Don't get me started on the sixth season. Heh. Makes my heart hurt. This morning is very peaceful and quiet. Yesterday's trip to the city has facilitated an entire day without either of us needing to go anywhere. I still have my usual chores, though. Very enjoyable, those things. I'll have the show in the background (fourth), probably a small cocktail to go with the atmosphere, and then out to the garage to maximize storage space and garbage. After that I have a new flag pole and bracket to install. A little more work in the garage, too. The space is looking better, but more importantly it is very useful. We no longer have stacks of things here and there clogging up the works. I like to keep three areas functional, those being the laundry, space in front of the refrigerator and pantry, and the chest freezer. As long as everything is kept neat, we can access what is needed without issue. My work bench and table usually bear the brunt of too much crap out there, but at least I can work with it. Two days ago I pulled apart the old platform which used to live under my mattress. Some good wood was yielded, too. Very nice. I'll have to see if the material fits in the trash can this week. A little at a time can be tossed, so eventually everything will be gone. The wood may serve to create a small door in front of the water heater that will display another flag and hide my ladders. I will hinge the door, too. Almost time to transition into Sunday mode. Just for posterity: I know the problem. It is fully defined and will not go away. I am the product of societal influence and loss. I know what it is. Cannot spell it out, though. No labeling here, ever. 172. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I figured yesterday would be hit or miss because of all that time. I did go to the market for a few things and then went about the day at whatever pace seemed right. The new flag hardware is all installed and I made sure to maximize the garbage space. Other than those, not much was accomplished. Fifteen months have passed since I wrote (gushed) about the girl in the walnut commercial. I was just thinking about that because of the title and the fact that I've had the gangsters up there on my big television for weeks now. Jamie is not the reason, although her eyes do pull at me (I think I've made that clear). The title of the essay includes her name because that may have been the real beginning to my falling all over myself. Just in the last few months have the feelings REALLY expanded and have me bereft of solutions. There are always possible reasons, though, not the least of which is my penchant for dreaming of unattainable people and places. The walnut girl was a catalyst, just like those sisters at the pool. They were in the essay, too. Interesting that I slowed thinking of the thongs but now have been reminded of the walnut issue and everything it entailed. This could be bad, but at such a point in time and after all the shit I've written, 'bad' may not matter. I removed Jamie's name from the title. I think the walnut girl is a part of Arina. That is the feeling, anyway. Splendid. And there is another... I won't go into it right now. Images of her are scarce and I'm not going to bang my head against the concrete scouring the Internet. I've done enough of that for a lifetime. The whole day is in front of me. Hours. And the routine is finished. I may go to the market soon. Gangsters. Everything here is going to be the same aside from the dreamy, ethereal woman/figure/whatever which now has another name. She is the point of this whole thing and all the rest of the words are coming out of desperation. That means I have little to say anymore, hence the end of the site last month. There is no reason to publish anything. In fact, I dressed up the index with a nice image representing a departure of sorts and aligned all the links on the navbar to point nowhere. People will not like it but I don't care. This was outlined in the last published entry a few weeks ago. If that was not clear enough, too bad. My place, this shit. Mine. Go build your own. I suppose heading to the store is fine. I need alcohol for the evening and I may pick up a few snacks just in case the down time this afternoon runs long. Something has to help. The hardware store is awaiting a return plus I may need a few things once I think about it. In four days I am to meet a guy to help with some work and I don't know how I feel about it. It's only supposed to be a day and a half, yet I am apprehensive anyway. Probably all this fucking time of being almost completely isolated has jaded me even more than I had thought months ago when there was a chance of working in the city, full time. Ugh. There had been nothing on the horizon for a long while and then this came up last week. I'll go and meet the guy Thursday, however I have no idea how I am going to react until the day of. I agreed just to make others happy, not me. My only comfort is here in this house. Nowhere else. And though work is work and not always designed to be enjoyable, I am still worried. 171. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? No gangsters yet. I had to get her out the door and needed something mellow in the background while working. Soon I will make the switch and head into my little world. Arina was on my mind both last night and again early this morning. A few days ago we watched an episode of the show in the City and I saw an amazing face. A facet, and a reminder of Arina and her ongoing transition from several different characters to the one I need. Arina. Yep. Add to that a boost in my finances this morning and the comfort level at home right now is good. Between the time and space for me to dream of what I can and the helpful nature of stability in the house, today may be a high point of sorts. Some days the very idea of being holed up in here alone and secure brings me a solace otherwise unavailable in the world. Arina will become a part of that. Soon the eyes will assist. Cindy, too. This day will not be a trial like the last. I already know. Little steps here and there along with some time for thinking about the larger picture. 171 equals fail. Italians all over the screen stabbing my heart endlessly. I used to be in that club. So, almost time to put this away and work around the house. That beautiful yet scary woman is in this episode looking like a million bucks which can slice a person to ribbons. Oy. Anyway, upon publishing, I will probably try to work in the kitchen for a little while and then meander out to the garage to go through shit from last Saturday. Between today and tomorrow I would like to have that space in order again. Well, today is a bit different. I began the process of removing our hedge along the house side of the driveway. Lots of work, that one. I'll have to go a little at a time to ensure there is room in the green can. I only went about two feet along the side and already the can is two-thirds full. It's going to take several weeks for the whole thing to be gone. Geez. I also did the usual housework and moved some more stuff around in the office to help keep it organized. Arina has been following along. Every time I pause for one reason or another she is right there, albeit incomplete. Following, always. Karina is just behind her and looking like Kana. Kana handed me my cocktail and smiled, hair everywhere. I almost lost it. That was nearly eleven years ago and I can still see her face as if it was yesterday. Prior to seeing that Japanese beauty waddling around the casino, I had created a fictional woman with the same name who was one of four sisters and part of a story I was writing. That fell by the wayside but the four names stuck with me pretty well. When I turned and saw her dark skin, black hair and amazing, slender figure, I nearly lost the ability to speak. I asked if she was a hybrid, to which she responded with a resounding no. I complimented her gently and went on with my evening. Sometimes I can still see her because another woman all over the Internet resembles Kana enough to keep the image fairly clear. The model's name is Keilah. No meaning there, just appearance. Kana? She has become rolled up with the rest. Probably not a good thing. Karina was one of her sisters. Ugh, the work is two days from now and I am feeling a measure of worry. Not too much anxiety (not physical), just worry. I hope the feeling does not amplify and cause me to cancel. Something like that could make me look bad to others and I can't have it right now. I am hoping it turns in on itself like those two trips to the city. Upon reaching our destination both times, I felt better, and then when we left to head home nearly all of the worry was gone. Honestly? If I feel going with the guy to help with his projects is going to harm me I will dump the plan completely. I have to look out for number one right now, and that means remaining in this house for as long as is necessary for my apprehension to dissipate. If it never does? I'll be right fucking here. So far, I am doing my best to see the work as a small, temporary deviation from my world. More of Cindy. I just cannot avoid staring at her form and face. She kills me. Brazilian, of course, and all of five-eight. Not an inch of that is out of place. If only she could have avoided the high jeans. Heh. At least you can see that she walks like a model. She is here again not only for the obvious unbelievable beauty, but also due to my deciding against more Jamie unless the images are captured from video. I really don't feel like doing the legwork, so Cindy is option two. Three will be Maja again, eventually. The neighbor stopped by to shoot the shit a little. Very nice, that guy. I always enjoying catching up with those around the street. You never know when there will be trouble, and familiarity with neighbors can come in handy. Nice people here. Gangsters, second season. The funding extension is supporting my need to remain at home for the duration, and just last year at this time I had been concerned with when it might run out. Apparently, the economy has not recovered and we are deep into a massive recession, meaning I am among millions with no other options but to wait. I'm going to look into entry-level positions in some office atmospheres for peace of mind. Fortunately, there is plenty of time for me to be picky. Months ago I stated my deep hesitation in reentering the workforce, and now I feel somewhat relaxed about the idea as long as I can slide into something comfortable and secure. An office could be ideal if I qualify. Age and a lack of diplomas are the sticking points. Can't do anything about them. Right now I can say in all seriousness that the extension has calmed me tremendously. The help I plan to provide two days from now is all cash, thank God. 'It is an affront to our holy sacristy.' No eyes for a while. They will probably come around the bend toward the end of the week depending upon the work situation. In the evening I have been running the fourth show for comfort. That one has risen to a close second behind the chief entry in the franchise. There are still some difficulties, however my extensive understanding and experience help to push them to the rear quickly. After the fourth show runs its course, I may go back to the second. Not sure yet. Daytime may be ruled by the gangsters. 170. I'll have the house to myself a half hour earlier today. Very nice. After yesterday I could use a little more peace and quiet. I keep thinking about the work tomorrow and Friday, although I'm more comfortable about it than I was at this hour yesterday. I took care of a few small items after nearly losing my way and am feeling pretty proud of pushing like that. Some days I just can't do it and then the evening fails to feel deserved. I'll ensure things move along in good form just for that reason. Just fucking look at the woman. Speaking of affronts, the issue which slapped me some months ago and caused my cutting off some of the movies and actors from my list of acceptable media came up last night in the background. It really did, and buried within a show I figured was going to move along without problems. Well, for the most part there are no problems and I can enjoy the content comfortably. There was a reminder and a rather pointed remark which would likely be meaningless to everyone save for me. The last couple of weeks with me closed off from people have resulted in more clear thinking. No distractions whatsoever and the space to be what I need. Last night came and went, causing nothing more than a quick reminder of some conversations in the past. The problem is still there -- inside me with all the rest -- yet for whatever reason does not press me as much as a few months ago. I believe my antisocial stance is a possible cause. No choice there. Not anymore. After taking care of the morning business I began to think about the film playing up on my television and the era in which it first premiered. This is a reminder of those days working at my first job ever, the butcher shop. My boss took me two cities north to see it with him and I remember most of the evening. That was eighty-five, believe it or not, and a time when satellite and cable broadcasts were changing. The connection I had with satellites during the late glow (CD changer girl... That place) was intriguing and flared as I read about dishes. The old c-band information is apparently still there, somewhat, though everything has been completely tightened up for the sake of profit these days. Anything compelling or fascinating seems to have been abandoned in favor of some large company taking control of a standard and exploiting it for their own good fortune. The whole thing makes me want to put up some antennae and learn what is out there. Heh. I have to do something to set myself apart from the image in my head. No, not an image of another person, nor the idea of doing something to distance myself from others. I mean I need to move in such a direction so as to reverse the image in the mirror. This will take some effort and concentration. I have no idea, but I can say that the thinking process is related to the satellite signals floating around in the atmosphere. All I have is an oscilloscope -- which cannot do much with regard to RF -- and a multimeter at present. A spectrum analyzer would be ideal in centering upon specific frequencies. Unfortunately, that is not in the cards right now. Perhaps I can get some things sold and generate enough funds for something simple. After that I can learn as to how I can do something with those signals. A broadcast could be the best idea. Much learning is on tap for the time being. Learning is still free, thank goodness, as are any signals floating up there. Switch. Arina. The girl on the farm pushed her back to the forefront. I have to turn off that show due to the rampant, endless thoughts she brings to mind. Don't fucking get me started, please. Gangsters again, too. I don't know how many different women are rolled into Arina now. Perhaps ten. The entire idea is ridiculous and should be avoided, yet I have no idea of how to keep it at bay. Maybe I should not write about her for a while. The title stays, though. A good portion of the draw is all over the sixteen images here. Just fucking look at her. The doe-eyes of the universe. Second to the other eyes, too, believe it or not. I went to the jewelry store to have the watch repaired and then to the market for a few things. Not yet one in the afternoon and I am running out of gas already. Something will come along I'm sure, but for now I'll sit here. No worry over the work tomorrow and Friday. I was concerned more yesterday but now it has passed. Hopefully it will not return in the morning. Only a half day tomorrow and then most of Friday. Not that big of a deal. The situation just reminds me of all the time here for the last fifteen months and how deeply I've embedded myself in this house. The shindig on the fourth a couple of weeks ago, my friend's little gathering for his going-away, and the neighbor stopping by yesterday have not added up to shit, so perhaps I'll be fine tomorrow. Going out to two stores went fine. I always try to shop before lunch as most places are fairly empty. Still, and no matter how smoothly any trip outside goes, I still swell with comfort upon entering this house again. That is one aspect of the upcoming work on which I am trying to focus. What the hell have I turned into? Don't want to leave the house? I know all those years of being mired in a toilsome and troubling line of work sure made me worship the time off, but Jesus... Was it THAT bad? Maybe. But now? What happened? Was I always in need of remaining home and having total control over the atmosphere? Again... Maybe. I suppose I did not put things together in the past as I did just last year when the shit hit the fan. Whatever happened, I am radically different than months ago. Oh, I enjoyed the time and space alone and formed this little world to my preferences, but honestly I feel different. And? Differently. I no longer have any wish to commiserate with others at the bar like years ago. I don't have visions of big parties here with the grill going and music everywhere, either. None of it. I have become perfectly content in this house with my stuff at the ready and the media of choice. As soon as I hear the voices of others? I want to run away. I've never been this withdrawn. Jesus fuck is Barbara ever gorgeous in this episode and the last. I can't put my finger on why, but suffice to say she is stunning in any scene. Doe eyes? Maybe somewhat. But there is something which pulls at my heart when I see her, smiling or not. 169. I have to go meet that guy in a couple of hours. Ugh. I wish I could stay here, but at least the contrast will be very apparent afterward. The joy in arriving home will hopefully make the whole kluge worthwhile. The operative word is 'hopefully'. Yesterday turned out to be ok and I did not lose my way as much as other days. I am nervous right now. Don't like it. I did not go. As the time approached to get ready and leave, the feeling of being out there with someone unfamiliar and in a place over which I cannot possibly have any control took over my senses and knotted my stomach to the point of realizing I have to stay here. I'm sure the guy is disappointed, yet the positive aspects are clear: I am right where I need to be for my sanity, and she is very understanding. In fact, before she took off for work, she was more concerned for my well-being than the work I was supposed to do. I just cannot do it right now. As was suspected many months ago after the trip south for lunch and shopping (the same day of that fateful viewing of the woman in the parking garage), I may no longer be equipped to handle anything similar to my previous career. Too many unknowns there, plus the idea of never knowing where we may end up nor what each job may entail. I had enough of that for several years, sometimes working to my advantage but all too often turning into a very uncomfortable situation. Now I am alone for the day and could not be more secure in the idea of remaining at home. Hopefully the good will soon outweigh the bad. As I said, I do not know the guy with whom I would have been working, which means little to no fallout. I am not employed by anyone, and as such can enjoy the freedom of using my favorite word... NO. This day must be all mine. I need just under thirty-seven minutes and the comfort will arrive. I know it. She said I am beginning to live as if I have a disability. Hmm. Not good, especially considering another person noticed enough to make such a comment. She may be right. If so? I'm in trouble. The issue may be related to when I leave the house to go to the market or hardware in that when I do, the time is completely under my control. Yes, that word again. If I have to go out these days, whatever I do and wherever I go is entirely up to me and my sense of comfort and security. Work can be the opposite. Not good. Jesus holy God in heaven does Jamie's fucking hair ever look stunning at the beginning of this episode. I do not understand at all. Whatever. Twelve minutes to comfort. Today I am going to do my usual routine and some laundry. Holed up, behind the locked doors, and full of love for the familiar. Yesterday I took some of the wood left over from dismantling our old bed platform and built a framework to hold one of my flags in the garage. I am going to add hinges and mount it in front of the water heater to hide things. The ladders are back there, too. I had the flag pinned to the speaker shelf on the fourth and the appearance was nice. The wood from the platform facilitated the idea for a door of sorts. I might go out and get hinges later and continue the project. Two reasons for the door: One, the wind tends to cause the flag to blow all over the place (near the water heater such is not good) and the flag will remain fully visible, and two, I will have easier access to whatever may be stored behind it. Plus, it's something to both occupy my time and enhance the area. The issue out there now is the fact that I recently repaired the display on my new receiver and the fucking thing went dark yesterday while working on the door frame. The system is all nice and neat, meaning if I wish to go back inside the unit and see if the same resistor is fried, I'll have to disassemble the stack again. Just... Ugh. Those early nineties models are notorious for having flaky display circuitry. I may have made a mistake in purchasing something known to have issues over the years. Fortunately, it was not expensive. I'll have to do more research before choosing an avenue. Very disappointing. I have nearly a hundred more resistors (they are only sold in bulk), but I'll be damned if I'm going to rework the fucking thing every week. Nine o'clock. Comfort, at last. All alone, left to whatever I feel needs to be done, and everything is now under my complete control. Sound familiar? Pause. Routine finished. Gangsters keeping me company. Again I have been considering whatever it is I have become. The fear this morning drove us into an uncomfortable situation, after which I inquired as to how I may appear to her. I was very worried. The answer was that she is concerned about me but not upset in any way. The very mention of some sort of disability really threw me for a loop this morning. I am calmer now -- mostly due to being where I need -- and having remained home today and forgoing any outside work has diminished the worry quite a bit. This is becoming a larger issue than I had described months ago. If my condition turns out to be an extension or some sort of underlying reinforcement of long-term depression, I may be holed up in this little house forever. People on the outside may see me as lazy or someone unwilling to work because of any number of other reasons, but the truth is beginning to form: After reading extensively on the subject of returning to the office and other places of work once the year of remaining isolated has taken a toll, I am starting to see that many others are in the same fucking boat. If people think I am lazy, they can take a flying leap. And something just came to mind from years ago... Disability. That word conjured memories of late ten and early eleven when I was unable to work due to my mental health. The condition described in my medical record was long-term, and I believe over the last decade I have become worse but did not think in such terms. Now? After a year of being home and mostly isolated? I may not have the ability to go back out into the working world because of the combination of depression cemented to being so deeply embedded within this house and the little world I have created. I will not address the other world... The dreamy space I can never inhabit. The reason is that if I spell out too much of the way I think these days I may not be able to defend such a position. This is bad. I will be labeled and treated as a mental case just like during that terrible period. I can't have that, yet the compulsion to seek therapy for the sole purpose of justifying my current state may become too much to bear. Jesus... Talk about doe eyes. 