April 26th, 2021 9:20am pdt The newer archive of entries has been altered. The titles are now in groups of ten to more easily follow the list. Storm Cycle read ( words) "4-22. I don't understand the world anymore. Hence the world I created in this house for only me. The level of need for my own space has risen since Friday last due to everything already described here. The only change I can see on the horizon may be that job in a few months. Otherwise I will remain right here. Going to restaurants or shopping for necessities are the only reasons for me to be outside. As other people are still gearing up and wishing to live with loosened restrictions -- and happy to do it -- I seem to be regressing back into last year. I am not worried about the virus, only people. I just don't know how the world became like this and I don't like it. I am beginning to feel as I did during the latter half of the glow, when my dislike for the herd mentality first began. Just a few years later I was writing about the effects of so much greed and apathy, and then not long after (around zero eight, I believe) was when I really became disgusted with people and their behavior. Some of that may have been due to my long commute and the idea that personalities tend to surface through the manner in which people handle their vehicles on the roadways. I'm not sure now, but I recall easing up on the world after moving and shortening my drive by nearly half. I believe the planning began while I worked at the parts house -- one of those periods I need to scrutinize and consider noting more often because much happened while in that situation. There had also been some time working swing at the glass plant around those same years. Anyway, the parts house came to mind because I was planning what sort of supplies I would need to bring for a trip to the northern destination. Repair parts, tools, whatever. And I still had my truck for the time being... The vehicle of choice for carrying all my worldly possessions the hell up and out of this place. I was constantly thinking of what may be required for relocating elsewhere permanently. I've already gone around the bend with complaints of people and technology, where we seem to be headed and the like, so I am going to avoid more of the same, instead focusing upon why I feel the way I do and possibly ideas for easing the difficulty. There is only so much I can do here these days. Another set of options or a different avenue leading to a better state of mind has to take priority right now. I am not doing well. Storm is coming. In the Midwest I sort of felt as if we were out in the middle of nowhere due to being so far from town. Never before had I resided at such a distance from city streets or been so detached from the other houses in the neighborhood. We were out there a ways, and roughly three miles from the nearest town of only six hundred. The idea of being out of California and partially self-sufficient there was just what I needed in order to continue being a part of this society without losing my shit. There was much more to the feeling, but for now I will try to leave out the mushy stuff. I spent a lot of time staring out at the empty space and marveling at being in the middle of nowhere. In reality we were roughly eight minutes from the city, though. The flatland seemed vast. I still had my plan, and the only alteration was the starting point for driving to that same destination, which from the Midwest became a few hundred miles further. No worries. I felt that if the decision was made to cut and run, the number of miles was unimportant. My main concern was being unavailable to everyone. The climate was new to me and felt like training for heading north and dealing with more of the same. Eh... Fuck this subject anyway. The fact is the storm is in my head. Very soon I am going to lose it completely and cease interacting with as many parts of life as possible. If the comfort in the evening and my sense of taste are truly going away, I will adjust my waking hours in order to take advantage of those times when both are available. If I cannot deal with the two any longer, I'll have to adjust other behaviors. No one is going to find me terribly personable. The front approaches. I am fucking tired of everything. No matter the scope of personal relationships or connections which are deeply felt, each of us is responsible for ourselves. No one else. People disappear constantly. Deal with it. And then fucking deal with yourselves. Harsh? You don't know the half. I am regressing further into the impossible, dreamy life with those family members. Mine are all gone, nothing much is satisfying in life any longer, and the errant happy ending would prove the opposite if given life. I just don't know what else to do anymore. They are up there right now, and as each story plays out I begin to formulate my place in that universe. All the issues would disappear, I would not need to worry about the future, and whatever dreams which cannot become real would be there for the taking. Comfort, always, and with those who would be understanding beyond comprehension. I have loved the other world for many years. This new one is taking over due to my familiarity to all of their lives. And don't give me a blast of shit for wanting such a dream. This is mine. Anyone pushing against my words or fantasy can take a flying leap. I need them and will continue placing myself in that little corner of the grand scheme for as long as I wish. Fuck off... I see no other way. At least I'm not putting myself in a mansion with some electromechanical mystery goddess. Today is Thursday. I already took care of a few things but hesitate to go further because she is sleeping right down the hall. Cats, too. The house is very quiet aside from the story playing out up on the screen. My morning cocktail is next to me as well. I intend to take it easy most of the day because my head is all fucked up over someone very close to me being out of sorts, to put it mildly. I care for her, and knowing she is having much difficulty means I will be perpetually preoccupied in the extreme. My garage crap is going to sit for the time being, too. Until such time as the sun makes an appearance (haven't seen hide nor hair of the damned thing for days), I must remain inside. There is always plenty to do in the house anyway, so I'll pass the time as necessary for my comfort and care for what I am able. Hmm... One cat milling around now. I can't deny the fucking storm. I have been having problems ever since one episode of the show which quickly and clearly combined two fucking fears into one series of shots which took my breath away. And not in a good way, either. The problem became three-fold very soon after first watching such a shit show. I don't fucking need that right now and it will not leave my head no matter what I try. There was a problem some years ago during a very different show on a very different channel which we had been following. I overheard something after several episodes (next to me, not on the television), and began to file it away with a few jabs from the past. Soon after, I overheard comments about a person on the screen (not the same person) and filed that away. Well, the two incidents did not originate from the same mouth, but two which until that point in time had been unrelated and vastly different. The commonality drove me to analyze every fucking situation which related to what took place and I quickly drew a conclusion. Keep in mind that said conclusion has affected many aspects of media with which I have been familiar for a very long time. Now they look bad. So, the