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March 23rd, 2021 8:50am pdt

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Drawn Fault

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"3-21.

The brunch was fine aside from more references to the past. I really didn't need them, however I cannot tell others what they will and will not say in my presence. I sat there and listened. I tried to maintain an even keel no matter what took place. For the most part it was fine. Finished my work here, relaxed a bit, and then the appointment for the new phone in the afternoon. That went well. Back here again for the remainder of the day.

And then dreams this morning, one of which I can't describe. All up in arms now. Like yesterday trying to find something on the television that will not cause problems, my brain is conjuring all manner of trouble. I believe today will be the first in which I need to let a few things fly. I don't know for sure, but the idea seems a good one right now. The only part of the day out of my control will be finishing the sink project and maybe having a snack over there. The morning and evening will be completely fixed in the manner I need. After brunch yesterday, I really do not need any more reminders of all that has been changed in ten years (or more). Soon I may be at the reckless point. The one dream I cannot go into is along those lines. Didn't need that crap, either.

So, once again I tried to keep my head together during a trying situation while it imploded here and there during the day. The effort mostly paid off, I suppose. Thoughts are still inside me even this morning. I just can't help it. And then the dream pretty much cemented everything and left me longing for something to relieve the concern over my future. There seems little possibility of anything coming along down the road which can help. I sit here, consider everything on and off all day every day, and then worry about my current circumstance and where my brain may drive me in the future if nothing changes. Nearly four weeks ago there was a moment... Something came to pass that has forced me to realize the intrinsic values within and how they can influence a person's thinking patterns. Just like twice last year, one little phrase sent me into the deepest thinking and consideration in quite some time. Now? Everything is clearer than just one day back. Add to that the brunch and my brain being wrung out over two unrelated problems, and the resulting pit this morning is worse than that of eleven. That's right... One of the worst, down and hurtful periods ever. And now it's been matched to the point of destroying me.

Unclear? Yes. I am the only person with knowledge of what took place in the cave during those many months. Yes, I realize the trips to the goblet and such have been laid out, but they are a mere fraction of the year.

I'll probably lose my shit for a while today.

First were the cut lines then just lines. Afterward I tried to draw a fucking line, and now the only line left is underneath my feet. The others are gone, especially the cut lines which I actually saw in person. That's right... In front of my eyes so long ago. Now I am left to nothing more than thoughts. Left. Bereft.

Today will be whatever I make of it. Three hours from now I will head over there and finish the work. We will probably catch up a bit and have something to eat. Before leaving the house I will try to get as much done as possible to free up the later afternoon. Garbage and a smidgen of laundry. I am going to leave the clothing rack project for the weekdays. And I'll have to come up with other ideas to keep myself busy. The alternative is hideous and will result in the damned few people left in my life pissed off. Busy is good. Hopefully I can make it out the other end of this day without flipping my fucking cork.



cathouse entry


Each morning around this time I get up to refill the coffee and step outside for a cigarette. I look around the yard and toward the garage and consider what can be done. At some point I realize all I did not do the day before, yet I was out there thinking just the same. A year of this. Some projects have either been advanced or even completed, but considering the amount of time which has passed, few have been as such. I need to move forward and try to leave the inside worry alone. That is not easy. The idea seems to be worsening each day as the broken parts continue to worsen due to everything I see and hear. And then everything becomes coupled with what is missing. At some point I must take a figurative left turn. I just don't know how to go about it. I am weakened and rarely can relax about the issues.

A fracture.

Ever since that Goddamned therapist in Pleasanton many years ago I have considered her words. She was a product of the same society as everyone else. Her phrasing could have been much more sensitive, although I am fairly certain she had no idea the weight of what took place. I still blame her for a small part of the way I think, though. She was unfair. The idea of that woman having lived in and been influenced by the world seems to help when I recall the session. Yes, I blame her, but not entirely. Sometimes people do not know how another person may react to certain types of conversation. That was our first meeting and she knew almost nothing of me. The slam arrived mere minutes into our time. From that point forward, my intention was to leave at my convenience and not return. Eventually I sought help elsewhere and shortly thereafter gave up. Now I have all of it built up inside -- and I mean all the way back to the late eighties right up to and including last year -- and do not know what to think or how to proceed. She was definitely a part of this. I will avoid going into the research and such from the last few months. That went nowhere because I simply read and thought. There is no one off which to bounce my thoughts. I am far too fragile now.

The glaring possibility is that too much has transpired for me to successfully repair myself. I can't let anyone in and I damned-near can't stand to think any longer; the cherry on top being Ashley's words.

She is gone like all of the others.

I have to focus today. Sunday means garbage along with the usual business. I usually set a time as a goal for finishing everything before relaxing and working on more enjoyable things. Today will likely be no different so long as I can keep my head above water. I swear to Christ, one little reference and I'll lose it. Focus. Period. Stop.

3-22, 5:10am. Coffee and Carrie.

The sinks were finished yesterday, after which we went to lunch. Very nice.