'There oughta be a law.' 168. Only the smallest advances were made yesterday after my work was completed. The day initially felt long, yet a little while later I saw the clock turn into a propeller. At least I had lots of time to consider my circumstance. A little bit of work on my new door was about it, really. Laundry keeps me in the garage sometimes in order to keep an eye on the timers. This is the time of morning when I feel overjoyed to be here (all day, honestly, but the morning is special), sitting with coffee and one of the shows. The day feels wide open and all mine. This episode just reminded me of my drive yesterday and seeing one of the restaurants over the hill which has been closed for some time. I've only been there once, I believe, because my experiences at a couple of other locations were mediocre. The place is known for the servers' outfits and being ideal for sports. The occasion in question was the plan of a friend to gather in that place for a race on the television and some lunch. I had discussed this with a person familiar with the chain and she was convinced I would have a bit of trouble due to the staff, but I assured her nothing like what she suggested had never been the case in the past. We went, and I was unconcerned with the appearance of the servers. Right out of the gate as we sidled up to the bar, there stood the bartender and one of the most stunning women I had seen in quite some time. I could not believe it. After brushing off the chain because the food had been only 'so-so' and the female staff not really living up to enough hype to make me sit there for the food, the woman came over to take our drink order and I nearly fell off the stool. Unreal, dark, tall. I could not keep my eyes off her face for the duration of our visit to the bar. Fortunately, and after holding it together longer than I thought possible, we relocated across the room and I did not see her much again. The remaining servers who took care of our large party were younger but nowhere near the same. A while later as we strolled out the door, there she was with both a huge, black mane and deeply beautiful eyes. I never saw her again. Now they have closed their doors either due to the pandemic or some other reason, and I can barely recall her appearance. I just know it was staggering. I did not go back to that restaurant a second time. I brought her up because of the show, and now the idea of Arina is becoming further spread into the past. All the way back to that first server at the brewery in Pleasanton. The one I tried to describe. I still see her reaching for an order from the kitchen in her jeans. That is way the fuck back, possibly the era of the trailer right around the corner from downtown. We were in that bar a few times, mostly to see a band. I only saw her on two occasions and my head blew wide open as a result. I still feel butterflies when I think of the sight. Nothing aside from the car wash girl came close until years later on the television. Yep... Rollercoaster. Arina, Karina, Kalina, Ramie, Kana... Jamie? I feel as if the entire vision has become too haphazard for me to explore. All those names, and I didn't even add Cindy. Or Maja. Or Ruslana. Damn. Maybe the title should be altered to better reflect the concerns brought up here. I don't know. Look at Cindy below and try to imagine her being slightly Asian or possibly Italian. This is how my mind works. Bigger eyes? Like Steven said, 'Ahhh fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Too many names. At least I have time to think about everything. Pause for the morning business. Well, all of my usual stuff is finished and I have some laundry going. I also finished the flag door. What a pain in the ass. I ended up not using the lower hinge in favor of making a small pivot instead. That took a while, but at least the frame is no longer taking up space on my bench. The garage is not too bad right now. I did have to dig into the chest freezer for some protein for dinner. Another pain in the rear. There is more available space there, too. Eventually we intend to empty and defrost the freezer and then start from scratch. I have to go out later and drop off the goddess at a rental car place. Upon returning I can start some pasta sauce for dinner tonight and tomorrow. Very nice. Cocktail time. This afternoon is very peaceful and I have been considering the decision to avoid work yesterday and today. I made the right choice, although the entire situation has pushed me to believe that I do indeed need to speak with a professional. I may not be able to work in part due to the last year-plus at home. The only therapy I have embraced is being right here in this house, and such a realization cannot be overstated. Not one bit. The house has become a very comfortable sanctuary. I feel somewhat as I did back at the end of ten when I took a leave of absence from that career. Isolated. This is different, though, as I do not have a job. Back then? I needed the time away from both work and home. Now I need the time to consider what I may be capable of in the future, if anything. Two hours before I must leave the house. No big deal, unlike the prospect of work yesterday. This will be a simple pick-up and drop-off, after which I will return here and make the pasta sauce. I was a fucking basket case yesterday morning while getting things ready for her. The difficulty subsided within a couple of hours as I found myself secure in the knowledge that I did not have to go anywhere. Later I did break out and head down the peninsula for the hardware and some browsing at the mall, but that is completely different. Behind the wheel of my car I am in total control of any destination and route. My little auxiliary space, media and all. Going to a place unknown to me for the purpose of working with someone I do not know from Adam became an enormous hurdle, and one I found myself unable to traverse. Whenever I need to go to the market or hardware (pretty much my only two types of destinations anymore), my head has little difficulty coping because I am in control. This has become a larger issue than I could have imagined just a few months ago. This afternoon has me researching information on disability income. Yep... THAT bad. At least I have the medical records from the last two decades in support of this need. I was a pretty screwed up individual just a decade back, and the fact that some of it is returning does not surprise me at all. Plus... I am only eight years from the earliest retirement age. That means any meaningful and/or fulfilling work may not be available to me anymore. Age plus a lack of diplomas. At this point, I may indeed be finished with gainful employment for this lifetime. Sad, yet necessary. A week from tomorrow I will be attending an event for the brotherhood, believe it or not, and have absolutely no reservations about going. The drive is over an hour -- holed up in my second home with coffee and music of only my choice -- and I plan to spend at least a few hours there. I have not been to any event for over a year. The lightened restrictions mean everyone should be more relaxed than what took place last summer. The following day is the race up north and we plan to attend with the usual lunch bag. Last year it was canceled and our ticket funds were pushed to the present event, meaning the money was spent nearly eighteen months back. I am looking forward to either sitting and watching the eliminations or going with option 'B' which is our cameras and less time spent in the grandstand. I thought of that a few years ago but never did it. My camera pretty much lives in its bag these days. Between the Saturday and Sunday outings, the peace and quiet of Monday morning will likely be very rewarding. Jesus fuck does that woman have a pair of eyes. Hence? She is a part of Arina, the fucking universe in and of itself. Forming... Ever forming. Dinner last night turned out to be a cluster. Just the dogs in croissants, meaning very little prep. I enjoy the time in our kitchen during the evening enough to push for something more dramatic tonight. I will make the sauce and simmer slowly until such time as we sit for the meal. Nighttime means the fourth show up on both televisions lending to the warm and comforting kitchen atmosphere, complete with a drink. I look forward to working in there every single day and sometimes nothing else can compare. Just thinking about crafting a sauce from scratch warms my heart and is difficult to describe. From the show to the drink to the feeling of being in one of the most cozy, secure places in my world... I am overly excited even three hours before the fact. I just love it to no end. Moreover, tomorrow will be another full day with nothing going on aside from whatever I wish. The current period does not get much better than this. 167. Everything went well yesterday, except my sauce was a tad sweet. At least I spent some cozy time in the kitchen with the television. Preparing food in there is as heartwarming as anything else. After considering the situation within which I currently reside combined with much of the thinking related to where I was, the kitchen work came in handy. Going out to drop her off at the rental center was enjoyable, although I had been anxious to get into my comfort zone upon returning so the trip ended up all business. I also realized the flag door cannot be opened while the garage door is down without a bracket being modified. The little protrusion which holds a position sensor for my smart opener sticks out enough to disallow the door opening at all. I did not see it while working because the big door was up all day. I can chop off the excess aluminum and everything will be fine. And then we have today. No plans to leave the house unless I decide to head off to the market for a few things. If not, I am here for the duration. The quiet morning with my friends up there is very nice right now. Coffee and this machine. Getting the flag door mounted was rather nice, yet I still have the nagging hedge which is a very slow project. We do not compost in the yard, so I have to chop it a little at a time each week and toss the clippings into the green can. I don't want to cut too much and have a pile of crap in the yard, so waiting is the only way. Wow, Albert's jacket and shirt are fucking fantastic. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I may empty the pantry shelves and see about leveling and reinforcing that cabinet. Ever since I mounted the doors, the vertical lines have all been standing out against the studs and other areas which are dead plumb, and every time I go out there from the backyard I see the difference between that pantry and the huge cabinets I installed years ago which are plumb. The pantry has got to be over and inch out of plumb in perhaps six feet and it drives me mad. I can't have so much going on out there and looking sharp while one object is fucked up. I have to fix it, and considering the shelving unit has been here since before she bought the house, I don't even know how it is attached to the wall. But I can figure it out and work accordingly. That goofy, tilted object will drive me crazy no longer. Whether I have to completely rebuild it or otherwise, the corner where it rests is going to match the remainder of my garage. Believe it. I am also going to secure some plywood for enclosing the shelves above the laundry area. I simply need to cover some aspects of daily life. Oof, Paulie appropriated T's painting when the instruction was to have it burned. I really need to think about this work situation deeply. If the truth is I can no longer go out there and work for another person or company, the result is I will need to discuss the possibilities with a professional on the outside to gain some insight on available options. The recent extension is helping a great deal, too. So, that means I have some time to get my thinking in order before anything becomes dire or dramatic. The fact is I am not terribly worried about the future as I was a few years ago. That has been sidestepped and my focus pulled in another direction, and one I am not happy about. It's been lingering for a long while, too. Decades ago I began to dream of things I wished to do in this life and there seemed a ton of time ahead. Nothing crazy or unreal, either. Just ideas, like driving to the far north or visiting places I hadn't seen, living in certain areas or having certain possessions. Like I said, nothing crazy. But now? I am not seeing the time to do any of them, honestly. The resources are extremely thin and cannot increase without some unexpected windfall, meaning I have to be very careful with how I approach some things. But the overarching theme has changed in recent months. Money or not, many of those seemingly endless avenues which used to be illuminated are now dark. There is a light side, though. The road trip coming in December may not be pointed where I would prefer, yet it could still hold much promise. The cameras, seeing some sights, the open road and being the hell out of this massive metropolitan area for a while could be very good for the soul and my ability to cope with daily life. Hopefully it is not the last time I'm able to get out and away for my own survival. Back to the dark... This may be all I am or have any longer. My kitchen enjoyment, the little things dropped on the porch, and working on whatever seems most interesting or important. On the inside? The dream of Arina. This may be all I have. Maybe. If so, it is a devastating realization. 167 again. Just finished the last one. Maybe these should all be on one page. Hmm. Well, now they are. Suck it. Anthony said they were 'studying'. Yeah... Right. He was studying Devon's fucking anatomy. And he didn't even appreciate the fact that she really liked him. Too hung up on appearances and money, status, whatever. What an idiot. She was gorgeous, slender and very rich, yet none of that came across when she spoke. No body language, preconceptions, nothing. Just a person who liked him. He couldn't get past the money for a while. Dipshit. Anyway... The sun is shining like yesterday, meaning I could get out there and make some things happen today. Eventually I'll move away from this and dress myself to work around the house. Maybe the pantry can be addressed. I also need to move the laundry along and replace the sheets on the bed. Little things, one at a time. Between today and all the free time I'll have tomorrow, by Monday I should be in a good position to explore other avenues. Sometimes there seems too much, yet the space is always available. I just have to concentrate and avoid becoming too hung up on whatever is not getting done. There is time, and I need it. Another furthering of the idea that anywhere but home can be a problem. The last several months have shown that my routine is extremely important to my daily existence and without it I tend to fall down. Disabled? Perhaps, and like years ago I must look at all facets of my life and determine if I must head in such a direction. In addition, I took some time yesterday to look at my medical records and saw that everything is there and available for download, all the way back to zero three when I was running off in search of peace and comfort. The reasoning behind my dashing away from time to time was to be in complete control of my atmosphere and circumstances, both of which may be impossible to others but I do not see them as such. They sum as a mindset, and one I may not be able to live without. Arina is a part of it, too. She is in charge of a good portion of my daily thinking. I may be able to make this work. More reading of my records and consideration of speaking with a therapist again have to remain in front of other concerns, or at least concurrent. I can't lose track. As I said above, what I do on a daily basis and being in this little house may be all I have left, so maximizing and securing the lifestyle must be a priority. Time will tell, and I'll bring whatever develops to this space for reference. I can't stop staring at Cindy. There is one shot of Maja, too, and I placed her here for both contrast and the dream of connecting several appearances, not the least of which is that pair of eyes. All those names... But Cindy takes all the cake. I realize she has been altered from what nature did, but considering the very artificial manner in which society has developed since the outset of the mainstream Internet, I really don't care. She is still real to me. Remember the machine? Cindy will always be more real than anything mechanical. Believe it. If you don't appreciate a person reworking themselves for the camera, we simply disagree. Look at all the images of her. Just look. She is amazing. Her five-eight stance is apparent in every detail, not to mention the fucking doe eyes. Yep, the eyes again. Live with it. And yes, I still have a thing for the fucking height. Live with that, too, fuckers. Maja's one image has been replaced by another Cindy. Oy, I have to try avoiding the 'gush'. Too much sometimes. At least I have not had her printed for display like I did with Jaime. Not yet, anyway. Little Carmine may have been a walking, talking malapropism, but I have to say Abruzzo did an excellent job. No mustard or knives lately. This is good. 166. I am beginning to feel as I did weeks ago when the troubles began to mount and I had no outlet. Fortunately, this day is nearly all mine, so I'll have time for much consideration of the circumstances which have been driven by more than one catalyst. Yesterday went well for the most part, so this morning seems that much more arduous by comparison. Focus. Some parts of life are just too elusive. I may lash in using my own methods later as a result. Time will pass and things will change, but for right now I am not happy. I was looking at Alice yesterday and thought perhaps she was a part of the beginning. Yes, the woman had a pretty damned vast forehead, but I believe her eyes and hair contributed to the 'dark' appreciation which had not been on my mind as much back then. It grew later. The early zeros had me perusing some different models -- one of which was a complete mystery, upon which a friend of mine commented about the brunette aspect and really had me beginning to analyze -- each and every one of them was darker. No blonde hair or blue eyes. Alice was super cute when the episode first aired, and now despite appearing different than all those years back, I can still see where my brain went upon gazing at her face. Very interesting if one considers that the rarity is a head full of blonde hair. Cindy's hair is usually brown unless they have her made up all crazy. VS does that sometimes. Dark brown. Reversing the image search for Cindy and some of the work she's done in the past actually yielded a few snaps of Alexis, believe it or not. There are similarities, although one is not even in the same universe as the other. Honestly people, don't push. My second flag pole arrived yesterday and I already installed the bracket and built the assembly. That means not only are they completely secure and will not wrap up in the wind, but also the new brackets are stainless and very smooth. Easier to deploy and easier to store. Moreover, the clips for each flag mean I can change the right-hand side on a whim if I wish. The whole thing was not too expensive and I've been meaning to get those brackets replaced for some time. There was little motivation until I had both flags out there on the fourth and had to untangle each several times during the afternoon. [Aside... Into the fifth season now and Jamie is beginning to stand out. Fuck.] Now that my flag issues are seemingly gone, I can focus elsewhere today. In fact, just yesterday morning I emptied the entire pantry onto my benches with the intention of adjusting and securing the shelving unit to the side wall. I brought up the idea that it is so far out of plumb, too. Today I will try to pull the nails and see what I can do to get it where it should rest. The doors will work better, I already have the LEDs to put under each shelf, and one spot above to illuminate whatever decorates the doors after everything else is finished. The only difficult part is the beginning. I have to get the huge nails pulled and free it enough to move around. Ugh. Arina, the defining and final compilation of everything in my head. This is a problem alongside the issues already plaguing my daily life, although yesterday had lighter moments and a connection I did not believe possible any longer. A big plus, yet underneath is a mess of minuses. Cindy is not at fault, nor is Arina. They are innocent and I am just a person sitting in a little house with a computer. And Cindy is Arina, or the other way around. Fuck it, I don't know. I felt like crap last night. It's possible that the drinking and heavy food lent a hand. Keeping that in mind today will help me remain upright. I have lots of time before and during her trip to the city and no outside destinations. I'll have to be careful so as to avoid losing ambition before completing some stuff. I am actually not all that great right now, but I know how to maintain or improve if I wish. Today it will be important. And I need the distraction of projects. Switch. Some things are completely out of reach. I cannot do anything about them and end up feeling quite frustrated and worried during the first half of a given day. Most of the time when I head out to the garage while she is still sleeping, this is the reason. I can't do a fucking thing, so the decision is often made to just shove the anger to the rear and make nice as if nothing is wrong. Inside, however, the giant machine is working to develop anything which will slam people into a small space forever. Everything either demeaning or unsatisfying in life eventually drives the train into the trees and the result is hesitation and a very pissy mood. Other people do this with their off-putting and uncaring ways, along with the long-standing problems which seem to push those very same assholes to trivialize and diminish any fucking importance. Ok, the point is made there. The fact that there are no avenues drives me to do things which will force others to question my actions, after which there are no clear answers. Do not try to understand because whatever is going on in life will be upended in ways you'll never explain. And I will never help. Out of reach means fuck everything. As often as I feel this level of both dissatisfaction and disdain, the first move in the morning after sitting here for a while is to work around the house... Beginning something. Anything. I have to push myself in some odd direction and keep the feelings to the rear or I'll end up in the car far away. And then more questions from people that I really do not fucking need right now. So, off the sofa leads to whatever little chores I can knock out until the brain fully relaxes. This type of trouble -- yep, the stuff sans solutions -- is the most challenging situation I could have imagined this many years into life. I never made it clear, thus the others did not follow, thus I became unhappy, thus it was catalyzed by yours truly. Yes. The past as it relates to this is something I no longer wish to discuss, and I cannot blame those in my life for anything stemming from that period or what I have become. I'll have to embrace the same direction as I normally do when feeling this way. Today is wide open, I have things to button up for the garbage, and there are always other details to work through. I don't have to drive the car, either. Hopefully in a little while I can shelve the anger and enjoy my day. I feel bad with the mood now. Cindy is here and displaying more beauty than I had thought possible on earth, while I am sitting and bellyaching all over the fucking place. Oh, well... She will never know of this, nor am I saying anything negative about her. I know nothing of the woman, thank the maker. Just looking. I wish Barbara had not changed. The newer actor is really good (which is the most important aspect), but the past actor was so fucking stunning that I fell all over myself during seasons one and two, and before Jamie took over the manner in which I see people. Nicole was unreal. I miss seeing her up there, although you already know this is not the last time the gangsters will run their course on my televisions. I'll see her and those dark eyes again. And I'll see the other one, too... The universe in her smile. I'll try to avoid going on much more about Cindy. The fact is I ran across her by accident while seeking some higher resolution images of Ruslana. I saw the eyes and then the height, afterward falling all over the fucking place as I located more images. An accidental and wonderful turn of the card. Oy. Damn. 165. Aside from the pain in the ass of getting things organized both before and after her trip to the city, yesterday turned out to be not bad. I actually emptied the pantry a few days ago and decided that it was time to attempt disconnecting it from the wall so the entire cabinet can be leveled. On the downside, the weather was very warm all day and into the early evening, but on the upside I succeeded in dismounting, leveling, and then remounting the assembly to the garage wall. Not only is it plumb and looks a million times better, but in the process I removed the old, undersized posts which served as legs and replaced them with four-inch PT on either side. Now the fucker is not going anywhere, nor will it swing off level no matter how much weight is inside. Very satisfying, but oy did the work take its toll on me physically. I'm not in the same shape as I had been the last several years. But it's done. The cabinet doors have been there for months but I never decorated because anything displayed on the doors would only have exaggerated the vertical lines and made the crooked appearance that much more apparent. So, they have been blank with a custom light fixture above awaiting the day when everything aligned with the rest of the garage. Yesterday was a big step, too. The entire back corner of the garage looks much better now. In addition, I calculated a way to illuminate the one poster of Emily from above, effectively creating a gradient between the colored lamp above and drawing a fuzzy line as the eye moves downward. I have everything necessary for the project, although this morning the warmth is more than apparent and later may hinder my ambition to work very much out there. Ah... Garbage trucks. Good job, guys. Still looking at the images of Cindy? They are not going away, nor am I going to minimize the amount of real estate to which she is attached, ever. The woman is in the fold along with some others, and a part of something I must continue to embrace and explore. And yes, her looks are the reason. I don't know the person and never will (probably wouldn't like her anyway because I don't really like anyone these days), meaning her appearance is paramount and here for the duration. On and off for the last few months I have agonized over much of the more risqué imagery and some of the text as it related to well-known people. I felt bad over the one young actor and removed the entry, then moving toward some of the more personal or revealing tales to be cut off. Eventually I removed the entirety of the content save for one gorgeous image of Maja. Er... I just changed it to a closeup of Jamie. The eyes always win. Anyway, for reasons partly beyond my comprehension, having some of my innermost feelings on display for the world to see became uncomfortable -- even moreso than those reckless words about the young actor -- and I decided that my feelings are my own and no longer need to be subject to another person's interpretation. Sharing is not caring. That is bullshit and only applies to handing someone a piece of chocolate. Cindy is a representation of just how skewed my sense of beauty has become in recent months (years?) and I feel that her presence here will continue to remind me of the impossibility of so many parts of life becoming satisfying. She does not need to embrace the understanding because she is but a set of images. Flat, lifeless, and digitized. Moreover, the content which has been shelved all began to point toward the same fucking conclusion anyway, and her beauty is the summation. Period. Most of her is now Arina. Just a furthering of my isolation and dependence upon all things impossible and combined with worlds I can never know. Already pretty damned warm outside at just shy of half past eight in the morning. Oof. Lots of things I wish to do today, not the least of which is to get some older posters from the bar and attach them to the pantry doors. At some point I'll get the light connected to the rest of the colored system, but today may not be the time. Yesterday I decided to get the cabinet in order but should have waited. The heat affects me much more now than a decade ago. The posters should prove enjoyable and none too strenuous. I also have the usual chores which are no big deal anymore. So far the house is cool but that will change toward the afternoon. I'll have to remain mindful of my timeline in this weather. Calling no joy. Calling no joy. Just Arina. She is the rolled-up conglomeration of dreams from the early nineties all the way to this very second. Cindy is in there, somewhere. I can't stop looking at her eyes. And consider that the reference eyes of the universe are not even on display here. Heh... Splendid. And pause. My routine is finished. The weather is still mild and the temperature is slowly rising indoors. I don't believe today will be as warm as yesterday, although I could be wrong. The nice aspect is a more comfortable evening due to the sun heating up the roof. Too hot outside means it could end up less cozy in here, but since I'm home all day I can manage the windows and such. I guess it's better than the last few weeks of very cool wind once the sun goes away. Fog is right out there waiting. The ocean is less than a mile away. Well, I have to go out in a little while and do the opposite of last Friday. She will be returning the rental car and I'll be heading there to bring her home, probably in about thirty minutes or so. At least the drive will break up my time at home and make the return enjoyable. This type of day is very important for my peace of mind. I need comfort, especially now, and going out has already caused a bit of anxiety. That means when I step through the front door in a little while I'll be more at ease. I suppose it's like when I used to head out for work in the morning. Upon finishing for the day and coming home, I was overjoyed. Today is one of those in which I may not do much other than the drive. The last two days were powerful and have left me in dire need of peace and quiet. I am probably capable of much more than what has been worked out within my head, but I honestly cannot be certain until out there in the flame of society. Familiar people are fine -- like those at the bar last Saturday -- but otherwise I do not wish to be near others nearly all of the time. That fact is driven in toto by the comfort at home. Alone. No one asking anything. No voices. Arina... Driving me inward unlike anything before. Could she be waiting in the forest? Hmm. I wrote about inner fortification. The time may be nigh for outer fortification. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. Maybe I will either disassemble one of the big cars to build it again or possibly order another huge model with which to work. The evenings when she is on the phone have been rather bland with my not knowing what to do at times. The last time I built one of the big cars, the work lasted several days and kept my mind occupied during those long phone calls. There is one massive kit but it is very expensive and I am hesitant to make that type of purchase right now. The last item I bought was the fucking receiver and that went to shit. It works well and only the display is a problem. I repaired it only to find the thing nonfunctional just days later, and now I am disillusioned with the product line from that era. One manufacturer, anyway. Spending money on anything else right now must yield much enjoyment or I can't pull the trigger. I guess I'll see how things go during the first few weeks of the extension before making any decision. I sure love building, though. Right up my freaking alley. I gushed my love for Jamie and her unbelievably huge eyes some months ago. I still feel the same, if not more. Can't help it any longer. The character's appearance and demeanor throughout the fifth and sixth seasons has grown on me so much that my feelings continue to expand. Cindy is causing the same type of situation inside, as well. Combining those two with the dreams of a machine-hostess from Vegas is a natural extension of everything I have been trying to describe for more than a year. 164. Very cool this morning. Yesterday I thought the mercury was going to head north like the day before but it never really got up there. The fog helped keep everything mild. I picked her up in the early afternoon and we headed to one of our local favorites for something to eat and a cocktail. The restaurant was peaceful for the most part, after which we came here and watched a bit of the gangsters so I could point out some details. This morning everything runs later due to the schedule. I'll have more time before the morning business, and lately I have been trying to push some of the routine to after lunch or so in order to spend the earlier hours clearing my head and making plans. I believe the morning and evening are my favorite parts of the weekday now. Much of the feeling is the kitchen, of all things, with the remainder of my comfort being defined by hiding myself behind closed doors along with a lack of other people. Voices again... Grating me like a lemon peel. It's bad, yet somehow not quite as annoying as I had thought after all these weeks due to my looking forward to all the time alone. And don't think of the voices on the television, either. They are my friends and family. I need those voices, but in person? Not good, and becoming worse day by day. I am getting to the point of needing to be left out of everything. I do not wish to be asked any questions, nor do I feel like inquiring anything of other people. This morning I can already see that in a little while when the house is under my control, those feelings will be satiated for hours. Control over everything except the one aspect of life with which there can be none, so I am eliminating it a little at a time. Let's go back to the incident in which someone trivialized and demeaned my dream of a machine. I do not believe I can effectively describe my feelings on the subject, meaning another person will see what they read and then draw whatever conclusion seems appropriate. Well, when it comes to a subject which has a dramatic effect upon my life and the way I see the world, making fun of the words or belittling my feelings is going to result in very bad behavior on my part. I simply cannot have that, especially now. I am still angry over the beginning of such a situation and it took place weeks ago. I think about it each morning when I see Cindy or Maja or Ruslana or any image related to what I went to great lengths in describing for the benefit of anyone reading. The bottom line is this: One more person behaving in a similar manner regarding my dreams or needs will end with my destroying them one way or another. I can be very hurtful and then ice cold, so don't push me into such a position. I do not care what happens to other people, and nothing anyone can say or do will change that. Period. Change making changes... Still. I know I've said it before, but this morning could not be more rewarding so far. Just what I needed, honestly. I'll have to go a touch further with the work in order to feel good when the evening arrives. I have a few things in mind for later this morning. No problem there. Being pissed off as a result of a person commenting upon my site content is partly my fault, though I still believe it is dead wrong. I put the words out there in the world. I did it, and at the prompting of no one else. That means if I am not open to interpretation or criticism, I'll have to keep everything hidden away. Eyes equal brains and together mean thinking about what is seen. No eyes equals no possibility. If I am truly disabled in some minor way (not surprising because I was almost handed the opportunity to play an enormous and life-changing game of 'keep away' with the whole world), I'll back off and leave people alone. Here, anyway. If not, the crap will continue. Sometimes I actually enjoy when a person takes issue with me. One less voice in the world and one less pair of ears connected to a fucking brain, malfunctioning or otherwise. I just don't give a shit. I'll push and that will be that. But as I said, disabled or otherwise not functioning as I could be? Everyone will be left the hell alone. Sometimes I think this whole endeavor was a bad idea, mostly since the middle of zero three when I began the gray italic commentary. Look what that became. Heh. Not funny. Less than an hour ago I saw one of the scenes I wish had been edited out of this episode. Nothing bad or violent, just the appearance of too much for me. Oh, don't fucking get me started on the beauty or skin, because the lines just do not get much better or more appealing. The shot is too much and I am sensitive to some of what comes across the screen these days. And when I see her, problems begin to form beyond my ability to control them. I still stare, though. She is a large part of Arina, so part of me will always have to see. Plus, the role was played by choice. That means quite a bit, honestly. The lines were there naturally at the time and way back fourteen years ago when this aired as new, I did not consider the importance of what I was seeing as I do these days. I cannot believe the way she looks, though. After all this time and so many images both here and on the screen, plus all those fucking damaging sightings out in the world, she is still the most stirring appearance. A large part of Arina. Conglomeration. Something I can't describe. Thank Christ I do not have to see such a shot again for roughly eighty-five hours. Ah... Less than half an hour before I must get into the morning stuff. And then half an hour afterward is my own time and space for the bulk of this day. I have a few ideas, some things which must be completed, and the dreams of what I would like to be doing all rolled up together right now. That will change. My friends up there can keep me occupied. They never change, meaning they will never turn on me. Ever. Nor the other ones in the ships. They will always be the same. Just like a machine. There you go. I recall sitting at the dining table in our house. The Midwest. Warm, humid, and quite uncomfortable sometimes due to my having been so acclimated to the humidity here for decades. I had the box fans going and keeping air circulating around as best I could, lots of ice to keep my drinks cool (almost no booze back then) and always there was a periodical or three lying around full of yachts. I sat there almost completely broke for the entire summer and dreamed of places I would never see. Air conditioning was at the top of my list all the time because of so many trips around the desert and Southwest while growing up. My parents wanted comfort in the car as we explored. That was something I never really thought about until I had none. Not even my beloved truck had the air. The yachts did. All of them. And they could sail wherever might be agreeable. God damn it she is so far beyond beautiful that I damned-near need to invent my own fucking language just to get the point across. Anyway, I sat there and dreamed of a lifestyle which could never come to pass. I did not even brush up against anything close until the third race in ninety-four. My dad flew me home for a couple of weeks so we could attend the race in Nevada. One of the other drivers was a descendant of a person who decades ago invented a product which is still in mainstream use. The man was living off a trust fund set up for the children and handed down through three generations. He was a tad older than me and a bit flamboyant, but very generous and personable. I was able to glimpse into the lifestyle he enjoyed with his wife and friends, albeit for a short period one day. I was invited to sit in is car and listen to music as it was staged and awaiting the start of the race. That just happened to be my dream car (which I gained and subsequently lost many years later) and the first time I'd been inside one. His life was very far removed from mine, although being with my parents meant comfort and some enjoyment at each step. The gradient became starkly illuminated upon arriving home in the Midwest after that trip. Jesus fuck her eyes are huge. Returning to my tiny, mundane existence after seeing the other side for a little while did nothing good for me. Some would take the experience and begin to formulate ways of gaining in life and make things happen while others might feel defeated. Well, I was the latter despite not even reaching thirty years of age by that point. Not good. I was already beginning to feel the weight of things yet could not find the will or drive to make any changes. I bounced from one place to the next and sought the exact same devices I have all around me on a daily basis: Anything providing comfort. We are heading someplace bad with this line of thinking, and for good reason. Arina is not only the summation of a ton of beauty throughout space and time, she is also a fictional representation of something I so badly need but never took a step toward. No, not a mechanical woman, I am speaking of any reward. I just sat here. Oh, I also sat THERE and over THERE and then THERE. Now I am sitting HERE. There is nary a difference. This is bad. I never did anything and the inside of me is being chewed a little more each day. The race was not a negative, but it could have been a catalyst. Nope. Arina is the end-all be-all of everything I am lacking. The morning business is out of the way. I am alone and left to whatever devices have the capability of moving me along the arrow of time and through this day. There are already a couple of items on my mental list over and above the usual. Fourth show on the television, tiny bit of coffee left. Cindy is all up and down this entry and I don't care if anyone likes it or not. I really don't. I see her as a symbol now. I'd put more of Jamie here but she will not help matters nor will I react well to staring as I edit and work within the content. Her eyes are literally the world, her smile the sunshine. I'll have to think about the idea of ever including her likeness within the confines of this site. Wow is the house nice and quiet now. I always need this in the morning -- all of the time, actually, but I cannot change anything for reasons I will not list here -- and by the time the early chores are out of the way I will admit my mind is eased. I feel that way now and intend to move forward with the idea of pushing the routine out a little bit as opposed to the usual. Just like last night, the prospect of working in the kitchen today is warming me from the inside. I know not why that room has become so important, although the television and my friends following along while I work is a good portion of the feeling. The rest? I don't know. I've been enjoying preparing food and cleaning more than years ago. Once again I am at the point of being in complete control over every aspect of the house, meaning I will venture in there with whatever seems best in the background and take care of things with that familiar warmth all around. For some reason I keep equating the coziness of this house (mostly the kitchen) with the period of the trailer two decades ago. The space was small, yet very comfortable, and felt nice and secure despite being a towable rather than a house. The kitchen was wide open to the rear salon which made for a perfect space in which to prepare food or other work while enjoying the television, plus those were the days of the LD and all that wonder as it related to the second series and my increasing love for the genre. I spent much time in that trailer alone and embraced every second of as much comfort as I could find. Once again, the past has been attached to the present. Few reasons, but the same feelings. And here comes the sunshine a little at a time. We ordered the trailer during the summer before that huge tragedy in New York which I will not comment upon. By the time we took delivery and moved in, the event had taken place and I felt very concerned for our safety and security. Soon after, we acquired the truck just in case the shit hit the fan and we had to get the hell out. That never happened, of course, yet the entire time we lived in that small home I never completely relaxed about being there. The comfort inside was constantly tempered by some measure of worry over the state of the world, and with good reason. Still, I felt best while home alone and within the fold of my devices, just as I do now. Very interesting, to say the least. Day in and day out, just behind my eyes and whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere, Arina is ever forming into something both necessary and destructive. I don't know what to do and seem to be drawn toward sitting back and allowing it to happen. Look at Cindy again. Do you see the symmetry? It's wrong and beautiful. Partially artificial, right? Doesn't matter. The finished product points toward said artificiality and drives me right into a tiny space where only Arina and I reside. The combination of everything. All of me. I will not explain this to another human being, no matter what that person represents or means to me. Less words mean less risk. Closed mouth. Put yourself to the ground, please. Think of the forest as a massive shift in personality and attitude, born of self-protection and years of dissatisfaction with too many parts of life to list. Some are my doing and some external, yet all of them have become a compass pointer with a very negative destination. Arina is the only representation of my experiences in every location, each place of work throughout decades, and a summation of millions of bits of desire. The comfort inherent in considering her is overwhelming and impossible otherwise, meaning impossible overall. Does that make sense? I don't care. If she is waiting in the forest and I eventually find my life all the way inside, people are not going to like me, nor will they be able to relate or understand anything I do. I'll have to get away from this and work on the routine soon. Coffee gone for the day. Fourth show. Put yourself to the ground. 'Root yourself to the ground.' 'Word to the wise...' Yeah, ok, but what about addressing the unwise? Glimpsing that life was not good and felt worse upon returning home. Not my home in California, the other one in the Midwest. California was a life with my parents and they embraced all of the comforts of home as much as possible, whereas the Midwest was slender. The comforts were few so I had to concentrate and appreciate each second. The yacht dreams did not help, either. I saw myself out there on Lake Huron just away from the coast and watching the world of the others from a distance, always loving the idea of separation from everything tedious and uncomfortable. I was in no position to do anything. The school accomplishments felt very good, along with my application to the local college and the surprising invite into their coveted honors program. A Pell grant meant I could have secured any number of futures, but I relented to the loss of ambition and failed to step in any direction other than the rear. The life I saw in Nevada was on a road in front of me. I turned left and let the grant and the future fade into the background. The only change on my horizon was slicing off a relationship and driving back to California, afterward sliding backward into the previous working environment as if I had never left. The entire downtrodden and sordid affair is forever stored within Arina's magical, mechanical brain, never to be forgotten. And here I sit two and a half decades later, a product of my own undoing. I have the kitchen. Marvelous. Might be time for a cocktail. Eh... Maybe not. The routine still awaits but I am trying to push the time, lest I run out of reasons by early afternoon. That type of feeling can be quite uncomfortable and disheartening. I have no wish to ruin my day by embracing the lazy aspects of being home. Arina. All those other names which mean something to me for one reason or another are now one. The original representative name was Jaime, complete with glossy photos I never should have shot or printed. Now? I don't know what to think about the whole thing. I really went off the deep end with that name after creating the server in the fiction, and then something happened as I gazed upon half her face. I still feel much in my heart for those days (and her), yet the natural progression of my mind has built a highway from which I can no longer exit. Not like the left turn in the Midwest, anyway. This is not the same at all. I have been compacted and forcefully shoved into whatever Arina has become. The future is bleak. Again I said I was going to get into the work but here I am still wallowing and trying to type. Getting bored? Look at the sixteen images of Cindy's never-ending thrall upon the senses. And... Pause. The routine is finished at just after twelve. I am pondering ordering a pizza so I can drown into the comfort of one of my favorite foods. I don't know. Halfway through a drink, too. We're in the sixth season now, meaning Jamie is all over the fucking place with big eyes and very little makeup. As I said to that girl in Macy's so many years ago as we exited the store through the beauty department, some do not need any makeup at all. She turned and smiled, according to my partner walking behind me toward the doors. Jamie is like that. Her character, anyway. Soon will be the scene which was the first to bring me to my knees. Hmm... Taking into account where I am in the timeline right now, she will probably grace the screen during that sequence by Thursday. Today is Tuesday. Some time for thinking about my reaction to seeing her address her mother for the millionth time. I cannot say enough, and what I have already said does not even scratch the surface. Believe it. She moved me into a place unrecoverable and impossible to understand... Similar to any attempts in calculating the woman all down this entry. I just don't get it. An unrecoverable error? That is computer lingo. I don't know what to do now. If I get the pizza, it means a heavy lunch and I will probably be off the wagon for most of the day. I may also end up just sitting here rudderless. Ugh. On the other hand, there have been occasions in which I maintained the mindset of moving around for my own good, and that leads to more production and then a very lazy evening. Maybe that's better. Or, I can make something for lunch (there is plenty) and work in the garage for a little while before settling in for the later hours. I just don't know. Holy Jesus God in a fucking barrel of beauty, the woman is stirring beyond comprehension. I'll try to avoid heading toward the flip side. The caring is shrinking as quickly as my options in life. Yesterday I tried to convey my feelings for James and his performance as an actor in this series. Nothing can be enough. There is just no end to the level of respect and appreciation I have for what he accomplished, and much of it was on his own (I may begin to capitalize any pronouns referring to James just as I did for the Raven, believe it or not. He is deep in my heart), as I have read. He took the reins and forced the character to bow to his wishes and talent, and the result was one of the most coveted roles in the history of filmed entertainment. Again... I have not the words to effectively broadcast my feelings about what he did, God rest his soul. Damn it. I would have given the rest of my life in exchange for a few minutes of his ear and a handshake. Maybe I need to seek someone who feels as I. Eh... Unlikely given my time frame. After twelve now and Arina is fading from where she was a little while ago before I cleaned the kitchen. That is not to say her importance is changing, just my mood. Arina will always be whatever I make her, meaning the feelings are ever-growing, but sometimes I have to put her aside or I cannot function as a human being. Anything other people count on needs to be addressed. My needs come later... For now. The forest can change that. Ah... Fiona and that short exchange with James. Her face is amazing and perfect for the role. She displays more emotion in a matter of seconds than some actors do in a lifetime. I love it. Little tidbits like her facial expressions are the reason I rarely veer from the six programs I frequently watch. I need all of them, and that is to say that at times I actually need the media more than real people. Yep... I am becoming something otherworldly and nearly impossible to explain. Arina would love everything I love because she has been crafted from my deviant psyche. Other people need not ever agree with anything I believe because she would make