The static navigation bar is operational. The Clodmaster link has returned, as have the contact,
legal notices, and 'about' sections. There may be some minor tweaking to the bar in the near future, but otherwise
it is here to stay.
"A helmet and face shield will not help you now.
'And I wanted to be as I had been yesterday, a boy again, without the heaviness of doubt, this pressing fear,
this new treachery that lifted to realms of singing gold, and in a little space, flung to pits of night.'
Now what the fuck do I do? I suppose the cream will have to be picked up before mid-morning or my cocktail
may be absent from the kitchen work. I saw faces in the sky as the cloud patterns and lighting changed. Faces.
They looked to each other and I tried to capture the details and color. Everything was bluish, like the sun
was off to the south on a Winter evening. I saw two faces and went out of my mind to grab images of them up
there, huge and foreboding. And then someone else was with me and I tried to express the importance of shooting
pictures of what was up in the sky. He seemed unimpressed, so I went back the other way and saw four faces,
like from a movie poster. The first two faces were different... Softer somehow. Emotional. Staring at each
other. The four were all looking down at the world blankly. I know not why, but the idea of raising my phone
as the clouds moved became of dire importance. I had to capture the two faces in such a way so as to retain
what I was feeling upon first sight. Slowly everything moved about the sky until the first two faces returned
and the moment was there... Click. Ideal colors, both faces clear, and the surrounding clouds in a circle as
if to frame them for all time. There it was, the moment I wished to keep forever. And I grabbed it just in
time. Looking up at the sky again showed me everything was gone. I felt as if I shot the picture of a lifetime.
Awake, loss, sadness. It carries on right now nearly an hour later. Something important was in that image and
I will never know.
Garbage trucks. Thumbs up to those guys. Gangsters on the television again, too.
'There is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it
well enough.'
After all this time I have to make a massive change and show others that everything which has shaped me into
this mess is not a fucking joke.
Not knowing.
'For it is discomfort's own essence to be near a man and to feel him in torture of misery, to feel with him
the very pain of the misery, and yet to be unable to help.'
There are several possible causes for such worry, not the least of which is my past. All the way back to the
fucking eighties was I subjected to insensitivity. From time to time, no matter where I lived nor those with
whom I spent my time, cuts took place. There was a period in which I was feeling very confident at work and
others had commented upon my demeanor. Very nice, to a point. Inside me the memories still resounded and caused
difficulty. In the last entry I mentioned a situation with my coworker in which I was slighted in the extreme,
and from that point forward the way others viewed me had been at odds with my confidence. None of it really
stops, ever. And don't point a finger at me and state what is my own fault, either. I already know everything
and will not entertain criticism. The causes notwithstanding, I only see the same from here on in. No matter
the definitions, the facets will not dim nor cease. The way I am right now sitting here at the keyboard is
the way I will be for as long as I last.
'How green was my valley then, and the valley of them that have gone.'
We rollin'.
'Hard it is to suffer through stupid people. They make you feel sorry for them, and if your sorrow is as great
as your hurt, you will allow them to go free of punishment, for their eyes are the eyes of dogs that have done
wrong and know it, and are afraid.'
[One little aside before the bad part of the story. My audio system comprised six channels, and one of our
clients at the lab was a liaison for Monster Cable. I did some work for him on a Saturday (side work, really),
and he repaid me by bringing a six-channel set of THX-certified interconnects at the perfect length for my
system. This was at a time when THX equipment and processing was at an all-time high, and the set of cables
was a prototype that could not yet be purchased.]
I told that story as an example of why I am the way I am these days. The music became more harsh over a very
long period and now others do not understand the motivation. Consider that the violation of my precious car
was but a few years after my becoming completely disillusioned with society in general and the nature of people
in particular. Before moving across the country, I had been seeking some sort of 'out' in order to be far from
most people, or at least as many as possible for the time. I made tentative plans to get the fuck away and
continued to refine them depending upon the circumstances. Even after heading to the Midwest, the instinct to
flee the mass was very strong and did not let up until I settled back into the comfort of home two years later.
Everything contributed to my near-constant dissatisfaction and disgust with the manner in which the wheels of
progress rolled over all which was important to me. Ceaseless, just like the rest of life's pitfalls.
'How can there be fury felt for things that are gone to dust?'
That question has already been answered.
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