Too much thinking after using the bathroom this morning had me up just shy of five. Not too bad. I recall those few mornings in which I was up during the three o'clock hour and by the middle of the afternoon I was too tired to do anything. Hopefully they will not return. I was in bed a little earlier last night which is likely the reason for finding the world awake at this hour. Lots on my mind, too. Yesterday worked out well, although by the late afternoon I was being knocked down by something I still cannot identify. It passed later, but the evening was riddled with speedbumps. There was also much thinking regarding the day, the two, and some of my past, part of which was the reason for my brain working overtime this morning. Thinking of ten-plus years ago did not allow me to fully relax after being up for a few minutes.

I am pleased at today being Monday. The hours ahead appear relaxing and bright. My alone time is going to feel very good in a little while. Chores, consideration of the auctions, and some organization in the old office should fill up my day. I'll probably have either the second show or the gangsters on in the background, too. I have to list one (possibly two) more item and then leave the selling alone for a time. Maybe some laundry, as well. Keeping ahead of it feels good.



suite


Speaking about a road trip during lunch yesterday came about due to my ongoing need to get the hell out of here for a while. Being home this much is not a problem, really, however the road calls from time to time regardless of what is going on in the world or my life. The road is in my blood from youth. That may be part of the reason for my driving to the goblet on occasion. I love the highway, branching off sometimes to see sights, and the feeling of covering ground rather than air. In the past I have been educated about both, my grandfather having held a pilot's license since before I was born and my dad having grown up around those who loved to see history all over the southwest. Sometimes I preferred arriving at my destination quickly (flying) while other times my preference was to stretch out the trip and see the land mile by mile. Well, lately I have been craving a long drive and seeing some things I have not for years. I am hoping that by the end of this year a trip can be worked. I will go alone if necessary, but would love to show others some of the beauty I have seen in the past. The last time I had a plan for a loop around the southwest, the idea was shelved due to being submarined by the purchase of cruise tickets. That will not be allowed to happen again. I need the trip to help build a bridge across this damned crack in my world.

The fucking barren years came up yesterday due to the memory of a conversation a while back which bothered me for a long time. Well, the bother kind of went away. All in the wording, sometimes. I am so fragile these days that many innocent references can break me down quickly and take weeks to repair. Those years are now feeling more acute than at the time. I worked for much of the time -- the same, often arduous job that changed my outlook often -- meaning I had less time to consider the ramifications of such a void in life. The concern over my future began to grow shortly after the Raven period and has not yet come to a head, although I do see an end to the entire shitaree (by my own doing). Now? Thoughts are dire, reckless, and demanding. The fucking understanding which came about due to two specific women in the past is still a problem and likely will be for my remaining days. If so, I am going to be in a very bad mood. The fact that I cannot describe the little situations that take place here and there and leave a lasting impression on me causes more shit to stay bottled up and piled atop all of the worry over everything. This is not good. The understanding must come about in the future or I will lash in whatever direction or toward whomever happens to be standing before me.

This is what those years have birthed.

Attached to any already-fucking-impossible situation and mindset are a few aspects of the two which I cannot seem to shake, no matter the effort or learning. Again -- and I have said this enough lately -- something is missing inside me. I don't know what it is or where it went, but the resulting, aging person who used to be vital, positive and alive is suffering because of the absence. Did I mention angry? Last night was an enormous example of a vast chasm across which a bridge cannot be built. I believe the more I dream, the more the fault shifts and leaves all of the wondrous parts of life moving away on the other side. Last night I had two issues absolutely driving nails into my head but no resolution will ever come to pass. I stood there and watched the dreams moving away at a snail's pace, yet I was helpless to stop or ever slow the motion. Impossible situation. I am becoming pretty damned pissed off. And that is yet ANOTHER fucking facet... No matter what I think or believe, nor how fucking angry I am, there is nothing I can do. And I can't even spell it out. Splendid. Hence the days washing themselves down the waste line of life.

Eh... Today again. I need to keep in mind that there are still little things over which I hold control. That thought brings a touch of comfort, at least. A touch. The fact is I remain in this little house most of the time because outside the door is a mass of people that may or may not have the collective intelligence and sense to realize each is not the most important person in existence and all this shit was not specifically designed for their comfort. In here? My comfort, and the only place in the world I feel I can comment upon as to being just for me. Those people out there are dangerous to both themselves and others, yet they rarely see it or care if they do. Believe me, the apathy has run rampant in the last two decades and appears to be logarithmic. Remaining inside this small space and doing what I can for survival is paramount to remaining safe. And I am not talking about the fucking virus again, only my knowledge of people and the way they think. A single fucking opinion is far more dangerous than a pandemic. Well, it usually begins in half a mind and eventually becomes a pandemic of sorts. This is why the world is so fucked up at present.

Even trying to write about what I will attempt today ends up a bitch session. Nice. And pause.



aurora


8:10am. Alone for hours. Laundry going. Floors done.

Coffee, still.

The remainder of this day is going to be quite haphazard due to the amount of crap swirling in my head this morning. I'll have to keep my head up and focus upon the work. Oy God there is Jamie. Whatever. Anyway, I have small items to chip away and some planning for the old office. If the sun makes an appearance and heats the garage a bit, I can work out there, too. Hopefully I will not drop off after lunch like last week. I simply cannot have that shit anymore. Three auctions going now, one of which is doing very well and ends tomorrow.