up for all of it. That woman is the universe in my head. I still haven't budged from the sofa because I cannot make up my mind with regard to lunch. Maybe I'll shave and shower and then head out to a cozy restaurant to sidle up to the bar and indulge. Er... Maybe not. I've already had one cocktail and that is the limit before six in the evening. I just don't know what to do. '...Not necessarily with the intercession of liturgy or any human agent.' Jesus, that's a mouthful. Love. It. The Lord has been on my mind for months, on and off. I have been on the underside of religion for so long that in a recent entry I referred to any faith as 'voodoo'. Now I don't feel very good about my words, although many people slip and fall when something dramatic takes place to question their otherwise unwavering beliefs. I am no different, except for the fact that my attendance in any house of God has been barely scarce since the mid-nineties, and even then I was pretty full of shit and only going through the motions to placate others. Wrong or not, that is what I did in order to fit the times. And now a statement which may throw some completely off my long-winded track: Faith may be the only way for me to alleviate the impossibilities and embrace a path which can show me the real light. Arina may not be the real light, not even for myself. The truth is I do not know what she is or will become, however I have sensed a strong possibility that she represents destruction. Not good. The major scrape is the idea that I would have to learn about sin and redemption, two subjects and facets of life that can be more ambiguous and difficult than anything else in existence. My language alone could be cause for flames. Heh. I am not stupid. I know what I have done. Funny I should mention 'flames', as those of the bad place are a part of the equation. I squashed the pizza idea and had chicken salad instead. Leftovers with toast. Now that my appetite has been diminished, I avoided the temptation to order anything and likely saved a chunk of money. Heh. All I have to do is eat and it all goes away. This has been happening more often lately. The liquid ant bait has been very effective in the backyard and I just added one in the front after seeing a little highway in development from one side of the driveway to the green can. Hopefully it will do the job. Those products are very highly rated and do not affect the lives of spiders or bees, both of which are beneficial to the yard. The other ones? Fuck them. Too long have I fought invasions and tried to understand their behavior. Now they can all go to hell. I don't care. This new stuff is very inexpensive and so far doing the job nicely. All those possibilities back then... I was blind to the future. Five occasions had me in college and not a one turned into anything solid. I just moved along hoping to learn something and enjoy the experience while leaving the longer term goals wide open. Well, that did not help me. Oh sure, I have a ton of knowledge both from school and all those varying jobs throughout the years, yet very little actually comes in handy aside from whatever I can do around the house. I suppose the largest gain was my ability to think through problems and troubleshoot with a clear head. I've repaired many household appliances and advanced the function and appearance of the garage, however the larger concern -- that of an enjoyable and fulfilling career -- never came to pass. My longest stint with the space program had promise but I did not look at the bigger picture. I had been blinded by comfort and beauty. Sound familiar? I am sitting here right now as both the result and example of still being at the mercy of too much. Arina. Do you see? The dream, fantasy, whatever the fuck it is has beat me down and I am bereft of ambition. The devices around the house -- lights, fan, garage door control, and colored displays in the garage -- are all controlled by my phone or voice because they are fun to use and I can run many functions around me while sitting right here on my fucking ass. Another indication that my head is very far from where it once resided. The wide-open nature of the future was right in front of my face every day, yet so many years later it looks vastly different. The glow is the first time period to come to mind these days while considering from where I came. I've described some of it. Going further is unnecessary. The fact is the possibilities burned away with time. Cristin's face is one of those holding all the cards. I recall seeing her in another movie and I was struck by the big eyes (yes, those again), afterward noticing her in this series with so much beauty wrapped up in a tiny package that I had to know more. I researched and amassed images which showcased her brown eyes, leaving me to wonder if that old line about each actor sharing similarities with another was actually true. I don't know anymore, but her face still sends me flying. She has the big, dark eyes combined with whatever that lower facial structure is, rather like Lacey except not quite as pronounced. The commercial from last year with the girl advertising a laundry item was on the other side of the facial thingy. Much more pronounced. I cannot even begin to describe what it is. The fact is Cristin was amazing at the time. Very thin, but amazing nonetheless. And here we go with the big Jamie eyes again. Going to be on and off for well over a dozen episodes. Ugh. God do I ever love her. The rest of this day may hold nothing. I don't know if I have the will to take care of anything else after having lunch and a drink. Damn. Pause again. Despite the sinking feeling that I might end up a pile on the sofa, I pulled myself out of it and did some chores. Sheets changed and laundry going, aerator on the bathroom sink is clean and rebuilt, and I reattached two halves of a photo for her grandmother that had been torn. I also noticed the highway from the lawn leading the ants to our green can had increased to a federal interstate, so one more liquid bait container is now sitting at their starting point. In just half an hour, the little assholes are all over it. They are still on and inside the green can, but that will come to an end once the bait makes its way into the colony below ground. No problem there. I am overjoyed that I snapped out of the dead mood and took care of some business. I may still do a bit more but needed to research passport renewal on the Internet, so here I am for a little while. Arina has been floating within and drove me to begin a project of taking notes on the most significant and stirring sections of the show when Jamie's eyes look amazing. All of it is in the sixth season. I believe at least two episodes are best. All in all, this afternoon has turned on its ear, thank the maker. The evening is close, like less than an hour away. I am looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the time and dinner preparations with an accomplished feeling inside. That is always good. I have chicken marinating and intend to grill it in a few hours. I'll have to switch shows very soon to change the atmosphere over to evening mode. I really went on about a lack of ambition and all of the wasted time in the past. The truth is those thoughts can cripple me at present. There are so many old clichés and words of wisdom which have been handed down through generations that I nearly cringe at the realization that I have become a walking, talking representation of the entire mess. Clichés are clichés for a reason, being retreaded and rolled over like pavement on the world's busiest highway. I don't like them, yet cannot deny the inherent power in those older generations living through what they did and then attempting to instill wisdom into the young people. I have no children, so things such as wise words and lessons rarely emanate from my maw. No one needs to hear more of it anyway. The fact that my head was driven to go over such crap means I am dwelling. I can't fucking help it. Arina has become such an overpowering realization that the image simply will not fade for any reason. No matter how good I may feel about any series of events, she will always be right there behind my tired eyes. Considering all of the avenues I've either passed or disregarded is difficult now. I feel I've gone nowhere in half a century. Not good by any stretch of the word. 163. And then the other part of her which I hesitate to bring here. This is already bad enough and adding another part of life about which I can do exactly nothing is probably not a good idea. Hmm... Maybe I'll leave it. My first cup of coffee and there went one of the shots which makes me fall down. More are on the way, but the scene in question shows off so much in a matter of seconds that I still can't believe it. All of the words and gushing and everything else barely gleans the depth of this. Throughout the last year -- even just half that time since I went off the deep end like a teenager with a crush -- the entire image of her has consumed my being each time one of those scenes plays out up there. And even though the television in the kitchen is always on when I'm working in there, as soon as I know there is going to be a protracted shot of her big, dark eyes, I dash to the living room to see her on the larger screen. I don't know why this is so powerful. Perhaps something about her older appearance struck me unexpectedly and I have not recovered. I honestly did not feel so much several years ago. At least I recall the first image which caused me to pay attention. That came and went yesterday. All down this entry you can see Cindy, one of the most beautiful, photographed models on this earth, yet my brain continues to drift toward another. Arina? No... But a part of her. And remember, she is not a woman. Think about that. What did I always say years ago? What is Satan? That's right... A frame of reference. God cannot exist without the adversary. Hence, Arina is a frame of reference. She cannot exist without all these holes in me. Arina should have Jamie's eyes but mostly I think she looks more like Cindy. Maybe both. And? Maybe it does not matter in the least. Arina is what I make her. Period. Eh... Maybe I cannot think clearly enough about her to explain. The fact is the paragraph up there gushed even more than anything on the page because I saw that shot again. Plus, this entry has been created over enough time to cover almost the entire series, and I know it for sure because the long scene between her and Edie is mentioned toward the top of the page. That discussion between the two characters is nine episodes from now, meaning I have gone through seventy-seven hours of this program in less than nine days. What the fuck is that? Am I going around and around for only two reasons, or is there something more? I don't know. My love for one character is quite a draw, but there has to be something else, like the comfort I first noticed way back years ago while watching the second show (laserdiscs, believe it or not). It's possible that I have become so familiar (there is that word again) with the story and characters that I may need them in my life, just like the five series' which are often in the background. I could be dependent upon the familiarity. Dependent. I know them. KNOW them. Not good. I love a fictional character. Also not good. Whatever. Who cares? I'll have to keep this pointed toward the title and what that name means. She has been in my head for so long -- differing names over the years, of course, as well as appearance -- that the very idea has become second nature. I wouldn't even begin to know how to live any other way. All of it... Embedded as a part of me. In my very cells. That is why I decided to craft this long essay and try to convey how and why this woman is befitting my state of mind along with the fact that she changes as I do. Each day which passes adds a little something to the pile, she alters her stance as representing everything missing in my universe, and then the whole thing starts again the following morning. Every day. I had to place Arina here and distinguish her from any other artificial woman or symbol ever described on this site. Even Jaime the fictional, mechanical server/lover/whatever that I gushed about in those long stories and felt I could not be happy without. Now? She is on the back burner due to the importance of understanding myself and working through how I became the person sitting here right now. Arina is all of it, as I have said. That is why she will always be unattainable. Because of all my dreams and wishes. I see John Costelloe up there on the screen right now. He was fantastic. Voice, eyes, appearance, and demeanor as the character. All excellent. A few weeks ago I sought other work John may have done before or since, instead learning that he took his own life not long after this episode was shot. Unbelievable, but one never knows. There she is again, sans makeup. The eye treatment does not make her eyes larger. They are already amazing, sad or otherwise. I'm going to have to do something different today. I don't know of what that may be, just the feeling that I cannot continue to repeat things. I need a change. If Arina is going to follow me at every step, perhaps the knowledge that I have not changed and am suffering as a result can shove an idea into my head. I guess I'll have to push this morning. This is not a work day for her, meaning I will not have the house to myself until maybe an hour before noon, but that is also a good thing. It means I can push the routine out a few hours instead of having everything finished too early and losing my way. I'm certain Arina would agree. Oh, I forgot... Not real. Nothing good is real. "Compared with the everyday reality of sex and emotion, our fantasies of gratification are pompous and solemn in the extreme. For desire is like Christmas: It always promises more than it delivers." -- Lee Siegel God damn it there she is again. I forgot about this scene. Crap anyway. Huge eyes. Have I mentioned that? I may have to cut this off soon. The points made are beginning to run together and I'll lose my way. I don't even know where everything began. There is always some sort of finality at the end of each entry but right now I am at a loss as to a close. Arina was the thing. She did not appear until pretty far into the text, yet her foothold now is powerful and permanent. The other side of the coin is where do I go from here? Knowing is often the battle, but now feels as an infantile beginning. There may be nothing I can do anymore. More of the same is all that will follow. Well, more images, too."
July 22nd, 2021 6:55am pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
Arina
read ( words)
"Nothing is going to work no matter what I attempt or surmise. Nothing. I already know. Relegated by both my own limitations and the pressure from outside. Time and circumstance. 176. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The eyes again. I wish I could live in there. No joy. My receiver arrived yesterday and I swapped it with the old one very quickly after unboxing. I had been looking forward to the functionality and extensive feature set for some time before actually seeing the thing right there on my bench. The type I chose is thirty years old and was all over my head during the mid-glow. The brand in question was breaking ground in so many areas at that time that my head spun whenever looking around the electronics stores. I don't recall the specific model of this one, but it was there. The display barely works and is one of the best features. I did some research and learned that there are a few weak components on the main board which I can replace easily. Sometimes the troubleshooting background comes in handy, although I rarely am able to use the ingenuity. I'll open up the machine later this morning and see what I can find. Hopefully everything is straightforward. The schematics and board layout diagrams are plenty clear. Months ago I wrote about feeling a tremendous loss over the glow and how that period compares to everything else since. Well, the imagery still stirs me. Unpacking the receiver yesterday brought that period back to the forefront and I gazed at the labeling, layout and features all over the front panel of my new toy which almost immediately transported me back in time. There was no way I could afford something so sophisticated back then, and now technology has advanced so much that they are nearly obsolete. Very affordable if a person has the inclination to babysit the equipment. Nothing made these days has the same level of intrigue and warmth. All of the latest technology is cold. That was one of the most exciting facets of the glow... Technology was still new and exciting, whereas now nothing seems to blow my skirt up. I was constantly looking forward to what may come next. Well, all that has passed into history and the new has become the boring. Such an idea means the glow is appearing that much better now. I really did not need anything piled atop my latest depression, but the receiver brought it all back. If I get pissed off, I'll build an entire system from that era and shoot images of it just to make others wonder. All that stuff is still deep in my heart. We are just two weeks into summer and the weather is becoming cooler each day. Crazy. My mood lately seems to match the gray outside. Sometimes I like it and other times I don't, but no one controls the weather anyway. Hopefully this doesn't curtail my chances of doing a little repair later. And the house is not mine today. Whatever. I can work with it. Fantasy taking shape. I opened the receiver case and found that indeed there is a fried resistor which lends to the main display. I believe it was a common problem, too, because there is information all over the net on how to repair. The component is undersized with regard to current, meaning over time it was destined to fail. I already ordered a replacement to arrive tomorrow. I also learned of how to connect the external equalizer, so upon installing the new resistor I can get everything connected. That leaves but one hurdle which is the subwoofer. One step at a time. Many would probably figure that repairing a recent purchase is no good, but such is the nature of electronics of that age. The character still far outweighs issues. For me, it is part audio and part nostalgia. The glow... Ever growing and creating the worst gradient imaginable. Back then I was not focused upon any one technology. The most likely direction was toward the televisions due to how amazingly the features were developing. Everything, though. All the way back to the shortwave radio revolution a few years earlier. I dreamed of the units and the way they miniaturized everything. Cut back to the glow and technology was flying high. The stores (not that big one which recently shuttered), the huge mall with many different places offering whatever was selling well at the time, and the walks through those hallways as my eyes darted left to right. Right down to the telephone I purchased for my parents. The receiver out there sitting on my work bench in pieces is a sharp representation of those years. I needed it, and even the prior unit which drove all the speakers well was just fine. I was not in need of a replacement. Dreaming of the glow drove me to find something which could remind me of that time each day. Good or bad, I did it. And I will go further if the opportunity arises. Drowning into anything which brings a smile is more important than ever. 175. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Ah... Yesterday. Wipe it right the hell off the calendar. Two long movies and a bunch of wasted time, really. The only upside is the diagnosis and part identification of the receiver. I have the old one reconnected temporarily. Hopefully the part will arrive early today rather than later so I can have it up and running while still enjoying the alone hours. The subwoofer issue is going to take some time. I may do an end-around and add a huge preamplifier to the chain for no good reason other than another huge display and a reliable, proper subwoofer output. These days I need the smile to keep my head up.
And speaking of head up... The two films have not been viewed by me for several years. I recall them being a part of the secondary glow, somewhat. We did not run to the theatre when they premiered, so watching at home on my new-ish television was the choice. My nephew and I used to have a similar crush on one of the stars, making the film (especially the second in line) more enjoyable when he was visiting. The image looked amazing, too, thanks to the leap in technology. That period is right behind the glowing years. Between those times, the work and my buddy were what kept me going. That was also when the technology was growing by leaps and bounds. My dad was trying to build a home theatre system and required my help in choosing components. The films came later. The period of time in question was fairly short. Less than a year and a half, honestly. Lots of changes came quickly and on the heels of each other shortly after my alone time and spending the evenings and weekends with my parents. The audio and video soon leaped from their living room to the car, meaning my buddy and I were constantly trying to improve the sound in his car and I had been angling to get some of Sony's mobile technology into mine. The latter included some amazing gear for replicating the home entertainment system in my vehicle. Between trips to the electronics retailers and magazine articles, my head was awash with options. Maybe I will embrace the big preamp and other items and end up with a stack. Why not? And it looks like today may be the repeat of that fateful episode featuring a long conversation which originally led me to the eyes. I'll be staring again because I am a pathetic basket case when it comes to her face. I am far too weak to do what is best for myself anymore. I have to see. Afterward? Dreaming, falling, whatever. I don't fucking care anymore. I'll gaze again because I have to. God damn it, there she is. Big, beautiful eyes floating in a world I have tried over and over to drown within, but to no avail. Impossible, like the other world. And I was in that one two days ago. Trying, anyway. This one is different, though. Very different. And it's not just her eyes, either. It's the entire idea of being within the fold of the industry combined with needing comfort of a type otherwise unavailable. Hmm... That is not far from 'unreal', a term which applies to everything toward which I have run for a fucking year. Her eyes are just one facet of yet another fucking geometric shape I cannot avoid. This whole season -- all of nine episodes -- is going to cripple me. After? Back to the beginning for the fifth time in recent memory, just to do it all over again because of whatever snapped inside me. Oh, those windows. Maybe my life would be improved had I never seen them. Wasn't I speaking about audio? I cannot believe how much the equipment brings me back to better times. Perhaps the idea of building a system out there for nostalgia is both good and bad... Mostly good. The memories are positive and seeing everything in operation could be good for my mood. Right now I don't know. I will say that digging into the receiver with repair in mind has brought back my years of troubleshooting equipment when I worked for my parents, and when combined with dreams of all that technology on display during the glow, the result is heartwarming. I guess I'll keep going and see where this leads. Cindy (pictured) is now 'Arina'. Don't ask. Another impossibility, and one I am trying to combine with the eyes. The whole shitaree is rolled up into a few episodes of this program, as well. She is Thracian, too. Again... Don't fucking ask. The name will probably change soon anyway. By the end of this entry, Arina will have formed into something I both love and hate, but at least she will be fucking gorgeous. Hopefully the resistors will arrive at a decent hour today. I'm looking forward to seeing the big display lit nicely. I've always leaned toward visual information, hence twin analyzers between the receiver and equalizer. The whole thing should prove lovely. Hours to myself now. Most of the day. Afternoon and still no resistors. Plus, the face graced the screen a short time ago and sent me flying. I should just expect it because nothing will stop me from watching. The fact is she moved me more in the last year than ever before. Something happened there. Something. I can't help it anymore. Still watching. I laid it out in 'The Plateau of Strife' and feel even more strongly now, six months later. Believe it. The feelings will eventually be my undoing. Or, at least a part of it. 174. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? My parts arrived in good time and I installed the little guy, after which I had to leave the thing unplugged for a while so the voltages drained completely and reset all the microprocessors. After that? The big display works just fine. Oh, there are a few dim spots from age, but overall it looks really nice. On top of that small victory, I decided to use the receiver as a preamplifier and leave the HK to drive the speakers. The equalizer is still a bit of a mystery, so in the meantime I am using the one built into the receiver. Soon I will work that detail out and flatten one of them to avoid overdriving. The main idea is solid, though, no matter what happens with the equalizers. Between television and music, I now have better control and everything connected the way I wanted in the first place. If the HK hadn't been such a boring pain in the ass, the preamp would not have been necessary. Now that all three components are working properly, I can leave everything alone until the next big advance. Maybe later in the year.