episode originally brought up here aired recently and reinforced everything mentioned above, plus added a facet I do not wish to describe. Moreover, the intrinsic difficulty with the show continued as a separate component... Something I suspected would take place even days before ever playing the fucking pilot. Putting all this shit together is a part of the storm. Too bad I can't go into detail. Anyone reading this would have a fucking field day with the wording and finally learn just how weak and fearful I have become. Hmm... Maybe one day soon I will gush everything to a waiting pair of ears just to give myself the necessary push into the cemetery. What do you think? Do I matter? Do my feelings matter? Does the fact that I am so frightened matter? Write it all down, fold the paper, and shove it far enough up your ass to ensure the answers never leave. I can't live a single day without seeing and hearing that episode play out in my head. One more little stab to my heart. The underlying fear of everything came up the other day while outside the restaurant and I am still berating myself for touching upon the subject in the first place. I gleaned it and then said too much. The fact is I did not go overly far and there is still a ton being held back. When I need to keep others out? They stay the fuck out. Believe it. There is a flip side, too. The exact opposite may be taking place but there is nothing I can do about it. My massive, cemented double-standard disallows any discussion on the subject due to me being so fucking out of balance and critical of others. The control should have been the first fucking clue. When there is a lack of the same? I tend to become even more threatened. There may be no way out of this shit, especially considering the fact that the tiniest smidgen of a reference tends to remain at the head of the line for days... Or longer. I am still carrying shit from the fucking eighties. Nice. If you know of a method for eliminating some of the baggage, by all means send an email. Shit situation, this current era. Switch. Well, the fucking kit I purchased at great expense is not like the last one. We were able to work on separate assemblies and then mate them at certain points, meaning we could build at the same time from two different manuals. This one is not the same. Everything is in line and built from beginning to end as one big project. Now I have nothing to do after dreaming of another few days like the previous machine. Nope. Whatever. I don't expect to be happy anyway. Switch back. I can't stand thinking about the relationship between what took place and was clearly identified years ago and more recent problems. Not just one film, but several, the worst of which nearly had me recommending yet another due to the cast. Well, suffice to say that is not going to happen, ever. Prior to the first discovery and pile of information, I had no idea there could be such a draw. It just never occurred to me. After multiple stabs throughout a period of months, I am at a loss more than ever. Knowing what goes on inside (just a bit, make no mistake) means my head went around the film industry and sought other examples of the same issue. The major downside is that I have cut off certain aspects of entertainment as a result of feeling very threatened. And one of them is overwhelmingly harsh and cutting. We discussed it at length and there can be no resolution any longer. A huge accomplishment for the artists and a gigantic influence in my life has been turned on its ear and destroyed through memories and conversation. Is it the worst? No, I don't believe so, but the bottom line is one leads to another and then another. Just like that fucking magazine all those years back, there is now much more burning me alive. I was not expecting this shit. Considering my love for the industry, one would think I had the ability to get around anything troubling due to the wonder I still hold for the process of filmmaking. Well, I suppose it's just too fucking bad. 4-23. Once again last night, very little sense of taste. One of three... Heading out the door. Hours ahead to myself. I have the usual stuff to do plus a few other things. The watch auction listing is built and ready to go live. Today being Friday means I may take it easy somewhat. Lots on my mind right now. Yesterday I had the idea to refine my motorized rack plan in the garage so I relocated the unit overhead and ran some tests. Without the drag of three pulleys routing the cord to the opposite side of the garage, the motor does not labor as much. I have a bearing and shaft coming from McMaster to smooth the rotation as much as possible. Also, the counterweight does not need to be so heavy. For testing, I attached a beer can full of water and it seemed to help. That may also be a nice conversation piece once everything is operational. The momentary switch will make testing easier. Sometime next week I should have all the parts. Recently I mentioned that the two had been taking a back seat to other problems, but I now believe it is still at the top of the list and the most difficult issue in my life. There are peaceful periods, however. Most days it is in the background and does not flare badly. The media is primarily what will drive it to full attention, along with those three little incidents which have cemented the phrase in the theatre from more than twenty years ago. When that took place I thought about it from time to time and only after other problems arose did it really cause me distress. The fact is I cannot deny the power. Not even close. I do not possess the strength to rise above and/or push it away and minimize what my imagination creates as a result of anything which comes along as a reminder. Yes, I said imagination. I do not know what is going on in there, so I can only work within. That discussion the other day really slammed me back and now I am even more guarded than before the words came forth. I am embarrassed, and such a fact is dangerous. Believe me, embarrassment or perceived weakness are dual situations which can actually outweigh the two. They are aftereffects, yet still frightening. After almost any conversation, I end up living through the remainder of a given day in very bad shape. My head lets go of exactly nothing. A cyclone of worry. 'Storm' is not an apt descriptor. Much of this fucked up situation is my doing as driven by decades of lacking things inside and occasional jabs at my confidence. The combination is now overwhelming and leaving me feeling smaller than I ever have. All the way back to the eighties have I seen examples of either uncaring or unfeeling behavior from others which have had a lasting effect upon how I view myself and society. And I am not speaking of those ridiculous comments which come forth in an effort to boost a person's self-esteem at the expense of someone else. I only refer to what seem to be words and actions born of a lack of the same. That may sound convoluted, but the fact remains I have discussed this with a number of people in the past and no one seems to understand outside my own lack of confidence (and that is yet another vast subject which limits me and creates more problems than I care to mention here). Not everything is my fucking fault. Yes, I can be unreasonable and controlling. I already know it so don't fucking push. I did not ask to be in the center of the fucking storm at my age. There may be no recovery whatsoever. Splendid. Those jabs were not pleasant, yet if I am to spout all day about being myself and 'don't tell me to change', the flip side is I cannot ask the same of other people. I have to be fair. The only defense I had years ago was to bring up the subject afterward and try to understand. Most of the time I received an apology which then propelled my head downward because I felt like I had been asking too much. No solutions. Only problems. Ugh fuck me anyway. Why do I sit here week after week, month after month and try to solve anything? I feel like I've been wasting my time for no good reason. Perhaps I need to cut off the world. I don't fucking know. Storm cycle, apparent. 