The laundry needs to be finished early just in case the gardeners come today. I need to have the line disconnected. I might split the long line in half, as well. That way the entire length can be stored and out of the way.

I don't know what to do about any of the shit these days. Everything is getting worse as time goes by and I haven't come up with a single coping method. Nothing. The only saving throw I have these days is to either keep busy (not always that great) or embrace the shrinking enjoyments (still better than nothing). As far as a long-term solution? Your guess is as good as mine. Too many years have passed and caused the smallest details to enlarge uncontrollably. Just as this shit society seems to be desensitized beyond belief, I have moved in the opposite direction... Hypersensitive to far too much. I do not see a way around or through. Stop.

3-23, nearer to the end of everything. I've said it before. Completely broken now.

Bad things.

The media had me over a barrel again yesterday. I'm so tired of it. I suppose the only way to be completely empty of those possibilities is to cut everything off, but I can't do that. I'll have to figure a way to get past the moments and allow myself to relax and enjoy the entertainment. This morning is showing me a movie from the glowing years which is rather silly. I am only half paying attention. After yesterday and two slams to my psyche, today may be a lash of sorts. I don't know yet because my physiological condition has my head preoccupied much of the time. I just don't feel very well these days.

The only positive about yesterday is the clothing rack. Despite my physical health seemingly declining lately, I crafted and mounted the whole thing. I then strung some line through the attic and ran a manual test of the rack being raised to horizontal. Everything works fine, as I had hoped. The next step is to power the line and pulleys so it is automated, then implement the ability to detach the line when the rack is lowered. Powering is not necessary, yet I have the material and it is a project. Better than everything else in my life at this point. All my dreams are floating away. Out of reach, and soon out of my mind completely.

The auctions are going fairly well, one in particular. That will replenish the account so I can either pull the cash or sit on it as necessary. I'll have to come up with more shit for listing soon, too. I would like to keep the flow going as long as possible. Any fucking thing which has the power to put a smile on my face is now fucking dire. After yesterday and then last night, I need something. Anything. The reasons are running low.



cathouse interior


I'll admit I watched the gangsters for most of the day, and while in the garage I had the sound on to follow each story. The fact is one of the ending sequences rips me to shreds inside. I mentioned the triumvirate a while back (even went so far as to recommend calling it the quad), and two of the three are centered and driven by the past. I recall Gloria's words during a dream sequence: 'I never had children. I died too young'. Well, I am still here, but the slam is almost too much as I age each day. That is one. Another is heritage, and since the show is centered upon a certain culture, my senses are inundated by imagery, references, and language which also permeated my own past, yet in the end none of it relates to me. Not anymore. That was a bunch of shit. Now? I feel horrible about both. When the third spoke of this wheel of shit swings around and strikes me upside the head, I am seeing less and less reason to do anything. Work, eat, sleep... Why? Where am I going to end up? A better place? Will my past change? Will I spontaneously morph into someone else? Will any of those three problems go away? Fuck no. If you answered anything other than 'no' you are either lying or patronizing and I will not accept it. Kiss my ass.

I have to change the gas flex on the fucking furnace. It decided to whistle sometimes, and I have no idea of why. Just another pain. I'll fix the fucking thing.

I am not in a very good mood this morning. Nose all fucked up, feeling as if there is little point in my trying to enjoy anything, and pretty fucking sick of what I have become since last year. I am still a good person, but I did this.

Wow. I have the entire day before me, already took care of the floor and litter boxes, and now I have plenty of time for whatever I wish to accomplish. Jesus God, she is something. Jamie again. Doesn't matter. I see her because the gangsters are on again. Almost to the end of the series, so I'll be switching to something a bit more family-friendly in a short while. Only a few episodes left and that means the switch will take place later today. Child of the seventies... The television is my friend.

The triumvirate is pushing me into a very dark place. Ever since I took down all of the provocative imagery in the garage last year I've felt more inclined toward where I was during eleven, or at least a portion of that fateful year. I never had any images of the female form on the walls in the cave, only memories and symbolism which felt important. At some point I pulled much of it and shoved everything in the closet in favor of some darkness and colored lighting. I closed off the outside world and kept to myself nearly all of the time. That was a very bad period in which I felt I could not survive without her support and attention. I had pushed too much, basically shoving her away with my insecurity and paranoia. There was nothing I could do during each day and night which had the power to take away worry. I am concerned in a different way these days, and just since last night I've realized the three forces are going to ruin me. I will be very unpleasant and closed off again just like eleven. I have been streamlining my possessions, too... As I did back then. I don't see an end or resulting situation now, however. In those days the only option was very bad and I no longer wish for the same thing. There is honestly nothing on the horizon which can drive me up. I'll be reduced to a fraction of myself.

Three aspects of life which bring me joy. One is gone, the second is waning, and the third can be quite damaging. All I have left.

283.

She is inside."



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