Arina is coming together a little at a time. One part of her will be on the screen later. No, not here. The morning will move along and I'll be alone in less than an hour. Yesterday the work went fine and I did not feel that useless crap at all. Today I'll have to remain mindful of the time and do what I can. As usual, the very idea of hours alone feels wonderful. Hopefully that feeling does not change later today. Those old fears began to return this morning so I switched the media to an old movie from just prior to the glow. None of those problems existed back then. They honestly did not show up until much later, although my insides were screwed up despite the wondrous nature of the world. I can work with it all today because my space means control and comfort. Right now the time ahead seems wide open to my needs. The mornings do not always come across as such, however, because my brain will often manufacture shit out of thin air. Not today, thank the maker. I believe the media system yesterday sort of jump started my brain in the direction of organization like weeks ago. We shall see forsooth. That episode with the protracted discussion and eyes aired in the afternoon, and just before I went out to the garage and repaired the new receiver. The scene came and went, I spun myself into a frothy mess, and then the afternoon wore on. No harm done in the short term. Arina will be the deciding factor. She is growing in importance and the fantasy equally so. I don't know what is going to happen with that stuff, but honestly do not see a good outcome. We have to drive to the city today like last week. A disc player needs to be hooked up or something, and apparently I am the only person who can do it. Splendid. The upside is the feeling of arriving home again later and relaxing. Last time? I was overjoyed to get back here and hide behind the door. Today will be no different. Until then, I have time to get my things in order for the evening. I just spent a decent portion of time seeking images of higher quality for an upcoming entry (which no one will see anyway, but I have to like them and feel they fit the theme), most of which are you-know-who. I actually located one in which she is quite a bit older (likely the last five years or so) and looks more natural than the modeling images. Honestly? I prefer stills captured from the digital video of the show over those shot for magazines or interviews. The character is the thing, unlike some other figures. And that brings something to mind... Someone effectively trivialized my long-winded description of Jaime and all I feel for such a dream. That is not very nice, however I am certain that person did not realize the gravity and danger in taking something absolutely dire to my mental stability and making cold comments. Well, all the text (or nearly all) about that name is now absent from the site, and the next time someone takes issue with my feelings on the subject... Well, my reaction will not be good. The machine came to this space for damned good reason, and I cannot have people thinking it is just a silly fetish. I am talking about my ability to cope, for fuck's sake, and if you don't agree? That is fine. Everyone is entitled to whatever they may think or feel. Just do not express it to me. Ever. Ok, enough of that. Wow, was she ever thin at the beginning. I realize nearly two years passed between the pilot production and the second episode actually airing, but just... Wow. Eating disorder, too. The girl had her share of troubles. Thank Christ she recovered. The ride today may be a chore and it may not. Last time I was very worried and full of anxiety, yet in the end everything went fine. Perhaps focusing upon the previous trip will help calm me this morning. The bottom line is I need to work with the audio/video again and then we will leave. Not a big deal in the grand scheme. Every time I leave the house to do something, the joy in arriving home again ends up outweighing the difficulty. Focus. I'll be fine. This morning? I cannot WAIT to be back here safe and sound after that crap. All the old content is gone now. Only I have access because I no longer want anyone seeing this. Just a few months of archived entries remain. As soon as I feel enough time has passed for readers to be caught up, just one title will be here. Arina is the name for the time being. 173. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Out of the house yesterday for three different operations. The city drive and subsequent work on her television went ok, although she insisted we have cake and coffee afterward. That was rather goofy and uncomfortable after having had no lunch. We dashed out eventually and made tracks home. And then the goodbye gathering for the gentleman who stored his motorcycle here for almost a year... At a brewery. Some good and some not so good, the worst being most of the younger people spending time and appearing bright-eyed and hopeful. That is perfectly fine for them, I just don't need to be near that sort of thing anymore. After a little while we left for home a second time and then decided dinner was not going to be cooked by us. Back out the door to a local restaurant which served an excellent meal, yet somehow the occasion was very sad. The owners are aging and seeing such a fact breaks my heart. Each stop yesterday displayed its own difficulty and at least one reason I have created such a comfortable world within this house. Yes, I needed to see the couple before they move back east in a little over a week, but honestly we could have stopped in for just a moment rather than visiting for more than an hour. I just didn't think a short visit would have been polite, plus when he greeted me I could see the joy in our being there. Almost worthwhile. The city was not too bad, really, other than feeling forced to be patient.
The restaurant took the cake, however. That was a toughie. Seeing them is nice but carries that underlying thought that they are not going to be operating that restaurant for much longer. Our server was really sweet and attentive which helped maintain the nice, calm atmosphere. Upon returning home, all three destinations began to work on my head even more than at the time and I ended up pretty damned tired of thinking. This day could not have come at a better point in the week. Thinking more and more about Arina and what she may mean in the coming weeks. I still don't know. Looking at Cindy's images sometimes pushes me to think that what goes on inside during certain times is driven by parts of my psyche I do not wish to acknowledge. I really don't, although the cryptic nature of some entries means I can generally spew whatever goes on inside without worry of backlash. I've done it before, too. Plenty. There is much more than meets the eye (ear), and this goes all the way back to the car salesperson. It really does, and then a few other occasions between her and the one at the pool, not to mention anything on television from one day to the next. Arina is growing into a representation of everything all rolled up and tied with a bow. Everything from the car dealership to the Realtor, and from Maggie to the one at the pool, then on to those images down south and heading straight for a chef I see from time to time. Toss in the fictional characters built from my own experiences and the resulting salad is a fucking mess. Arina is that salad. I need to keep her close and work out the details to effect change upon this life I am living. Cindy and the other one (Maja?) are about as aligned with the dreams as I can see right now, so here they (she) are (is). Whatever. Yesterday is still pushing on me. Problems, problems and more problems are pushing me to retract yet keep the knives at the ready. I have already pulled back quite a bit in the last week, with more coming each day. Look at Cindy's unreal makeup. Jesus, those artists know their stuff. I guess there is little point in my trying to understand some of the buried crap which began at the car dealership. A solution may not be forthcoming and brushes against one of the primary reasons for me avoiding anything psychological in school years ago... The unknown. It is not an exact science and lacks tons of clear answers. I was told such a discipline does not match my personality. No arguing that one. It just points toward the understanding of such issues over beauty and trying to learn of either the genesis or a coping method. So far, I have only learned there can be no shutting it off. There are long periods of flaring followed by some calm, after which I seem to write about it here and then experience tons of anxiety before finally giving up for a time. And then it happens again, usually after some kind of vision. And they will never go away. I can keep trying, but the effort is feeling more futile now than ever. Yesterday worked on my head until I fell off a cliff, and this morning is beginning to head in the same direction. I suppose the things I must accomplish each day are going to have to suffice for now. I am not educated in this stuff. Damn was Jamie ever thin in the first season, after the delay between pilot and second episode. By the time number five was shot? Too thin. The eating disorder. Thank Christ she recovered. I've heard people joking about the back-and-forth weight and appearance between seasons one and four, but I do not find any such things funny at all. She is a person above all other descriptors. Yes, I am head over heels for the character, but even before realizing such a fact I still felt compassion. Stick it. Don't get me started on the sixth season. Heh. Makes my heart hurt. This morning is very peaceful and quiet. Yesterday's trip to the city has facilitated an entire day without either of us needing to go anywhere. I still have my usual chores, though. Very enjoyable, those things. I'll have the show in the background (fourth), probably a small cocktail to go with the atmosphere, and then out to the garage to maximize storage space and garbage. After that I have a new flag pole and bracket to install. A little more work in the garage, too. The space is looking better, but more importantly it is very useful. We no longer have stacks of things here and there clogging up the works. I like to keep three areas functional, those being the laundry, space in front of the refrigerator and pantry, and the chest freezer. As long as everything is kept neat, we can access what is needed without issue. My work bench and table usually bear the brunt of too much crap out there, but at least I can work with it. Two days ago I pulled apart the old platform which used to live under my mattress. Some good wood was yielded, too. Very nice. I'll have to see if the material fits in the trash can this week. A little at a time can be tossed, so eventually everything will be gone. The wood may serve to create a small door in front of the water heater that will display another flag and hide my ladders. I will hinge the door, too. Almost time to transition into Sunday mode. Just for posterity: I know the problem. It is fully defined and will not go away. I am the product of societal influence and loss. I know what it is. Cannot spell it out, though. No labeling here, ever. 172. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I figured yesterday would be hit or miss because of all that time. I did go to the market for a few things and then went about the day at whatever pace seemed right. The new flag hardware is all installed and I made sure to maximize the garbage space. Other than those, not much was accomplished. Fifteen months have passed since I wrote (gushed) about the girl in the walnut commercial. I was just thinking about that because of the title and the fact that I've had the gangsters up there on my big television for weeks now. Jamie is not the reason, although her eyes do pull at me (I think I've made that clear). The title of the essay includes her name because that may have been the real beginning to my falling all over myself. Just in the last few months have the feelings REALLY expanded and have me bereft of solutions. There are always possible reasons, though, not the least of which is my penchant for dreaming of unattainable people and places. The walnut girl was a catalyst, just like those sisters at the pool. They were in the essay, too. Interesting that I slowed thinking of the thongs but now have been reminded of the walnut issue and everything it entailed. This could be bad, but at such a point in time and after all the shit I've written, 'bad' may not matter. I removed Jamie's name from the title. I think the walnut girl is a part of Arina. That is the feeling, anyway. Splendid. And there is another...
I won't go into it right now. Images of her are scarce and I'm not going to bang my head against the concrete scouring the Internet. I've done enough of that for a lifetime. The whole day is in front of me. Hours. And the routine is finished. I may go to the market soon. Gangsters. Everything here is going to be the same aside from the dreamy, ethereal woman/figure/whatever which now has another name. She is the point of this whole thing and all the rest of the words are coming out of desperation. That means I have little to say anymore, hence the end of the site last month. There is no reason to publish anything. In fact, I dressed up the index with a nice image representing a departure of sorts and aligned all the links on the navbar to point nowhere. People will not like it but I don't care. This was outlined in the last published entry a few weeks ago. If that was not clear enough, too bad. My place, this shit. Mine. Go build your own. I suppose heading to the store is fine. I need alcohol for the evening and I may pick up a few snacks just in case the down time this afternoon runs long. Something has to help. The hardware store is awaiting a return plus I may need a few things once I think about it. In four days I am to meet a guy to help with some work and I don't know how I feel about it. It's only supposed to be a day and a half, yet I am apprehensive anyway. Probably all this fucking time of being almost completely isolated has jaded me even more than I had thought months ago when there was a chance of working in the city, full time. Ugh. There had been nothing on the horizon for a long while and then this came up last week. I'll go and meet the guy Thursday, however I have no idea how I am going to react until the day of. I agreed just to make others happy, not me. My only comfort is here in this house. Nowhere else. And though work is work and not always designed to be enjoyable, I am still worried. 171. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? No gangsters yet. I had to get her out the door and needed something mellow in the background while working. Soon I will make the switch and head into my little world. Arina was on my mind both last night and again early this morning. A few days ago we watched an episode of the show in the City and I saw an amazing face. A facet, and a reminder of Arina and her ongoing transition from several different characters to the one I need. Arina. Yep. Add to that a boost in my finances this morning and the comfort level at home right now is good. Between the time and space for me to dream of what I can and the helpful nature of stability in the house, today may be a high point of sorts. Some days the very idea of being holed up in here alone and secure brings me a solace otherwise unavailable in the world. Arina will become a part of that. Soon the eyes will assist. Cindy, too. This day will not be a trial like the last. I already know. Little steps here and there along with some time for thinking about the larger picture. 171 equals fail. Italians all over the screen stabbing my heart endlessly. I used to be in that club. So, almost time to put this away and work around the house. That beautiful yet scary woman is in this episode looking like a million bucks which can slice a person to ribbons. Oy. Anyway, upon publishing, I will probably try to work in the kitchen for a little while and then meander out to the garage to go through shit from last Saturday. Between today and tomorrow I would like to have that space in order again. Well, today is a bit different. I began the process of removing our hedge along the house side of the driveway. Lots of work, that one. I'll have to go a little at a time to ensure there is room in the green can. I only went about two feet along the side and already the can is two-thirds full. It's going to take several weeks for the whole thing to be gone. Geez. I also did the usual housework and moved some more stuff around in the office to help keep it organized. Arina has been following along. Every time I pause for one reason or another she is right there, albeit incomplete. Following, always. Karina is just behind her and looking like Kana.
Kana handed me my cocktail and smiled, hair everywhere. I almost lost it. That was nearly eleven years ago and I can still see her face as if it was yesterday. Prior to seeing that Japanese beauty waddling around the casino, I had created a fictional woman with the same name who was one of four sisters and part of a story I was writing. That fell by the wayside but the four names stuck with me pretty well. When I turned and saw her dark skin, black hair and amazing, slender figure, I nearly lost the ability to speak. I asked if she was a hybrid, to which she responded with a resounding no. I complimented her gently and went on with my evening. Sometimes I can still see her because another woman all over the Internet resembles Kana enough to keep the image fairly clear. The model's name is Keilah. No meaning there, just appearance. Kana? She has become rolled up with the rest. Probably not a good thing. Karina was one of her sisters. Ugh, the work is two days from now and I am feeling a measure of worry. Not too much anxiety (not physical), just worry. I hope the feeling does not amplify and cause me to cancel. Something like that could make me look bad to others and I can't have it right now. I am hoping it turns in on itself like those two trips to the city. Upon reaching our destination both times, I felt better, and then when we left to head home nearly all of the worry was gone. Honestly? If I feel going with the guy to help with his projects is going to harm me I will dump the plan completely. I have to look out for number one right now, and that means remaining in this house for as long as is necessary for my apprehension to dissipate. If it never does? I'll be right fucking here. So far, I am doing my best to see the work as a small, temporary deviation from my world. More of Cindy. I just cannot avoid staring at her form and face. She kills me. Brazilian, of course, and all of five-eight. Not an inch of that is out of place. If only she could have avoided the high jeans. Heh. At least you can see that she walks like a model. She is here again not only for the obvious unbelievable beauty, but also due to my deciding against more Jamie unless the images are captured from video. I really don't feel like doing the legwork, so Cindy is option two. Three will be Maja again, eventually. The neighbor stopped by to shoot the shit a little. Very nice, that guy. I always enjoying catching up with those around the street. You never know when there will be trouble, and familiarity with neighbors can come in handy. Nice people here. Gangsters, second season. The funding extension is supporting my need to remain at home for the duration, and just last year at this time I had been concerned with when it might run out. Apparently, the economy has not recovered and we are deep into a massive recession, meaning I am among millions with no other options but to wait. I'm going to look into entry-level positions in some office atmospheres for peace of mind. Fortunately, there is plenty of time for me to be picky. Months ago I stated my deep hesitation in reentering the workforce, and now I feel somewhat relaxed about the idea as long as I can slide into something comfortable and secure. An office could be ideal if I qualify. Age and a lack of diplomas are the sticking points. Can't do anything about them. Right now I can say in all seriousness that the extension has calmed me tremendously. The help I plan to provide two days from now is all cash, thank God. 'It is an affront to our holy sacristy.' No eyes for a while. They will probably come around the bend toward the end of the week depending upon the work situation. In the evening I have been running the fourth show for comfort. That one has risen to a close second behind the chief entry in the franchise. There are still some difficulties, however my extensive understanding and experience help to push them to the rear quickly. After the fourth show runs its course, I may go back to the second. Not sure yet. Daytime may be ruled by the gangsters. 170. I'll have the house to myself a half hour earlier today. Very nice. After yesterday I could use a little more peace and quiet. I keep thinking about the work tomorrow and Friday, although I'm more comfortable about it than I was at this hour yesterday. I took care of a few small items after nearly losing my way and am feeling pretty proud of pushing like that. Some days I just can't do it and then the evening fails to feel deserved. I'll ensure things move along in good form just for that reason. Just fucking look at the woman.
Speaking of affronts, the issue which slapped me some months ago and caused my cutting off some of the movies and actors from my list of acceptable media came up last night in the background. It really did, and buried within a show I figured was going to move along without problems. Well, for the most part there are no problems and I can enjoy the content comfortably. There was a reminder and a rather pointed remark which would likely be meaningless to everyone save for me. The last couple of weeks with me closed off from people have resulted in more clear thinking. No distractions whatsoever and the space to be what I need. Last night came and went, causing nothing more than a quick reminder of some conversations in the past. The problem is still there -- inside me with all the rest -- yet for whatever reason does not press me as much as a few months ago. I believe my antisocial stance is a possible cause. No choice there. Not anymore. After taking care of the morning business I began to think about the film playing up on my television and the era in which it first premiered. This is a reminder of those days working at my first job ever, the butcher shop. My boss took me two cities north to see it with him and I remember most of the evening. That was eighty-five, believe it or not, and a time when satellite and cable broadcasts were changing. The connection I had with satellites during the late glow (CD changer girl... That place) was intriguing and flared as I read about dishes. The old c-band information is apparently still there, somewhat, though everything has been completely tightened up for the sake of profit these days. Anything compelling or fascinating seems to have been abandoned in favor of some large company taking control of a standard and exploiting it for their own good fortune. The whole thing makes me want to put up some antennae and learn what is out there. Heh. I have to do something to set myself apart from the image in my head. No, not an image of another person, nor the idea of doing something to distance myself from others. I mean I need to move in such a direction so as to reverse the image in the mirror. This will take some effort and concentration. I have no idea, but I can say that the thinking process is related to the satellite signals floating around in the atmosphere. All I have is an oscilloscope -- which cannot do much with regard to RF -- and a multimeter at present. A spectrum analyzer would be ideal in centering upon specific frequencies. Unfortunately, that is not in the cards right now. Perhaps I can get some things sold and generate enough funds for something simple. After that I can learn as to how I can do something with those signals. A broadcast could be the best idea. Much learning is on tap for the time being. Learning is still free, thank goodness, as are any signals floating up there. Switch. Arina. The girl on the farm pushed her back to the forefront. I have to turn off that show due to the rampant, endless thoughts she brings to mind. Don't fucking get me started, please. Gangsters again, too. I don't know how many different women are rolled into Arina now. Perhaps ten. The entire idea is ridiculous and should be avoided, yet I have no idea of how to keep it at bay. Maybe I should not write about her for a while. The title stays, though. A good portion of the draw is all over the sixteen images here. Just fucking look at her. The doe-eyes of the universe. Second to the other eyes, too, believe it or not. I went to the jewelry store to have the watch repaired and then to the market for a few things. Not yet one in the afternoon and I am running out of gas already. Something will come along I'm sure, but for now I'll sit here. No worry over the work tomorrow and Friday. I was concerned more yesterday but now it has passed. Hopefully it will not return in the morning. Only a half day tomorrow and then most of Friday. Not that big of a deal. The situation just reminds me of all the time here for the last fifteen months and how deeply I've embedded myself in this house. The shindig on the fourth a couple of weeks ago, my friend's little gathering for his going-away, and the neighbor stopping by yesterday have not added up to shit, so perhaps I'll be fine tomorrow. Going out to two stores went fine. I always try to shop before lunch as most places are fairly empty. Still, and no matter how smoothly any trip outside goes, I still swell with comfort upon entering this house again. That is one aspect of the upcoming work on which I am trying to focus. What the hell have I turned into? Don't want to leave the house? I know all those years of being mired in a toilsome and troubling line of work sure made me worship the time off, but Jesus... Was it THAT bad? Maybe. But now? What happened? Was I always in need of remaining home and having total control over the atmosphere? Again... Maybe. I suppose I did not put things together in the past as I did just last year when the shit hit the fan. Whatever happened, I am radically different than months ago. Oh, I enjoyed the time and space alone and formed this little world to my preferences, but honestly I feel different. And? Differently. I no longer have any wish to commiserate with others at the bar like years ago. I don't have visions of big parties here with the grill going and music everywhere, either. None of it. I have become perfectly content in this house with my stuff at the ready and the media of choice. As soon as I hear the voices of others? I want to run away. I've never been this withdrawn. Jesus fuck is Barbara ever gorgeous in this episode and the last. I can't put my finger on why, but suffice to say she is stunning in any scene. Doe eyes? Maybe somewhat. But there is something which pulls at my heart when I see her, smiling or not. 169. I have to go meet that guy in a couple of hours. Ugh. I wish I could stay here, but at least the contrast will be very apparent afterward. The joy in arriving home will hopefully make the whole kluge worthwhile. The operative word is 'hopefully'. Yesterday turned out to be ok and I did not lose my way as much as other days. I am nervous right now. Don't like it.