4-24. Dreaming of monsters is not fun, although I seemed to have help wherever we were. Like a giant slug, lime green, slithering all over the place and seemingly threatening, and leaving little pieces of itself here and there which we had to burn, lest they rejoin the bad guy and make it larger. Some big parking lot for a while, and then the streets. Buildings all around. The details were many but have since faded some. One cat's paw out of the bag? Perhaps two. This is not good. I made an irreversible mistake and now am on analytical overload. Not a moment has passed in eighteen hours in which I have not considered the circumstances and gravity of what took place. As I said, irreversible. There is nothing I can do about it now. Another person altering themselves for my benefit is unacceptable and makes me feel even weaker than I do on my own. I do realize that some who care for each other naturally adapt in certain ways in order to ensure happiness and some kind of compatibility. Perfectly understandable, right? Well, this is different. I just can't have it. The storm arrived just a few minutes after I realized what I had initiated. There is no going back, meaning this storm is now perpetual in nature. A change of subject is needed. In a little while I will be carried to the big box hardware for some lumber. The gentleman who stored his bike here for nearly a year offered to bring me there anytime I need large items which will not fit in my family car. This is very nice of him. The motorcycle may be gone, but we are still in contact. Hopefully that will continue after he and his wife move back to the Midwest in July or so. I have been waiting to haul lumber here since last summer. Without a truck, and considering I have very little contact with others, anything oversize is difficult to acquire without significant cost. For him to help me today is nothing, but it means a lot to me. The material I'll pick up is going to enable all sorts of projects, including advancing the clothing rack design. This means I'll have lots to do in the coming months. If the job comes through, everything will move back to the weekends. I don't want to go back to that other topic, damn it. So much damage caused by one little conversation. Almost time to leave. 4-26. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I'm still reeling from the bullshit the other day. It began to fade a bit but returned at the beginning of a movie of my choice yesterday. I knew at the outset that I'd have a tough time, but often the film is worth it. And I have probably said that before. Risk versus reward. One of the toughest, too. Well, the story is better and I made it just fine. The previous problem will never go away. I already know it, and I need to hear more references to that shit like I need a knife in my fucking brain. Any little jab is going to meet with a wall which no one will enjoy. Morning time. I still have coffee, too. I plan to sit here and rest my back for a while since I did not get a chance to work with the graphics much yesterday. The time is available and fuck everything else right now. Taking care of myself is often overlooked in favor of others, but now my focus must be me. We picked up some lumber and brackets yesterday for more garage work. I can't believe how expensive lumber has become since last year. Unreal. I was not able to get everything, so I stuck to the most important which are the posts to support rafters. The rest of my ideas are all little improvements here and there. Not a big deal that I have to push them out further. The ride to the store and back was nice, too. We caught up a bit and spoke of the future. Overall not bad. Afterward I was able to get some Sunday business finished so we could have some television time. One episode and a long movie. The entire time I had the issues right behind my eyes yet held it together anyway. The sun is shining. Maybe it will continue all day and heat this little house. That shit on Saturday altered my outlook quite a bit more than I had originally feared. Two days later and I am looking at other facets affected and thinking that regardless of how I feel about spouting too much information, the bottom line may be the ability to push a little. Sometimes a situation will take place and force me to look at all sides of the problem. It is happening now. Rather than simply backing off and wallowing as I've done in the past, I can keep my head up and be just unpleasant enough to get the point across. I don't even need to raise my voice. The fear and other shit is still there, however. It will never go away because too much of my life and living have been dictated and paths drawn by the same. This is how I am and will always be. The difficulty lies in maintaining such a stance without eventually softening. I can't have that. In the past I let the concern for people creep in slowly and move me away from the importance of following a path created out of disdain and disgust. Of all the shit I try to organize these days, many parts of each week can be eased a little if I remain upset to a point. That may sound ridiculous, but anger can simplify many situations. Boiling them down, if you will. I guess we shall see forsooth. I am not doing well at all. Saturday was a huge failure on my part. I may not get over it, ever. Gushing like that out of weakness and fear is never good and will solve nothing. The only odd part of the whole thing is that I am not berating myself as much as I would have years ago, but then I didn't feel as strongly in the past, either. I don't know what this is going to do long term. I just don't fucking know. Today? This moment? Not happy. I suppose today I will do the usual stuff and enjoy whatever I can. A bit of planning in the garage for the posts, too. The one auction I've been hesitating to list might have to be done soon. I need the flexibility right now. Breathing room, really. That is but one little aspect of the whole period. There is a load of other things I can work with to advance the time. Nothing crazy, though. I have to keep my back in mind. Very uncomfortable even now just sitting on the sofa. I don't know what I did this morning to affect the movement, but some combination of motions really stabbed me. Care must be taken now. As usual, lots of future consideration is on tap, too. Oy God damn, another little thing I wanted to do but forgot. Eh... You know. Happy, and all that shit. I don't know where anything is going right now. The days are all running together -- bleeding into one another -- and I can't seem to steady myself enough to form sentences anymore. One day I am sitting here with coffee and trying to collate everything I need to say, and the next second is two weeks later with me doing exactly the same thing (probably using the same fucking words, too). The fact that I was fool enough to let slip the 'dogs of words' makes me think that perhaps I am not strong enough to work it off. The deed is done and a little light has been seen as the door of my life cracked a sliver. I moved it. No one else. Just because at times the fucking frustration with the mechanisms of the world needs