I did not go. As the time approached to get ready and leave, the feeling of being out there with someone unfamiliar and in a place over which I cannot possibly have any control took over my senses and knotted my stomach to the point of realizing I have to stay here. I'm sure the guy is disappointed, yet the positive aspects are clear: I am right where I need to be for my sanity, and she is very understanding. In fact, before she took off for work, she was more concerned for my well-being than the work I was supposed to do. I just cannot do it right now. As was suspected many months ago after the trip south for lunch and shopping (the same day of that fateful viewing of the woman in the parking garage), I may no longer be equipped to handle anything similar to my previous career. Too many unknowns there, plus the idea of never knowing where we may end up nor what each job may entail. I had enough of that for several years, sometimes working to my advantage but all too often turning into a very uncomfortable situation. Now I am alone for the day and could not be more secure in the idea of remaining at home. Hopefully the good will soon outweigh the bad. As I said, I do not know the guy with whom I would have been working, which means little to no fallout. I am not employed by anyone, and as such can enjoy the freedom of using my favorite word... NO. This day must be all mine. I need just under thirty-seven minutes and the comfort will arrive. I know it. She said I am beginning to live as if I have a disability. Hmm. Not good, especially considering another person noticed enough to make such a comment. She may be right. If so? I'm in trouble. The issue may be related to when I leave the house to go to the market or hardware in that when I do, the time is completely under my control. Yes, that word again. If I have to go out these days, whatever I do and wherever I go is entirely up to me and my sense of comfort and security. Work can be the opposite. Not good. Jesus holy God in heaven does Jamie's fucking hair ever look stunning at the beginning of this episode. I do not understand at all. Whatever. Twelve minutes to comfort. Today I am going to do my usual routine and some laundry. Holed up, behind the locked doors, and full of love for the familiar. Yesterday I took some of the wood left over from dismantling our old bed platform and built a framework to hold one of my flags in the garage. I am going to add hinges and mount it in front of the water heater to hide things. The ladders are back there, too. I had the flag pinned to the speaker shelf on the fourth and the appearance was nice. The wood from the platform facilitated the idea for a door of sorts. I might go out and get hinges later and continue the project. Two reasons for the door: One, the wind tends to cause the flag to blow all over the place (near the water heater such is not good) and the flag will remain fully visible, and two, I will have easier access to whatever may be stored behind it. Plus, it's something to both occupy my time and enhance the area. The issue out there now is the fact that I recently repaired the display on my new receiver and the fucking thing went dark yesterday while working on the door frame. The system is all nice and neat, meaning if I wish to go back inside the unit and see if the same resistor is fried, I'll have to disassemble the stack again. Just... Ugh. Those early nineties models are notorious for having flaky display circuitry. I may have made a mistake in purchasing something known to have issues over the years. Fortunately, it was not expensive. I'll have to do more research before choosing an avenue. Very disappointing. I have nearly a hundred more resistors (they are only sold in bulk), but I'll be damned if I'm going to rework the fucking thing every week. Nine o'clock. Comfort, at last. All alone, left to whatever I feel needs to be done, and everything is now under my complete control. Sound familiar? Pause. Routine finished. Gangsters keeping me company. Again I have been considering whatever it is I have become. The fear this morning drove us into an uncomfortable situation, after which I inquired as to how I may appear to her. I was very worried. The answer was that she is concerned about me but not upset in any way. The very mention of some sort of disability really threw me for a loop this morning. I am calmer now -- mostly due to being where I need -- and having remained home today and forgoing any outside work has diminished the worry quite a bit. This is becoming a larger issue than I had described months ago. If my condition turns out to be an extension or some sort of underlying reinforcement of long-term depression, I may be holed up in this little house forever. People on the outside may see me as lazy or someone unwilling to work because of any number of other reasons, but the truth is beginning to form: After reading extensively on the subject of returning to the office and other places of work once the year of remaining isolated has taken a toll, I am starting to see that many others are in the same fucking boat. If people think I am lazy, they can take a flying leap. And something just came to mind from years ago... Disability. That word conjured memories of late ten and early eleven when I was unable to work due to my mental health. The condition described in my medical record was long-term, and I believe over the last decade I have become worse but did not think in such terms. Now? After a year of being home and mostly isolated? I may not have the ability to go back out into the working world because of the combination of depression cemented to being so deeply embedded within this house and the little world I have created. I will not address the other world... The dreamy space I can never inhabit. The reason is that if I spell out too much of the way I think these days I may not be able to defend such a position. This is bad. I will be labeled and treated as a mental case just like during that terrible period. I can't have that, yet the compulsion to seek therapy for the sole purpose of justifying my current state may become too much to bear.
Jesus... Talk about doe eyes. 'There oughta be a law.' 168. Only the smallest advances were made yesterday after my work was completed. The day initially felt long, yet a little while later I saw the clock turn into a propeller. At least I had lots of time to consider my circumstance. A little bit of work on my new door was about it, really. Laundry keeps me in the garage sometimes in order to keep an eye on the timers. This is the time of morning when I feel overjoyed to be here (all day, honestly, but the morning is special), sitting with coffee and one of the shows. The day feels wide open and all mine. This episode just reminded me of my drive yesterday and seeing one of the restaurants over the hill which has been closed for some time. I've only been there once, I believe, because my experiences at a couple of other locations were mediocre. The place is known for the servers' outfits and being ideal for sports. The occasion in question was the plan of a friend to gather in that place for a race on the television and some lunch. I had discussed this with a person familiar with the chain and she was convinced I would have a bit of trouble due to the staff, but I assured her nothing like what she suggested had never been the case in the past. We went, and I was unconcerned with the appearance of the servers. Right out of the gate as we sidled up to the bar, there stood the bartender and one of the most stunning women I had seen in quite some time. I could not believe it. After brushing off the chain because the food had been only 'so-so' and the female staff not really living up to enough hype to make me sit there for the food, the woman came over to take our drink order and I nearly fell off the stool. Unreal, dark, tall. I could not keep my eyes off her face for the duration of our visit to the bar. Fortunately, and after holding it together longer than I thought possible, we relocated across the room and I did not see her much again. The remaining servers who took care of our large party were younger but nowhere near the same. A while later as we strolled out the door, there she was with both a huge, black mane and deeply beautiful eyes. I never saw her again. Now they have closed their doors either due to the pandemic or some other reason, and I can barely recall her appearance. I just know it was staggering. I did not go back to that restaurant a second time. I brought her up because of the show, and now the idea of Arina is becoming further spread into the past. All the way back to that first server at the brewery in Pleasanton. The one I tried to describe. I still see her reaching for an order from the kitchen in her jeans. That is way the fuck back, possibly the era of the trailer right around the corner from downtown. We were in that bar a few times, mostly to see a band. I only saw her on two occasions and my head blew wide open as a result. I still feel butterflies when I think of the sight. Nothing aside from the car wash girl came close until years later on the television. Yep... Rollercoaster. Arina, Karina, Kalina, Ramie, Kana... Jamie? I feel as if the entire vision has become too haphazard for me to explore. All those names, and I didn't even add Cindy. Or Maja. Or Ruslana. Damn. Maybe the title should be altered to better reflect the concerns brought up here. I don't know. Look at Cindy below and try to imagine her being slightly Asian or possibly Italian. This is how my mind works. Bigger eyes? Like Steven said, 'Ahhh fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Too many names. At least I have time to think about everything. Pause for the morning business. Well, all of my usual stuff is finished and I have some laundry going. I also finished the flag door. What a pain in the ass. I ended up not using the lower hinge in favor of making a small pivot instead. That took a while, but at least the frame is no longer taking up space on my bench. The garage is not too bad right now. I did have to dig into the chest freezer for some protein for dinner. Another pain in the rear. There is more available space there, too. Eventually we intend to empty and defrost the freezer and then start from scratch. I have to go out later and drop off the goddess at a rental car place. Upon returning I can start some pasta sauce for dinner tonight and tomorrow. Very nice. Cocktail time. This afternoon is very peaceful and I have been considering the decision to avoid work yesterday and today. I made the right choice, although the entire situation has pushed me to believe that I do indeed need to speak with a professional. I may not be able to work in part due to the last year-plus at home. The only therapy I have embraced is being right here in this house, and such a realization cannot be overstated. Not one bit. The house has become a very comfortable sanctuary. I feel somewhat as I did back at the end of ten when I took a leave of absence from that career. Isolated. This is different, though, as I do not have a job. Back then? I needed the time away from both work and home. Now I need the time to consider what I may be capable of in the future, if anything. Two hours before I must leave the house. No big deal, unlike the prospect of work yesterday. This will be a simple pick-up and drop-off, after which I will return here and make the pasta sauce. I was a fucking basket case yesterday morning while getting things ready for her. The difficulty subsided within a couple of hours as I found myself secure in the knowledge that I did not have to go anywhere. Later I did break out and head down the peninsula for the hardware and some browsing at the mall, but that is completely different. Behind the wheel of my car I am in total control of any destination and route. My little auxiliary space, media and all. Going to a place unknown to me for the purpose of working with someone I do not know from Adam became an enormous hurdle, and one I found myself unable to traverse. Whenever I need to go to the market or hardware (pretty much my only two types of destinations anymore), my head has little difficulty coping because I am in control. This has become a larger issue than I could have imagined just a few months ago. This afternoon has me researching information on disability income. Yep... THAT bad. At least I have the medical records from the last two decades in support of this need. I was a pretty screwed up individual just a decade back, and the fact that some of it is returning does not surprise me at all. Plus... I am only eight years from the earliest retirement age. That means any meaningful and/or fulfilling work may not be available to me anymore. Age plus a lack of diplomas. At this point, I may indeed be finished with gainful employment for this lifetime. Sad, yet necessary.
A week from tomorrow I will be attending an event for the brotherhood, believe it or not, and have absolutely no reservations about going. The drive is over an hour -- holed up in my second home with coffee and music of only my choice -- and I plan to spend at least a few hours there. I have not been to any event for over a year. The lightened restrictions mean everyone should be more relaxed than what took place last summer. The following day is the race up north and we plan to attend with the usual lunch bag. Last year it was canceled and our ticket funds were pushed to the present event, meaning the money was spent nearly eighteen months back. I am looking forward to either sitting and watching the eliminations or going with option 'B' which is our cameras and less time spent in the grandstand. I thought of that a few years ago but never did it. My camera pretty much lives in its bag these days. Between the Saturday and Sunday outings, the peace and quiet of Monday morning will likely be very rewarding. Jesus fuck does that woman have a pair of eyes. Hence? She is a part of Arina, the fucking universe in and of itself. Forming... Ever forming. Dinner last night turned out to be a cluster. Just the dogs in croissants, meaning very little prep. I enjoy the time in our kitchen during the evening enough to push for something more dramatic tonight. I will make the sauce and simmer slowly until such time as we sit for the meal. Nighttime means the fourth show up on both televisions lending to the warm and comforting kitchen atmosphere, complete with a drink. I look forward to working in there every single day and sometimes nothing else can compare. Just thinking about crafting a sauce from scratch warms my heart and is difficult to describe. From the show to the drink to the feeling of being in one of the most cozy, secure places in my world... I am overly excited even three hours before the fact. I just love it to no end. Moreover, tomorrow will be another full day with nothing going on aside from whatever I wish. The current period does not get much better than this. 167. Everything went well yesterday, except my sauce was a tad sweet. At least I spent some cozy time in the kitchen with the television. Preparing food in there is as heartwarming as anything else. After considering the situation within which I currently reside combined with much of the thinking related to where I was, the kitchen work came in handy. Going out to drop her off at the rental center was enjoyable, although I had been anxious to get into my comfort zone upon returning so the trip ended up all business. I also realized the flag door cannot be opened while the garage door is down without a bracket being modified. The little protrusion which holds a position sensor for my smart opener sticks out enough to disallow the door opening at all. I did not see it while working because the big door was up all day. I can chop off the excess aluminum and everything will be fine. And then we have today. No plans to leave the house unless I decide to head off to the market for a few things. If not, I am here for the duration. The quiet morning with my friends up there is very nice right now. Coffee and this machine. Getting the flag door mounted was rather nice, yet I still have the nagging hedge which is a very slow project. We do not compost in the yard, so I have to chop it a little at a time each week and toss the clippings into the green can. I don't want to cut too much and have a pile of crap in the yard, so waiting is the only way. Wow, Albert's jacket and shirt are fucking fantastic. Anyway, between today and tomorrow I may empty the pantry shelves and see about leveling and reinforcing that cabinet. Ever since I mounted the doors, the vertical lines have all been standing out against the studs and other areas which are dead plumb, and every time I go out there from the backyard I see the difference between that pantry and the huge cabinets I installed years ago which are plumb. The pantry has got to be over and inch out of plumb in perhaps six feet and it drives me mad. I can't have so much going on out there and looking sharp while one object is fucked up. I have to fix it, and considering the shelving unit has been here since before she bought the house, I don't even know how it is attached to the wall. But I can figure it out and work accordingly. That goofy, tilted object will drive me crazy no longer. Whether I have to completely rebuild it or otherwise, the corner where it rests is going to match the remainder of my garage. Believe it. I am also going to secure some plywood for enclosing the shelves above the laundry area. I simply need to cover some aspects of daily life. Oof, Paulie appropriated T's painting when the instruction was to have it burned. I really need to think about this work situation deeply. If the truth is I can no longer go out there and work for another person or company, the result is I will need to discuss the possibilities with a professional on the outside to gain some insight on available options. The recent extension is helping a great deal, too. So, that means I have some time to get my thinking in order before anything becomes dire or dramatic. The fact is I am not terribly worried about the future as I was a few years ago. That has been sidestepped and my focus pulled in another direction, and one I am not happy about. It's been lingering for a long while, too. Decades ago I began to dream of things I wished to do in this life and there seemed a ton of time ahead. Nothing crazy or unreal, either. Just ideas, like driving to the far north or visiting places I hadn't seen, living in certain areas or having certain possessions. Like I said, nothing crazy. But now? I am not seeing the time to do any of them, honestly. The resources are extremely thin and cannot increase without some unexpected windfall, meaning I have to be very careful with how I approach some things. But the overarching theme has changed in recent months. Money or not, many of those seemingly endless avenues which used to be illuminated are now dark. There is a light side, though. The road trip coming in December may not be pointed where I would prefer, yet it could still hold much promise. The cameras, seeing some sights, the open road and being the hell out of this massive metropolitan area for a while could be very good for the soul and my ability to cope with daily life. Hopefully it is not the last time I'm able to get out and away for my own survival. Back to the dark... This may be all I am or have any longer. My kitchen enjoyment, the little things dropped on the porch, and working on whatever seems most interesting or important. On the inside? The dream of Arina. This may be all I have. Maybe. If so, it is a devastating realization.