a swift shot upside its head does not mean I am the person to do it. And taking this out on another person is unacceptable and unfair. No one else is at fault. A few years ago I saw a portion of something which caused me to be fearful and then it was clearly confirmed on Saturday. Again... No one's fault. Just facts. The idea that some things have become universal also reinforces what took place in late ten before one of the worst feelings in memory. This is very similar. And believe me when I say that the film yesterday did not badly dredge that shit from ten. It really didn't. I have learned to keep the most difficult situations separate from the big picture. The past is definitely not the 'past' as some would be led to believe. It is actually right there and will never go away. The confirmation has bridged my past with the present and slammed the nail in my head with the hammer of the gods. And I thought all the other shit was combining into a storm? Not even close. The cyclone has materialized over the high country of my life and will soon rain down displeasure and sorrow. The anger is all I have left. Un-fucking-fair. The ideas were there... Soon after followed by demonstrations, fabrications, and some of the most elaborate bullshit imaginable, and now the ships have to sail in order to avoid the storm slamming them into the rocks. Ships. Remember what that means? 'That ship has sailed.' Heard that before? It means the fucking chances no longer exist at all and cannot return. Sailed, forced by the winds of hell. Get the fuck out while you have the opportunity, lest the storm affect you. Believe me when I say that all the shit spewed forth in the caverns has returned. Cyclone, disdain, and disgust for what has happened to me as a result of everything. Weak? No. I am strong. Stupid? Nope. I am intelligent. Scared? Not any longer. I am in charge. The only bad part is how people will react to the storm. Roll right over them. Slam one was long ago. Slam two? Shortly thereafter, completely unexpected, yet still stinging and there is nothing I can do about it because everyone is gone. Slam three... Earlier this year and something also unexpected. Now I don't know who I am. Slam four has been ongoing. What am I supposed to do? Just act like a you-know-what and absorb everything as if the world is peachy? Fuck you. Tell me what the answer is after all that shit, adding the fact that I am losing some of the little things which still bring a smile. Tell me... I fucking dare you. 249." 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
April 26th, 2021 9:20am pdt The newer archive of entries has been altered. The titles are now in groups of ten to more easily follow the list. Storm Cycle read ( words) "4-22. I don't understand the world anymore. Hence the world I created in this house for only me. The level of need for my own space has risen since Friday last due to everything already described here. The only change I can see on the horizon may be that job in a few months. Otherwise I will remain right here. Going to restaurants or shopping for necessities are the only reasons for me to be outside. As other people are still gearing up and wishing to live with loosened restrictions -- and happy to do it -- I seem to be regressing back into last year. I am not worried about the virus, only people. I just don't know how the world became like this and I don't like it. I am beginning to feel as I did during the latter half of the glow, when my dislike for the herd mentality first began. Just a few years later I was writing about the effects of so much greed and apathy, and then not long after (around zero eight, I believe) was when I really became disgusted with people and their behavior. Some of that may have been due to my long commute and the idea that personalities tend to surface through the manner in which people handle their vehicles on the roadways. I'm not sure now, but I recall easing up on the world after moving and shortening my drive by nearly half. I believe the planning began while I worked at the parts house -- one of those periods I need to scrutinize and consider noting more often because much happened while in that situation. There had also been some time working swing at the glass plant around those same years. Anyway, the parts house came to mind because I was planning what sort of supplies I would need to bring for a trip to the northern destination. Repair parts, tools, whatever. And I still had my truck for the time being... The vehicle of choice for carrying all my worldly possessions the hell up and out of this place. I was constantly thinking of what may be required for relocating elsewhere permanently. I've already gone around the bend with complaints of people and technology, where we seem to be headed and the like, so I am going to avoid more of the same, instead focusing upon why I feel the way I do and possibly ideas for easing the difficulty. There is only so much I can do here these days. Another set of options or a different avenue leading to a better state of mind has to take priority right now. I am not doing well. Storm is coming. In the Midwest I sort of felt as if we were out in the middle of nowhere due to being so far from town. Never before had I resided at such a distance from city streets or been so detached from the other houses in the neighborhood. We were out there a ways, and roughly three miles from the nearest town of only six hundred. The idea of being out of California and partially self-sufficient there was just what I needed in order to continue being a part of this society without losing my shit. There was much more to the feeling, but for now I will try to leave out the mushy stuff. I spent a lot of time staring out at the empty space and marveling at being in the middle of nowhere. In reality we were roughly eight minutes from the city, though. The flatland seemed vast. I still had my plan, and the only alteration was the starting point for driving to that same destination, which from the Midwest became a few hundred miles further. No worries. I felt that if the decision was made to cut and run, the number of miles was unimportant. My main concern was being unavailable to everyone. The climate was new to me and felt like training for heading north and dealing with more of the same. Eh... Fuck this subject anyway. The fact is the storm is in my head. Very soon I am going to lose it completely and cease interacting with as many parts of life as possible. If the comfort in the evening and my sense of taste are truly going away, I will adjust my waking hours in order to take advantage of those times when both are available. If I cannot deal with the two any longer, I'll have to adjust other behaviors. No one is going to find me terribly personable. The front approaches. I am fucking tired of everything. No matter the scope of personal relationships or connections which are deeply felt, each of us is responsible for ourselves. No one else. People disappear constantly. Deal with it. And then fucking deal with yourselves. Harsh? You don't know the half. I am regressing further into the impossible, dreamy life with those family members. Mine are all gone, nothing much is satisfying in life any longer, and the errant happy ending would prove the opposite if given life. I just don't know what else to do anymore. They are up there right now, and as each story plays out I begin to formulate my place in that universe. All the issues would disappear, I would not need to worry about the future, and whatever dreams which cannot become real would be there for the taking. Comfort, always, and with those who would be understanding beyond comprehension. I have loved the other world for many years. This new one is taking over due to my familiarity to all of their lives. And don't give me a blast of shit for wanting such a dream. This is mine. Anyone pushing against my words or fantasy can take a flying leap. I need them and will continue placing myself in that little corner of the grand scheme for as long as I wish. Fuck off... I see no other way. At least I'm not putting myself in a mansion with some electromechanical mystery goddess. Today is Thursday. I already took care of a few things but hesitate to go further because she is sleeping right down the hall. Cats, too. The house is very quiet aside from the story playing out up on the screen. My morning cocktail is next to me as well. I intend to take it easy most of the day because my head is all fucked up over someone very close to me being out of sorts, to put it mildly. I care for her, and knowing she is having much difficulty means I will be perpetually preoccupied in the extreme. My garage crap is going to sit for the time being, too. Until such time as the sun makes an appearance (haven't seen hide nor hair of the damned thing for days), I must remain inside. There is always plenty to do in the house anyway, so I'll pass the time as necessary for my comfort and care for what I am able. Hmm... One cat milling around now. I can't deny the fucking storm. I have been having problems ever since one episode of the show which quickly and clearly combined two fucking fears into one series of shots which took my breath away. And not in a good way, either. The problem became three-fold very soon after first watching such a shit show. I don't fucking need that right now and it will not leave my head no matter what I try. There was a problem some years ago during a very different show on a very different channel which we had been following. I overheard something after several episodes (next to me, not on the television), and began to file it away with a few jabs from the past. Soon after, I overheard comments about a person on the screen (not the same person) and filed that away. Well, the two incidents did not originate from the same mouth, but two which until that point in time had been unrelated and vastly different. The commonality drove me to analyze every fucking situation which related to what took place and I quickly drew a conclusion. Keep in mind that said conclusion has affected many aspects of media with which I have been familiar for a very long time. Now they look bad. So, the episode originally brought up here aired recently and reinforced everything mentioned above, plus added a facet I do not wish to describe. Moreover, the intrinsic difficulty with the show continued as a separate component... Something I suspected would take place even days before ever playing the fucking pilot. Putting all this shit together is a part of the storm. Too bad I can't go into detail. Anyone reading this would have a fucking field day with the wording and finally learn just how weak and fearful I have become. Hmm... Maybe one day soon I will gush everything to a waiting pair of ears just to give myself the necessary push into the cemetery. What do you think? Do I matter? Do my feelings matter? Does the fact that I am so frightened matter? Write it all down, fold the paper, and shove it far enough up your ass to ensure the answers never leave. I can't live a single day without seeing and hearing that episode play out in my head. One more little stab to my heart. The underlying fear of everything came up the other day while outside the restaurant and I am still berating myself for touching upon the subject in the first place. I gleaned it and then said too much. The fact is I did not go overly far and there is still a ton being held back. When I need to keep others out? They stay the fuck out. Believe it. There is a flip side, too. The exact opposite may be taking place but there is nothing I can do about it. My massive, cemented double-standard disallows any discussion on the subject due to me being so fucking out of balance and critical of others. The control should have been the first fucking clue. When there is a lack of the same? I tend to become even more threatened. There may be no way out of this shit, especially considering the fact that the tiniest smidgen of a reference tends to remain at the head of the line for days... Or longer. I am still carrying shit from the fucking eighties. Nice. If you know of a method for eliminating some of the baggage, by all means send an email. Shit situation, this current era. Switch. Well, the fucking kit I purchased at great expense is not like the last one. We were able to work on separate assemblies and then mate them at certain points, meaning we could build at the same time from two different manuals. This one is not the same. Everything is in line and built from beginning to end as one big project. Now I have nothing to do after dreaming of another few days like the previous machine. Nope. Whatever. I don't expect to be happy anyway. Switch back. I can't stand thinking about the relationship between what took place and was clearly identified years ago and more recent problems. Not just one film, but several, the worst of which nearly had me recommending yet another due to the cast. Well, suffice to say that is not going to happen, ever. Prior to the first discovery and pile of information, I had no idea there could be such a draw. It just never occurred to me. After multiple stabs throughout a period of months, I am at a loss more than ever. Knowing what goes on inside (just a bit, make no mistake) means my head went around the film industry and sought other examples of the same issue. The major downside is that I have cut off certain aspects of entertainment as a result of feeling very threatened. And one of them is overwhelmingly harsh and cutting. We discussed it at length and there can be no resolution any longer. A huge accomplishment for the artists and a gigantic influence in my life has been turned on its ear and destroyed through memories and conversation. Is it the worst? No, I don't believe so, but the bottom line is one leads to another and then another. Just like that fucking magazine all those years back, there is now much more burning me alive. I was not expecting this shit. Considering my love for the industry, one would think I had the ability to get around anything troubling due to the wonder I still hold for the process of filmmaking. Well, I suppose it's just too fucking bad. 4-23. Once again last night, very little sense of taste. One of three... Heading out the door. Hours ahead to myself. I have the usual stuff to do plus a few other things. The watch auction listing is built and ready to go live. Today being Friday means I may take it easy somewhat. Lots on my mind right now. Yesterday I had the idea to refine my motorized rack plan in the garage so I relocated the unit overhead and ran some tests. Without the drag of three pulleys routing the cord to the opposite side of the garage, the motor does not labor as much. I have a bearing and shaft coming from McMaster to smooth the rotation as much as possible. Also, the counterweight does not need to be so heavy. For testing, I attached a beer can full of water and it seemed to help. That may also be a nice conversation piece once everything is operational. The momentary switch will make testing easier. Sometime next week I should have all the parts. Recently I mentioned that the two had been taking a back seat to other problems, but I now believe it is still at the top of