167 again. Just finished the last one. Maybe these should all be on one page. Hmm. Well, now they are. Suck it. Anthony said they were 'studying'. Yeah... Right. He was studying Devon's fucking anatomy. And he didn't even appreciate the fact that she really liked him. Too hung up on appearances and money, status, whatever. What an idiot. She was gorgeous, slender and very rich, yet none of that came across when she spoke. No body language, preconceptions, nothing. Just a person who liked him. He couldn't get past the money for a while. Dipshit. Anyway... The sun is shining like yesterday, meaning I could get out there and make some things happen today. Eventually I'll move away from this and dress myself to work around the house. Maybe the pantry can be addressed. I also need to move the laundry along and replace the sheets on the bed. Little things, one at a time. Between today and all the free time I'll have tomorrow, by Monday I should be in a good position to explore other avenues. Sometimes there seems too much, yet the space is always available. I just have to concentrate and avoid becoming too hung up on whatever is not getting done. There is time, and I need it. Another furthering of the idea that anywhere but home can be a problem. The last several months have shown that my routine is extremely important to my daily existence and without it I tend to fall down. Disabled? Perhaps, and like years ago I must look at all facets of my life and determine if I must head in such a direction. In addition, I took some time yesterday to look at my medical records and saw that everything is there and available for download, all the way back to zero three when I was running off in search of peace and comfort. The reasoning behind my dashing away from time to time was to be in complete control of my atmosphere and circumstances, both of which may be impossible to others but I do not see them as such. They sum as a mindset, and one I may not be able to live without. Arina is a part of it, too. She is in charge of a good portion of my daily thinking. I may be able to make this work. More reading of my records and consideration of speaking with a therapist again have to remain in front of other concerns, or at least concurrent. I can't lose track. As I said above, what I do on a daily basis and being in this little house may be all I have left, so maximizing and securing the lifestyle must be a priority. Time will tell, and I'll bring whatever develops to this space for reference. I can't stop staring at Cindy. There is one shot of Maja, too, and I placed her here for both contrast and the dream of connecting several appearances, not the least of which is that pair of eyes. All those names... But Cindy takes all the cake. I realize she has been altered from what nature did, but considering the very artificial manner in which society has developed since the outset of the mainstream Internet, I really don't care. She is still real to me. Remember the machine? Cindy will always be more real than anything mechanical. Believe it. If you don't appreciate a person reworking themselves for the camera, we simply disagree. Look at all the images of her. Just look. She is amazing. Her five-eight stance is apparent in every detail, not to mention the fucking doe eyes. Yep, the eyes again. Live with it. And yes, I still have a thing for the fucking height. Live with that, too, fuckers. Maja's one image has been replaced by another Cindy. Oy, I have to try avoiding the 'gush'. Too much sometimes. At least I have not had her printed for display like I did with Jaime. Not yet, anyway. Little Carmine may have been a walking, talking malapropism, but I have to say Abruzzo did an excellent job. No mustard or knives lately. This is good. 166. I am beginning to feel as I did weeks ago when the troubles began to mount and I had no outlet. Fortunately, this day is nearly all mine, so I'll have time for much consideration of the circumstances which have been driven by more than one catalyst. Yesterday went well for the most part, so this morning seems that much more arduous by comparison. Focus. Some parts of life are just too elusive. I may lash in using my own methods later as a result. Time will pass and things will change, but for right now I am not happy. I was looking at Alice yesterday and thought perhaps she was a part of the beginning. Yes, the woman had a pretty damned vast forehead, but I believe her eyes and hair contributed to the 'dark' appreciation which had not been on my mind as much back then. It grew later. The early zeros had me perusing some different models -- one of which was a complete mystery, upon which a friend of mine commented about the brunette aspect and really had me beginning to analyze -- each and every one of them was darker. No blonde hair or blue eyes. Alice was super cute when the episode first aired, and now despite appearing different than all those years back, I can still see where my brain went upon gazing at her face. Very interesting if one considers that the rarity is a head full of blonde hair. Cindy's hair is usually brown unless they have her made up all crazy. VS does that sometimes. Dark brown. Reversing the image search for Cindy and some of the work she's done in the past actually yielded a few snaps of Alexis, believe it or not. There are similarities, although one is not even in the same universe as the other. Honestly people, don't push. My second flag pole arrived yesterday and I already installed the bracket and built the assembly. That means not only are they completely secure and will not wrap up in the wind, but also the new brackets are stainless and very smooth. Easier to deploy and easier to store. Moreover, the clips for each flag mean I can change the right-hand side on a whim if I wish. The whole thing was not too expensive and I've been meaning to get those brackets replaced for some time. There was little motivation until I had both flags out there on the fourth and had to untangle each several times during the afternoon. [Aside... Into the fifth season now and Jamie is beginning to stand out. Fuck.] Now that my flag issues are seemingly gone, I can focus elsewhere today. In fact, just yesterday morning I emptied the entire pantry onto my benches with the intention of adjusting and securing the shelving unit to the side wall. I brought up the idea that it is so far out of plumb, too. Today I will try to pull the nails and see what I can do to get it where it should rest. The doors will work better, I already have the LEDs to put under each shelf, and one spot above to illuminate whatever decorates the doors after everything else is finished. The only difficult part is the beginning. I have to get the huge nails pulled and free it enough to move around. Ugh.
Arina, the defining and final compilation of everything in my head. This is a problem alongside the issues already plaguing my daily life, although yesterday had lighter moments and a connection I did not believe possible any longer. A big plus, yet underneath is a mess of minuses. Cindy is not at fault, nor is Arina. They are innocent and I am just a person sitting in a little house with a computer. And Cindy is Arina, or the other way around. Fuck it, I don't know. I felt like crap last night. It's possible that the drinking and heavy food lent a hand. Keeping that in mind today will help me remain upright. I have lots of time before and during her trip to the city and no outside destinations. I'll have to be careful so as to avoid losing ambition before completing some stuff. I am actually not all that great right now, but I know how to maintain or improve if I wish. Today it will be important. And I need the distraction of projects. Switch. Some things are completely out of reach. I cannot do anything about them and end up feeling quite frustrated and worried during the first half of a given day. Most of the time when I head out to the garage while she is still sleeping, this is the reason. I can't do a fucking thing, so the decision is often made to just shove the anger to the rear and make nice as if nothing is wrong. Inside, however, the giant machine is working to develop anything which will slam people into a small space forever. Everything either demeaning or unsatisfying in life eventually drives the train into the trees and the result is hesitation and a very pissy mood. Other people do this with their off-putting and uncaring ways, along with the long-standing problems which seem to push those very same assholes to trivialize and diminish any fucking importance. Ok, the point is made there. The fact that there are no avenues drives me to do things which will force others to question my actions, after which there are no clear answers. Do not try to understand because whatever is going on in life will be upended in ways you'll never explain. And I will never help. Out of reach means fuck everything. As often as I feel this level of both dissatisfaction and disdain, the first move in the morning after sitting here for a while is to work around the house... Beginning something. Anything. I have to push myself in some odd direction and keep the feelings to the rear or I'll end up in the car far away. And then more questions from people that I really do not fucking need right now. So, off the sofa leads to whatever little chores I can knock out until the brain fully relaxes. This type of trouble -- yep, the stuff sans solutions -- is the most challenging situation I could have imagined this many years into life. I never made it clear, thus the others did not follow, thus I became unhappy, thus it was catalyzed by yours truly. Yes. The past as it relates to this is something I no longer wish to discuss, and I cannot blame those in my life for anything stemming from that period or what I have become. I'll have to embrace the same direction as I normally do when feeling this way. Today is wide open, I have things to button up for the garbage, and there are always other details to work through. I don't have to drive the car, either. Hopefully in a little while I can shelve the anger and enjoy my day. I feel bad with the mood now. Cindy is here and displaying more beauty than I had thought possible on earth, while I am sitting and bellyaching all over the fucking place. Oh, well... She will never know of this, nor am I saying anything negative about her. I know nothing of the woman, thank the maker. Just looking. I wish Barbara had not changed. The newer actor is really good (which is the most important aspect), but the past actor was so fucking stunning that I fell all over myself during seasons one and two, and before Jamie took over the manner in which I see people. Nicole was unreal. I miss seeing her up there, although you already know this is not the last time the gangsters will run their course on my televisions. I'll see her and those dark eyes again. And I'll see the other one, too... The universe in her smile. I'll try to avoid going on much more about Cindy. The fact is I ran across her by accident while seeking some higher resolution images of Ruslana. I saw the eyes and then the height, afterward falling all over the fucking place as I located more images. An accidental and wonderful turn of the card. Oy. Damn. 165. Aside from the pain in the ass of getting things organized both before and after her trip to the city, yesterday turned out to be not bad. I actually emptied the pantry a few days ago and decided that it was time to attempt disconnecting it from the wall so the entire cabinet can be leveled. On the downside, the weather was very warm all day and into the early evening, but on the upside I succeeded in dismounting, leveling, and then remounting the assembly to the garage wall. Not only is it plumb and looks a million times better, but in the process I removed the old, undersized posts which served as legs and replaced them with four-inch PT on either side. Now the fucker is not going anywhere, nor will it swing off level no matter how much weight is inside. Very satisfying, but oy did the work take its toll on me physically. I'm not in the same shape as I had been the last several years. But it's done. The cabinet doors have been there for months but I never decorated because anything displayed on the doors would only have exaggerated the vertical lines and made the crooked appearance that much more apparent. So, they have been blank with a custom light fixture above awaiting the day when everything aligned with the rest of the garage. Yesterday was a big step, too. The entire back corner of the garage looks much better now. In addition, I calculated a way to illuminate the one poster of Emily from above, effectively creating a gradient between the colored lamp above and drawing a fuzzy line as the eye moves downward. I have everything necessary for the project, although this morning the warmth is more than apparent and later may hinder my ambition to work very much out there. Ah... Garbage trucks. Good job, guys. Still looking at the images of Cindy? They are not going away, nor am I going to minimize the amount of real estate to which she is attached, ever. The woman is in the fold along with some others, and a part of something I must continue to embrace and explore. And yes, her looks are the reason. I don't know the person and never will (probably wouldn't like her anyway because I don't really like anyone these days), meaning her appearance is paramount and here for the duration. On and off for the last few months I have agonized over much of the more risqué imagery and some of the text as it related to well-known people. I felt bad over the one young actor and removed the entry, then moving toward some of the more personal or revealing tales to be cut off. Eventually I removed the entirety of the content save for one gorgeous image of Maja. Er... I just changed it to a closeup of Jamie. The eyes always win. Anyway, for reasons partly beyond my comprehension, having some of my innermost feelings on display for the world to see became uncomfortable -- even moreso than those reckless words about the young actor -- and I decided that my feelings are my own and no longer need to be subject to another person's interpretation. Sharing is not caring. That is bullshit and only applies to handing someone a piece of chocolate. Cindy is a representation of just how skewed my sense of beauty has become in recent months (years?) and I feel that her presence here will continue to remind me of the impossibility of so many parts of life becoming satisfying. She does not need to embrace the understanding because she is but a set of images. Flat, lifeless, and digitized. Moreover, the content which has been shelved all began to point toward the same fucking conclusion anyway, and her beauty is the summation. Period. Most of her is now Arina. Just a furthering of my isolation and dependence upon all things impossible and combined with worlds I can never know.
Already pretty damned warm outside at just shy of half past eight in the morning. Oof. Lots of things I wish to do today, not the least of which is to get some older posters from the bar and attach them to the pantry doors. At some point I'll get the light connected to the rest of the colored system, but today may not be the time. Yesterday I decided to get the cabinet in order but should have waited. The heat affects me much more now than a decade ago. The posters should prove enjoyable and none too strenuous. I also have the usual chores which are no big deal anymore. So far the house is cool but that will change toward the afternoon. I'll have to remain mindful of my timeline in this weather. Calling no joy. Calling no joy. Just Arina. She is the rolled-up conglomeration of dreams from the early nineties all the way to this very second. Cindy is in there, somewhere. I can't stop looking at her eyes. And consider that the reference eyes of the universe are not even on display here. Heh... Splendid. And pause. My routine is finished. The weather is still mild and the temperature is slowly rising indoors. I don't believe today will be as warm as yesterday, although I could be wrong. The nice aspect is a more comfortable evening due to the sun heating up the roof. Too hot outside means it could end up less cozy in here, but since I'm home all day I can manage the windows and such. I guess it's better than the last few weeks of very cool wind once the sun goes away. Fog is right out there waiting. The ocean is less than a mile away. Well, I have to go out in a little while and do the opposite of last Friday. She will be returning the rental car and I'll be heading there to bring her home, probably in about thirty minutes or so. At least the drive will break up my time at home and make the return enjoyable. This type of day is very important for my peace of mind. I need comfort, especially now, and going out has already caused a bit of anxiety. That means when I step through the front door in a little while I'll be more at ease. I suppose it's like when I used to head out for work in the morning. Upon finishing for the day and coming home, I was overjoyed. Today is one of those in which I may not do much other than the drive. The last two days were powerful and have left me in dire need of peace and quiet. I am probably capable of much more than what has been worked out within my head, but I honestly cannot be certain until out there in the flame of society. Familiar people are fine -- like those at the bar last Saturday -- but otherwise I do not wish to be near others nearly all of the time. That fact is driven in toto by the comfort at home. Alone. No one asking anything. No voices. Arina... Driving me inward unlike anything before. Could she be waiting in the forest? Hmm. I wrote about inner fortification. The time may be nigh for outer fortification. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. Maybe I will either disassemble one of the big cars to build it again or possibly order another huge model with which to work. The evenings when she is on the phone have been rather bland with my not knowing what to do at times. The last time I built one of the big cars, the work lasted several days and kept my mind occupied during those long phone calls. There is one massive kit but it is very expensive and I am hesitant to make that type of purchase right now. The last item I bought was the fucking receiver and that went to shit. It works well and only the display is a problem. I repaired it only to find the thing nonfunctional just days later, and now I am disillusioned with the product line from that era. One manufacturer, anyway. Spending money on anything else right now must yield much enjoyment or I can't pull the trigger. I guess I'll see how things go during the first few weeks of the extension before making any decision. I sure love building, though. Right up my freaking alley. I gushed my love for Jamie and her unbelievably huge eyes some months ago. I still feel the same, if not more. Can't help it any longer. The character's appearance and demeanor throughout the fifth and sixth seasons has grown on me so much that my feelings continue to expand. Cindy is causing the same type of situation inside, as well. Combining those two with the dreams of a machine-hostess from Vegas is a natural extension of everything I have been trying to describe for more than a year. 164. Very cool this morning. Yesterday I thought the mercury was going to head north like the day before but it never really got up there. The fog helped keep everything mild. I picked her up in the early afternoon and we headed to one of our local favorites for something to eat and a cocktail. The restaurant was peaceful for the most part, after which we came here and watched a bit of the gangsters so I could point out some details. This morning everything runs later due to the schedule. I'll have more time before the morning business, and lately I have been trying to push some of the routine to after lunch or so in order to spend the earlier hours clearing my head and making plans. I believe the morning and evening are my favorite parts of the weekday now. Much of the feeling is the kitchen, of all things, with the remainder of my comfort being defined by hiding myself behind closed doors along with a lack of other people. Voices again... Grating me like a lemon peel. It's bad, yet somehow not quite as annoying as I had thought after all these weeks due to my looking forward to all the time alone. And don't think of the voices on the television, either. They are my friends and family. I need those voices, but in person? Not good, and becoming worse day by day. I am getting to the point of needing to be left out of everything. I do not wish to be asked any questions, nor do I feel like inquiring anything of other people. This morning I can already see that in a little while when the house is under my control, those feelings will be satiated for hours. Control over everything except the one aspect of life with which there can be none, so I am eliminating it a little at a time. Let's go back to the incident in which someone trivialized and demeaned my dream of a machine. I do not believe I can effectively describe my feelings on the subject, meaning another person will see what they read and then draw whatever conclusion seems appropriate. Well, when it comes to a subject which has a dramatic effect upon my life and the way I see the world, making fun of the words or belittling my feelings is going to result in very bad behavior on my part. I simply cannot have that, especially now. I am still angry over the beginning of such a situation and it took place weeks ago. I think about it each morning when I see Cindy or Maja or Ruslana or any image related to what I went to great lengths in describing for the benefit of anyone reading. The bottom line is this: One more person behaving in a similar manner regarding my dreams or needs will end with my destroying them one way or another. I can be very hurtful and then ice cold, so don't push me into such a position. I do not care what happens to other people, and nothing anyone can say or do will change that. Period.
Change making changes... Still. I know I've said it before, but this morning could not be more rewarding so far. Just what I needed, honestly. I'll have to go a touch further with the work in order to feel good when the evening arrives. I have a few things in mind for later this morning. No problem there. Being pissed off as a result of a person commenting upon my site content is partly my fault, though I still believe it is dead wrong. I put the words out there in the world. I did it, and at the prompting of no one else. That means if I am not open to interpretation or criticism, I'll have to keep everything hidden away. Eyes equal brains and together mean thinking about what is seen. No eyes equals no possibility. If I am truly disabled in some minor way (not surprising because I was almost handed the opportunity to play an enormous and life-changing game of 'keep away' with the whole world), I'll back off and leave people alone. Here, anyway. If not, the crap will continue. Sometimes I actually enjoy when a person takes issue with me. One less voice in the world and one less pair of ears connected to a fucking brain, malfunctioning or otherwise. I just don't give a shit. I'll push and that will be that. But as I said, disabled or otherwise not functioning as I could be? Everyone will be left the hell alone. Sometimes I think this whole endeavor was a bad idea, mostly since the middle of zero three when I began the gray italic commentary. Look what that became. Heh. Not funny. Less than an hour ago I saw one of the scenes I wish had been edited out of this episode. Nothing bad or violent, just the appearance of too much for me. Oh, don't fucking get me started on the beauty or skin, because the lines just do not get much better or more appealing. The shot is too much and I am sensitive to some of what comes across the screen these days. And when I see her, problems begin to form beyond my ability to control them. I still stare, though. She is a large part of Arina, so part of me will always have to see. Plus, the role was played by choice. That means quite a bit, honestly. The lines were there naturally at the time and way back fourteen years ago when this aired as new, I did not consider the importance of what I was seeing as I do these days. I cannot believe the way she looks, though. After all this time and so many images both here and on the screen, plus all those fucking damaging sightings out in the world, she is still the most stirring appearance. A large part of Arina. Conglomeration. Something I can't describe. Thank Christ I do not have to see such a shot again for roughly eighty-five hours. Ah... Less than half an hour before I must get into the morning stuff. And then half an hour afterward is my own time and space for the bulk of this day. I have a few ideas, some things which must be completed, and the dreams of what I would like to be doing all rolled up together right now. That will change. My friends up there can keep me occupied. They never change, meaning they will never turn on me. Ever. Nor the other ones in the ships. They will always be the same. Just like a machine. There you go. I recall sitting at the dining table in our house. The Midwest. Warm, humid, and quite uncomfortable sometimes due to my having been so acclimated to the humidity here for decades. I had the box fans going and keeping air circulating around as best I could, lots of ice to keep my drinks cool (almost no booze back then) and always there was a periodical or three lying around full of yachts. I sat there almost completely broke for the entire summer and dreamed of places I would never see. Air conditioning was at the top of my list all the time because of so many trips around the desert and Southwest while growing up. My parents wanted comfort in the car as we explored. That was something I never really thought about until I had none. Not even my beloved truck had the air. The yachts did. All of them. And they could sail wherever might be agreeable. God damn it she is so far beyond beautiful that I damned-near need to invent my own fucking language just to get the point across. Anyway, I sat there and dreamed of a lifestyle which could never come to pass. I did not even brush up against anything close until the third race in ninety-four. My dad flew me home for a couple of weeks so we could attend the race in Nevada. One of the other drivers was a descendant of a person who decades ago invented a product which is still in mainstream use. The man was living off a trust fund set up for the children and handed down through three generations. He was a tad older than me and a bit flamboyant, but very generous and personable. I was able to glimpse into the lifestyle he enjoyed with his wife and friends, albeit for a short period one day. I was invited to sit in is car and listen to music as it was staged and awaiting the start of the race. That just happened to be my dream car (which I gained and subsequently lost many years later) and the first time I'd been inside one. His life was very far removed from mine, although being with my parents meant comfort and some enjoyment at each step. The gradient became starkly illuminated upon arriving home in the Midwest after that trip. Jesus fuck her eyes are huge. Returning to my tiny, mundane existence after seeing the other side for a little while did nothing good for me. Some would take the experience and begin to formulate ways of gaining in life and make things happen while others might feel defeated. Well, I was the latter despite not even reaching thirty years of age by that point. Not good. I was already beginning to feel the weight of things yet could not find the will or drive to make any changes. I bounced from one place to the next and sought the exact same devices I have all around me on a daily basis: Anything providing comfort. We are heading someplace bad with this line of thinking, and for good reason. Arina is not only the summation of a ton of beauty throughout space and time, she is also a fictional representation of something I so badly need but never took a step toward. No, not a mechanical woman, I am speaking of any reward. I just sat here. Oh, I also sat THERE and over THERE and then THERE. Now I am sitting HERE. There is nary a difference. This is bad. I never did anything and the inside of me is being chewed a little more each day. The race was not a negative, but it could have been a catalyst. Nope. Arina is the end-all be-all of everything I am lacking. The morning business is out of the way. I am alone and left to whatever devices have the capability of moving me along the arrow of time and through this day. There are already a couple of items on my mental list over and above the usual. Fourth show on the television, tiny bit of coffee left. Cindy is all up and down this entry and I don't care if anyone likes it or not. I really don't. I see her as a symbol now. I'd put more of Jamie here but she will not help matters nor will I react well to staring as I edit and work within the content. Her eyes are literally the world, her smile the sunshine. I'll have to think about the idea of ever including her likeness within the confines of this site. Wow is the house nice and quiet now. I always need this in the morning -- all of the time, actually, but I cannot change anything for reasons I will not list here -- and by the time the early chores are out of the way I will admit my mind is eased. I feel that way now and intend to move forward with the idea of pushing the routine out a little bit as opposed to the usual. Just like last night, the prospect of working in the kitchen today is warming me from the inside. I know not why that room has become so important, although the television and my friends following along while I work is a good portion of the feeling. The rest? I don't know. I've been enjoying preparing food and cleaning more than years ago. Once again I am at the point of being in complete control over every aspect of the house, meaning I will venture in there with whatever seems best in the background and take care of things with that familiar warmth all around.