the list and the most difficult issue in my life. There are peaceful periods, however. Most days it is in the background and does not flare badly. The media is primarily what will drive it to full attention, along with those three little incidents which have cemented the phrase in the theatre from more than twenty years ago. When that took place I thought about it from time to time and only after other problems arose did it really cause me distress. The fact is I cannot deny the power. Not even close. I do not possess the strength to rise above and/or push it away and minimize what my imagination creates as a result of anything which comes along as a reminder. Yes, I said imagination. I do not know what is going on in there, so I can only work within. That discussion the other day really slammed me back and now I am even more guarded than before the words came forth. I am embarrassed, and such a fact is dangerous. Believe me, embarrassment or perceived weakness are dual situations which can actually outweigh the two. They are aftereffects, yet still frightening. After almost any conversation, I end up living through the remainder of a given day in very bad shape. My head lets go of exactly nothing. A cyclone of worry. 'Storm' is not an apt descriptor. Much of this fucked up situation is my doing as driven by decades of lacking things inside and occasional jabs at my confidence. The combination is now overwhelming and leaving me feeling smaller than I ever have. All the way back to the eighties have I seen examples of either uncaring or unfeeling behavior from others which have had a lasting effect upon how I view myself and society. And I am not speaking of those ridiculous comments which come forth in an effort to boost a person's self-esteem at the expense of someone else. I only refer to what seem to be words and actions born of a lack of the same. That may sound convoluted, but the fact remains I have discussed this with a number of people in the past and no one seems to understand outside my own lack of confidence (and that is yet another vast subject which limits me and creates more problems than I care to mention here). Not everything is my fucking fault. Yes, I can be unreasonable and controlling. I already know it so don't fucking push. I did not ask to be in the center of the fucking storm at my age. There may be no recovery whatsoever. Splendid. Those jabs were not pleasant, yet if I am to spout all day about being myself and 'don't tell me to change', the flip side is I cannot ask the same of other people. I have to be fair. The only defense I had years ago was to bring up the subject afterward and try to understand. Most of the time I received an apology which then propelled my head downward because I felt like I had been asking too much. No solutions. Only problems. Ugh fuck me anyway. Why do I sit here week after week, month after month and try to solve anything? I feel like I've been wasting my time for no good reason. Perhaps I need to cut off the world. I don't fucking know. Storm cycle, apparent. 4-24. Dreaming of monsters is not fun, although I seemed to have help wherever we were. Like a giant slug, lime green, slithering all over the place and seemingly threatening, and leaving little pieces of itself here and there which we had to burn, lest they rejoin the bad guy and make it larger. Some big parking lot for a while, and then the streets. Buildings all around. The details were many but have since faded some. One cat's paw out of the bag? Perhaps two. This is not good. I made an irreversible mistake and now am on analytical overload. Not a moment has passed in eighteen hours in which I have not considered the circumstances and gravity of what took place. As I said, irreversible. There is nothing I can do about it now. Another person altering themselves for my benefit is unacceptable and makes me feel even weaker than I do on my own. I do realize that some who care for each other naturally adapt in certain ways in order to ensure happiness and some kind of compatibility. Perfectly understandable, right? Well, this is different. I just can't have it. The storm arrived just a few minutes after I realized what I had initiated. There is no going back, meaning this storm is now perpetual in nature. A change of subject is needed. In a little while I will be carried to the big box hardware for some lumber. The gentleman who stored his bike here for nearly a year offered to bring me there anytime I need large items which will not fit in my family car. This is very nice of him. The motorcycle may be gone, but we are still in contact. Hopefully that will continue after he and his wife move back to the Midwest in July or so. I have been waiting to haul lumber here since last summer. Without a truck, and considering I have very little contact with others, anything oversize is difficult to acquire without significant cost. For him to help me today is nothing, but it means a lot to me. The material I'll pick up is going to enable all sorts of projects, including advancing the clothing rack design. This means I'll have lots to do in the coming months. If the job comes through, everything will move back to the weekends. I don't want to go back to that other topic, damn it. So much damage caused by one little conversation. Almost time to leave. 4-26. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I'm still reeling from the bullshit the other day. It began to fade a bit but returned at the beginning of a movie of my choice yesterday. I knew at the outset that I'd have a tough time, but often the film is worth it. And I have probably said that before. Risk versus reward. One of the toughest, too. Well, the story is better and I made it just fine. The previous problem will never go away. I already know it, and I need to hear more references to that shit like I need a knife in my fucking brain. Any little jab is going to meet with a wall which no one will enjoy. Morning time. I still have coffee, too. I plan to sit here and rest my back for a while since I did not get a chance to work with the graphics much yesterday. The time is available and fuck everything else right now. Taking care of myself is often overlooked in favor of others, but now my focus must be me. We picked up some lumber and brackets yesterday for more garage work. I can't believe how expensive lumber has become since last year. Unreal. I was not able to get everything, so I stuck to the most important which are the posts to support rafters. The rest of my ideas are all little improvements here and there. Not a big deal that I have to push them out further. The ride to the store and back was nice, too. We caught up a bit and spoke of the future. Overall not bad. Afterward I was able to get some Sunday business finished so we could have some television time. One episode and a long movie. The entire time I had the issues right behind my eyes yet held it together anyway. The sun is shining. Maybe it will continue all day and heat this little house. That shit on Saturday altered my outlook quite a bit more than I had originally feared. Two days later and I am looking at other facets affected and thinking that regardless of how I feel about spouting too much information, the bottom line may be the ability to push a little. Sometimes a situation will take place and force me to look at all sides of the problem. It is happening now. Rather than simply backing off and wallowing as I've done in the past, I can keep my head up and be just unpleasant enough to get the point across. I don't even need to raise my voice. The fear and other shit is still there, however. It will