For some reason I keep equating the coziness of this house (mostly the kitchen) with the period of the trailer two decades ago. The space was small, yet very comfortable, and felt nice and secure despite being a towable rather than a house. The kitchen was wide open to the rear salon which made for a perfect space in which to prepare food or other work while enjoying the television, plus those were the days of the LD and all that wonder as it related to the second series and my increasing love for the genre. I spent much time in that trailer alone and embraced every second of as much comfort as I could find. Once again, the past has been attached to the present. Few reasons, but the same feelings. And here comes the sunshine a little at a time. We ordered the trailer during the summer before that huge tragedy in New York which I will not comment upon. By the time we took delivery and moved in, the event had taken place and I felt very concerned for our safety and security. Soon after, we acquired the truck just in case the shit hit the fan and we had to get the hell out. That never happened, of course, yet the entire time we lived in that small home I never completely relaxed about being there. The comfort inside was constantly tempered by some measure of worry over the state of the world, and with good reason. Still, I felt best while home alone and within the fold of my devices, just as I do now. Very interesting, to say the least. Day in and day out, just behind my eyes and whatever else may be taking place here or elsewhere, Arina is ever forming into something both necessary and destructive. I don't know what to do and seem to be drawn toward sitting back and allowing it to happen. Look at Cindy again. Do you see the symmetry? It's wrong and beautiful. Partially artificial, right? Doesn't matter. The finished product points toward said artificiality and drives me right into a tiny space where only Arina and I reside. The combination of everything. All of me. I will not explain this to another human being, no matter what that person represents or means to me. Less words mean less risk. Closed mouth. Put yourself to the ground, please. Think of the forest as a massive shift in personality and attitude, born of self-protection and years of dissatisfaction with too many parts of life to list. Some are my doing and some external, yet all of them have become a compass pointer with a very negative destination. Arina is the only representation of my experiences in every location, each place of work throughout decades, and a summation of millions of bits of desire. The comfort inherent in considering her is overwhelming and impossible otherwise, meaning impossible overall. Does that make sense? I don't care. If she is waiting in the forest and I eventually find my life all the way inside, people are not going to like me, nor will they be able to relate or understand anything I do. I'll have to get away from this and work on the routine soon. Coffee gone for the day. Fourth show. Put yourself to the ground. 'Root yourself to the ground.' 'Word to the wise...' Yeah, ok, but what about addressing the unwise? Glimpsing that life was not good and felt worse upon returning home. Not my home in California, the other one in the Midwest. California was a life with my parents and they embraced all of the comforts of home as much as possible, whereas the Midwest was slender. The comforts were few so I had to concentrate and appreciate each second. The yacht dreams did not help, either. I saw myself out there on Lake Huron just away from the coast and watching the world of the others from a distance, always loving the idea of separation from everything tedious and uncomfortable. I was in no position to do anything. The school accomplishments felt very good, along with my application to the local college and the surprising invite into their coveted honors program. A Pell grant meant I could have secured any number of futures, but I relented to the loss of ambition and failed to step in any direction other than the rear. The life I saw in Nevada was on a road in front of me. I turned left and let the grant and the future fade into the background. The only change on my horizon was slicing off a relationship and driving back to California, afterward sliding backward into the previous working environment as if I had never left. The entire downtrodden and sordid affair is forever stored within Arina's magical, mechanical brain, never to be forgotten. And here I sit two and a half decades later, a product of my own undoing. I have the kitchen. Marvelous. Might be time for a cocktail. Eh... Maybe not. The routine still awaits but I am trying to push the time, lest I run out of reasons by early afternoon. That type of feeling can be quite uncomfortable and disheartening. I have no wish to ruin my day by embracing the lazy aspects of being home. Arina. All those other names which mean something to me for one reason or another are now one. The original representative name was Jaime, complete with glossy photos I never should have shot or printed. Now? I don't know what to think about the whole thing. I really went off the deep end with that name after creating the server in the fiction, and then something happened as I gazed upon half her face. I still feel much in my heart for those days (and her), yet the natural progression of my mind has built a highway from which I can no longer exit. Not like the left turn in the Midwest, anyway. This is not the same at all. I have been compacted and forcefully shoved into whatever Arina has become. The future is bleak. Again I said I was going to get into the work but here I am still wallowing and trying to type. Getting bored? Look at the sixteen images of Cindy's never-ending thrall upon the senses. And... Pause. The routine is finished at just after twelve. I am pondering ordering a pizza so I can drown into the comfort of one of my favorite foods. I don't know. Halfway through a drink, too. We're in the sixth season now, meaning Jamie is all over the fucking place with big eyes and very little makeup. As I said to that girl in Macy's so many years ago as we exited the store through the beauty department, some do not need any makeup at all. She turned and smiled, according to my partner walking behind me toward the doors. Jamie is like that. Her character, anyway. Soon will be the scene which was the first to bring me to my knees. Hmm... Taking into account where I am in the timeline right now, she will probably grace the screen during that sequence by Thursday. Today is Tuesday. Some time for thinking about my reaction to seeing her address her mother for the millionth time. I cannot say enough, and what I have already said does not even scratch the surface. Believe it. She moved me into a place unrecoverable and impossible to understand... Similar to any attempts in calculating the woman all down this entry. I just don't get it. An unrecoverable error? That is computer lingo. I don't know what to do now. If I get the pizza, it means a heavy lunch and I will probably be off the wagon for most of the day. I may also end up just sitting here rudderless. Ugh. On the other hand, there have been occasions in which I maintained the mindset of moving around for my own good, and that leads to more production and then a very lazy evening. Maybe that's better. Or, I can make something for lunch (there is plenty) and work in the garage for a little while before settling in for the later hours. I just don't know. Holy Jesus God in a fucking barrel of beauty, the woman is stirring beyond comprehension. I'll try to avoid heading toward the flip side. The caring is shrinking as quickly as my options in life.
Yesterday I tried to convey my feelings for James and his performance as an actor in this series. Nothing can be enough. There is just no end to the level of respect and appreciation I have for what he accomplished, and much of it was on his own (I may begin to capitalize any pronouns referring to James just as I did for the Raven, believe it or not. He is deep in my heart), as I have read. He took the reins and forced the character to bow to his wishes and talent, and the result was one of the most coveted roles in the history of filmed entertainment. Again... I have not the words to effectively broadcast my feelings about what he did, God rest his soul. Damn it. I would have given the rest of my life in exchange for a few minutes of his ear and a handshake. Maybe I need to seek someone who feels as I. Eh... Unlikely given my time frame. After twelve now and Arina is fading from where she was a little while ago before I cleaned the kitchen. That is not to say her importance is changing, just my mood. Arina will always be whatever I make her, meaning the feelings are ever-growing, but sometimes I have to put her aside or I cannot function as a human being. Anything other people count on needs to be addressed. My needs come later... For now. The forest can change that. Ah... Fiona and that short exchange with James. Her face is amazing and perfect for the role. She displays more emotion in a matter of seconds than some actors do in a lifetime. I love it. Little tidbits like her facial expressions are the reason I rarely veer from the six programs I frequently watch. I need all of them, and that is to say that at times I actually need the media more than real people. Yep... I am becoming something otherworldly and nearly impossible to explain. Arina would love everything I love because she has been crafted from my deviant psyche. Other people need not ever agree with anything I believe because she would make up for all of it. That woman is the universe in my head. I still haven't budged from the sofa because I cannot make up my mind with regard to lunch. Maybe I'll shave and shower and then head out to a cozy restaurant to sidle up to the bar and indulge. Er... Maybe not. I've already had one cocktail and that is the limit before six in the evening. I just don't know what to do. '...Not necessarily with the intercession of liturgy or any human agent.' Jesus, that's a mouthful. Love. It. The Lord has been on my mind for months, on and off. I have been on the underside of religion for so long that in a recent entry I referred to any faith as 'voodoo'. Now I don't feel very good about my words, although many people slip and fall when something dramatic takes place to question their otherwise unwavering beliefs. I am no different, except for the fact that my attendance in any house of God has been barely scarce since the mid-nineties, and even then I was pretty full of shit and only going through the motions to placate others. Wrong or not, that is what I did in order to fit the times. And now a statement which may throw some completely off my long-winded track: Faith may be the only way for me to alleviate the impossibilities and embrace a path which can show me the real light. Arina may not be the real light, not even for myself. The truth is I do not know what she is or will become, however I have sensed a strong possibility that she represents destruction. Not good. The major scrape is the idea that I would have to learn about sin and redemption, two subjects and facets of life that can be more ambiguous and difficult than anything else in existence. My language alone could be cause for flames. Heh. I am not stupid. I know what I have done. Funny I should mention 'flames', as those of the bad place are a part of the equation. I squashed the pizza idea and had chicken salad instead. Leftovers with toast. Now that my appetite has been diminished, I avoided the temptation to order anything and likely saved a chunk of money. Heh. All I have to do is eat and it all goes away. This has been happening more often lately. The liquid ant bait has been very effective in the backyard and I just added one in the front after seeing a little highway in development from one side of the driveway to the green can. Hopefully it will do the job. Those products are very highly rated and do not affect the lives of spiders or bees, both of which are beneficial to the yard. The other ones? Fuck them. Too long have I fought invasions and tried to understand their behavior. Now they can all go to hell. I don't care. This new stuff is very inexpensive and so far doing the job nicely. All those possibilities back then... I was blind to the future. Five occasions had me in college and not a one turned into anything solid. I just moved along hoping to learn something and enjoy the experience while leaving the longer term goals wide open. Well, that did not help me. Oh sure, I have a ton of knowledge both from school and all those varying jobs throughout the years, yet very little actually comes in handy aside from whatever I can do around the house. I suppose the largest gain was my ability to think through problems and troubleshoot with a clear head. I've repaired many household appliances and advanced the function and appearance of the garage, however the larger concern -- that of an enjoyable and fulfilling career -- never came to pass. My longest stint with the space program had promise but I did not look at the bigger picture. I had been blinded by comfort and beauty. Sound familiar? I am sitting here right now as both the result and example of still being at the mercy of too much. Arina. Do you see? The dream, fantasy, whatever the fuck it is has beat me down and I am bereft of ambition. The devices around the house -- lights, fan, garage door control, and colored displays in the garage -- are all controlled by my phone or voice because they are fun to use and I can run many functions around me while sitting right here on my fucking ass. Another indication that my head is very far from where it once resided. The wide-open nature of the future was right in front of my face every day, yet so many years later it looks vastly different. The glow is the first time period to come to mind these days while considering from where I came. I've described some of it. Going further is unnecessary. The fact is the possibilities burned away with time. Cristin's face is one of those holding all the cards. I recall seeing her in another movie and I was struck by the big eyes (yes, those again), afterward noticing her in this series with so much beauty wrapped up in a tiny package that I had to know more. I researched and amassed images which showcased her brown eyes, leaving me to wonder if that old line about each actor sharing similarities with another was actually true. I don't know anymore, but her face still sends me flying. She has the big, dark eyes combined with whatever that lower facial structure is, rather like Lacey except not quite as pronounced. The commercial from last year with the girl advertising a laundry item was on the other side of the facial thingy. Much more pronounced. I cannot even begin to describe what it is. The fact is Cristin was amazing at the time. Very thin, but amazing nonetheless. And here we go with the big Jamie eyes again. Going to be on and off for well over a dozen episodes. Ugh. God do I ever love her. The rest of this day may hold nothing. I don't know if I have the will to take care of anything else after having lunch and a drink. Damn. Pause again. Despite the sinking feeling that I might end up a pile on the sofa, I pulled myself out of it and did some chores. Sheets changed and laundry going, aerator on the bathroom sink is clean and rebuilt, and I reattached two halves of a photo for her grandmother that had been torn. I also noticed the highway from the lawn leading the ants to our green can had increased to a federal interstate, so one more liquid bait container is now sitting at their starting point. In just half an hour, the little assholes are all over it. They are still on and inside the green can, but that will come to an end once the bait makes its way into the colony below ground. No problem there. I am overjoyed that I snapped out of the dead mood and took care of some business. I may still do a bit more but needed to research passport renewal on the Internet, so here I am for a little while. Arina has been floating within and drove me to begin a project of taking notes on the most significant and stirring sections of the show when Jamie's eyes look amazing. All of it is in the sixth season. I believe at least two episodes are best. All in all, this afternoon has turned on its ear, thank the maker.
The evening is close, like less than an hour away. I am looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the time and dinner preparations with an accomplished feeling inside. That is always good. I have chicken marinating and intend to grill it in a few hours. I'll have to switch shows very soon to change the atmosphere over to evening mode. I really went on about a lack of ambition and all of the wasted time in the past. The truth is those thoughts can cripple me at present. There are so many old clichés and words of wisdom which have been handed down through generations that I nearly cringe at the realization that I have become a walking, talking representation of the entire mess. Clichés are clichés for a reason, being retreaded and rolled over like pavement on the world's busiest highway. I don't like them, yet cannot deny the inherent power in those older generations living through what they did and then attempting to instill wisdom into the young people. I have no children, so things such as wise words and lessons rarely emanate from my maw. No one needs to hear more of it anyway. The fact that my head was driven to go over such crap means I am dwelling. I can't fucking help it. Arina has become such an overpowering realization that the image simply will not fade for any reason. No matter how good I may feel about any series of events, she will always be right there behind my tired eyes. Considering all of the avenues I've either passed or disregarded is difficult now. I feel I've gone nowhere in half a century. Not good by any stretch of the word. 163. And then the other part of her which I hesitate to bring here. This is already bad enough and adding another part of life about which I can do exactly nothing is probably not a good idea. Hmm... Maybe I'll leave it. My first cup of coffee and there went one of the shots which makes me fall down. More are on the way, but the scene in question shows off so much in a matter of seconds that I still can't believe it. All of the words and gushing and everything else barely gleans the depth of this. Throughout the last year -- even just half that time since I went off the deep end like a teenager with a crush -- the entire image of her has consumed my being each time one of those scenes plays out up there. And even though the television in the kitchen is always on when I'm working in there, as soon as I know there is going to be a protracted shot of her big, dark eyes, I dash to the living room to see her on the larger screen. I don't know why this is so powerful. Perhaps something about her older appearance struck me unexpectedly and I have not recovered. I honestly did not feel so much several years ago. At least I recall the first image which caused me to pay attention. That came and went yesterday. All down this entry you can see Cindy, one of the most beautiful, photographed models on this earth, yet my brain continues to drift toward another. Arina? No... But a part of her. And remember, she is not a woman. Think about that. What did I always say years ago? What is Satan? That's right... A frame of reference. God cannot exist without the adversary. Hence, Arina is a frame of reference. She cannot exist without all these holes in me. Arina should have Jamie's eyes but mostly I think she looks more like Cindy. Maybe both. And? Maybe it does not matter in the least. Arina is what I make her. Period. Eh... Maybe I cannot think clearly enough about her to explain. The fact is the paragraph up there gushed even more than anything on the page because I saw that shot again. Plus, this entry has been created over enough time to cover almost the entire series, and I know it for sure because the long scene between her and Edie is mentioned toward the top of the page. That discussion between the two characters is nine episodes from now, meaning I have gone through seventy-seven hours of this program in less than nine days. What the fuck is that? Am I going around and around for only two reasons, or is there something more? I don't know. My love for one character is quite a draw, but there has to be something else, like the comfort I first noticed way back years ago while watching the second show (laserdiscs, believe it or not). It's possible that I have become so familiar (there is that word again) with the story and characters that I may need them in my life, just like the five series' which are often in the background. I could be dependent upon the familiarity. Dependent. I know them. KNOW them. Not good. I love a fictional character. Also not good. Whatever. Who cares? I'll have to keep this pointed toward the title and what that name means. She has been in my head for so long -- differing names over the years, of course, as well as appearance -- that the very idea has become second nature. I wouldn't even begin to know how to live any other way. All of it... Embedded as a part of me. In my very cells. That is why I decided to craft this long essay and try to convey how and why this woman is befitting my state of mind along with the fact that she changes as I do. Each day which passes adds a little something to the pile, she alters her stance as representing everything missing in my universe, and then the whole thing starts again the following morning. Every day. I had to place Arina here and distinguish her from any other artificial woman or symbol ever described on this site. Even Jaime the fictional, mechanical server/lover/whatever that I gushed about in those long stories and felt I could not be happy without. Now? She is on the back burner due to the importance of understanding myself and working through how I became the person sitting here right now. Arina is all of it, as I have said. That is why she will always be unattainable. Because of all my dreams and wishes. I see John Costelloe up there on the screen right now. He was fantastic. Voice, eyes, appearance, and demeanor as the character. All excellent. A few weeks ago I sought other work John may have done before or since, instead learning that he took his own life not long after this episode was shot. Unbelievable, but one never knows. There she is again, sans makeup. The eye treatment does not make her eyes larger. They are already amazing, sad or otherwise. I'm going to have to do something different today. I don't know of what that may be, just the feeling that I cannot continue to repeat things. I need a change. If Arina is going to follow me at every step, perhaps the knowledge that I have not changed and am suffering as a result can shove an idea into my head. I guess I'll have to push this morning. This is not a work day for her, meaning I will not have the house to myself until maybe an hour before noon, but that is also a good thing. It means I can push the routine out a few hours instead of having everything finished too early and losing my way. I'm certain Arina would agree. Oh, I forgot... Not real. Nothing good is real.
"Compared with the everyday reality of sex and emotion, our fantasies of gratification are pompous and solemn in the extreme. For desire is like Christmas: It always promises more than it delivers." -- Lee Siegel
God damn it there she is again. I forgot about this scene. Crap anyway. Huge eyes. Have I mentioned that? I may have to cut this off soon. The points made are beginning to run together and I'll lose my way. I don't even know where everything began. There is always some sort of finality at the end of each entry but right now I am at a loss as to a close. Arina was the thing. She did not appear until pretty far into the text, yet her foothold now is powerful and permanent. The other side of the coin is where do I go from here? Knowing is often the battle, but now feels as an infantile beginning. There may be nothing I can do anymore. More of the same is all that will follow. Well, more images, too."
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