never go away because too much of my life and living have been dictated and paths drawn by the same. This is how I am and will always be. The difficulty lies in maintaining such a stance without eventually softening. I can't have that. In the past I let the concern for people creep in slowly and move me away from the importance of following a path created out of disdain and disgust. Of all the shit I try to organize these days, many parts of each week can be eased a little if I remain upset to a point. That may sound ridiculous, but anger can simplify many situations. Boiling them down, if you will. I guess we shall see forsooth. I am not doing well at all. Saturday was a huge failure on my part. I may not get over it, ever. Gushing like that out of weakness and fear is never good and will solve nothing. The only odd part of the whole thing is that I am not berating myself as much as I would have years ago, but then I didn't feel as strongly in the past, either. I don't know what this is going to do long term. I just don't fucking know. Today? This moment? Not happy. I suppose today I will do the usual stuff and enjoy whatever I can. A bit of planning in the garage for the posts, too. The one auction I've been hesitating to list might have to be done soon. I need the flexibility right now. Breathing room, really. That is but one little aspect of the whole period. There is a load of other things I can work with to advance the time. Nothing crazy, though. I have to keep my back in mind. Very uncomfortable even now just sitting on the sofa. I don't know what I did this morning to affect the movement, but some combination of motions really stabbed me. Care must be taken now. As usual, lots of future consideration is on tap, too. Oy God damn, another little thing I wanted to do but forgot. Eh... You know. Happy, and all that shit. I don't know where anything is going right now. The days are all running together -- bleeding into one another -- and I can't seem to steady myself enough to form sentences anymore. One day I am sitting here with coffee and trying to collate everything I need to say, and the next second is two weeks later with me doing exactly the same thing (probably using the same fucking words, too). The fact that I was fool enough to let slip the 'dogs of words' makes me think that perhaps I am not strong enough to work it off. The deed is done and a little light has been seen as the door of my life cracked a sliver. I moved it. No one else. Just because at times the fucking frustration with the mechanisms of the world needs a swift shot upside its head does not mean I am the person to do it. And taking this out on another person is unacceptable and unfair. No one else is at fault. A few years ago I saw a portion of something which caused me to be fearful and then it was clearly confirmed on Saturday. Again... No one's fault. Just facts. The idea that some things have become universal also reinforces what took place in late ten before one of the worst feelings in memory. This is very similar. And believe me when I say that the film yesterday did not badly dredge that shit from ten. It really didn't. I have learned to keep the most difficult situations separate from the big picture. The past is definitely not the 'past' as some would be led to believe. It is actually right there and will never go away. The confirmation has bridged my past with the present and slammed the nail in my head with the hammer of the gods. And I thought all the other shit was combining into a storm? Not even close. The cyclone has materialized over the high country of my life and will soon rain down displeasure and sorrow. The anger is all I have left. Un-fucking-fair. The ideas were there... Soon after followed by demonstrations, fabrications, and some of the most elaborate bullshit imaginable, and now the ships have to sail in order to avoid the storm slamming them into the rocks. Ships. Remember what that means? 'That ship has sailed.' Heard that before? It means the fucking chances no longer exist at all and cannot return. Sailed, forced by the winds of hell. Get the fuck out while you have the opportunity, lest the storm affect you. Believe me when I say that all the shit spewed forth in the caverns has returned. Cyclone, disdain, and disgust for what has happened to me as a result of everything. Weak? No. I am strong. Stupid? Nope. I am intelligent. Scared? Not any longer. I am in charge. The only bad part is how people will react to the storm. Roll right over them. Slam one was long ago. Slam two? Shortly thereafter, completely unexpected, yet still stinging and there is nothing I can do about it because everyone is gone. Slam three... Earlier this year and something also unexpected. Now I don't know who I am. Slam four has been ongoing. What am I supposed to do? Just act like a you-know-what and absorb everything as if the world is peachy? Fuck you. Tell me what the answer is after all that shit, adding the fact that I am losing some of the little things which still bring a smile. Tell me... I fucking dare you. 249."
April 26th, 2021 9:20am pdt
The newer archive of entries has been altered. The titles are now in groups of ten to more easily follow the list.
Storm Cycle
read ( words)
"4-22. I don't understand the world anymore. Hence the world I created in this house for only me. The level of need for my own space has risen since Friday last due to everything already described here. The only change I can see on the horizon may be that job in a few months. Otherwise I will remain right here. Going to restaurants or shopping for necessities are the only reasons for me to be outside. As other people are still gearing up and wishing to live with loosened restrictions -- and happy to do it -- I seem to be regressing back into last year. I am not worried about the virus, only people. I just don't know how the world became like this and I don't like it. I am beginning to feel as I did during the latter half of the glow, when my dislike for the herd mentality first began. Just a few years later I was writing about the effects of so much greed and apathy, and then not long after (around zero eight, I believe) was when I really became disgusted with people and their behavior. Some of that may have been due to my long commute and the idea that personalities tend to surface through the manner in which people handle their vehicles on the roadways. I'm not sure now, but I recall easing up on the world after moving and shortening my drive by nearly half. I believe the planning began while I worked at the parts house -- one of those periods I need to scrutinize and consider noting more often because much happened while in that situation. There had also been some time working swing at the glass plant around those same years. Anyway, the parts house came to mind because I was planning what sort of supplies I would need to bring for a trip to the northern destination. Repair parts, tools, whatever. And I still had my truck for the time being... The vehicle of choice for carrying all my worldly possessions the hell up and out of this place. I was constantly thinking of what may be required for relocating elsewhere permanently. I've already gone around the bend with complaints of people and technology, where we seem to be headed and the like, so I am going to avoid more of the same, instead focusing upon why I feel the way I do and possibly ideas for easing the difficulty. There is only so much I can do here these days. Another set of options or a different avenue leading to a better state of mind has to take priority right now. I am not doing well. Storm is coming.
In the Midwest I sort of felt as if we were out in the middle of nowhere due to being so far from town. Never before had I resided at such a distance from city streets or been so detached from the other houses in the neighborhood. We were out there a ways, and roughly three miles from the nearest town of only six hundred. The idea of being out of California and partially self-sufficient there was just what I needed in order to continue being a part of this society without losing my shit. There was much more to the feeling, but for now I will try to leave out the mushy stuff. I spent a lot of time staring out at the empty space and marveling at being in the middle of nowhere. In reality we were roughly eight minutes from the city, though. The flatland seemed vast. I still had my plan, and the only alteration was the starting point for driving to that same destination, which from the Midwest became a few hundred miles further. No worries. I felt that if the decision was made to cut and run, the number of miles was unimportant. My main concern was being unavailable to everyone. The climate was new to me and felt like training for heading north and dealing with more of the same. Eh... Fuck this subject anyway. The fact is the storm is in my head. Very soon I am going to lose it completely and cease interacting with as many parts of life as possible. If the comfort in the evening and my sense of taste are truly going away, I will adjust my waking hours in order to take advantage of those times when both are available. If I cannot deal with the two any longer, I'll have to adjust other behaviors. No one is going to find me terribly personable. The front approaches. I am fucking tired of everything. No matter the scope of personal relationships or connections which are deeply felt, each of us is responsible for ourselves. No one else. People disappear constantly. Deal with it. And then fucking deal with yourselves. Harsh? You don't know the half. I am regressing further into the impossible, dreamy life with those family members. Mine are all gone, nothing much is satisfying in life any longer, and the errant happy ending would prove the opposite if given life. I just don't know what else to do anymore. They are up there right now, and as each story plays out I begin to formulate my place in that universe. All the issues would disappear, I would not need to worry about the future, and whatever dreams which cannot become real would be there for the taking. Comfort, always, and with those who would be understanding beyond comprehension. I have loved the other world for many years. This new one is taking over due to my familiarity to all of their lives. And don't give me a blast of shit for wanting such a dream. This is mine. Anyone pushing against my words or fantasy can take a flying leap. I need them and will continue placing myself in that little corner of the grand scheme for as long as I wish. Fuck off... I see no other way. At least I'm not putting myself in a mansion with some electromechanical mystery goddess. Today is Thursday. I already took care of a few things but hesitate to go further because she is sleeping right down the hall. Cats, too. The house is very quiet aside from the story playing out up on the screen. My morning cocktail is next to me as well. I intend to take it easy most of the day because my head is all fucked up over someone very close to me being out of sorts, to put it mildly. I care for her, and knowing she is having much difficulty means I will be perpetually preoccupied in the extreme. My garage crap is going to sit for the time being, too. Until such time as the sun makes an appearance (haven't seen hide nor hair of the damned thing for days), I must remain inside. There is always plenty to do in the house anyway, so I'll pass the time as necessary for my comfort and care for what I am able. Hmm... One cat milling around now. I can't deny the fucking storm. I have been having problems ever since one episode of the show which quickly and clearly combined two fucking fears into one series of shots which took my breath away. And not in a good way, either. The problem became three-fold very soon after first watching such a shit show. I don't fucking need that right now and it will not leave my head no matter what I try. There was a problem some years ago during a very different show on a very different channel which we had been following. I overheard something after several episodes (next to me, not on the television), and began to file it away with a few jabs from the past. Soon after, I overheard comments about a person on the screen (not the same person) and filed that away. Well, the two incidents did not originate from the same mouth, but two which until that point in time had been unrelated and vastly different. The commonality drove me to analyze every fucking situation which related to what took place and I quickly drew a conclusion. Keep in mind that said conclusion has affected many aspects of media with which I have been familiar for a very long time. Now they look bad. So, the episode originally brought up here aired recently and reinforced everything mentioned above, plus added a facet I do not wish to describe. Moreover, the intrinsic difficulty with the show continued as a separate component... Something I suspected would take place even days before ever playing the fucking pilot. Putting all this shit together is a part of the storm. Too bad I can't go into detail. Anyone reading this would have a fucking field day with the wording and finally learn just how weak and fearful I have become. Hmm... Maybe one day soon I will gush everything to a waiting pair of ears just to give myself the necessary push into the cemetery. What do you think? Do I matter? Do my feelings matter? Does the fact that I am so frightened matter? Write it all down, fold the paper, and shove it far enough up your ass to ensure the answers never leave. I can't live a single day without seeing and hearing that episode play out in my head. One more little stab to my heart. The underlying fear of everything came up the other day while outside the restaurant and I am still berating myself for touching upon the subject in the first place. I gleaned it and then said too much. The fact is I did not go overly far and there is still a ton being held back. When I need to keep others out? They stay the fuck out. Believe it. There is a flip side, too. The exact opposite may be taking place but there is nothing I can do about it. My massive, cemented double-standard disallows any discussion on the subject due to me being so fucking out of balance and critical of others. The control should have been the first fucking clue. When there is a lack of the same? I tend to become even more threatened. There may be no way out of this shit, especially considering the fact that the tiniest smidgen of a reference tends to remain at the head of the line for days... Or longer. I am still carrying shit from the fucking eighties. Nice. If you know of a method for eliminating some of the baggage, by all means send an email. Shit situation, this current era. Switch. Well, the fucking kit I purchased at great expense is not like the last one. We were able to work on separate assemblies and then mate them at certain points, meaning we could build at the same time from two different manuals. This one is not the same. Everything is in line and built from beginning to end as one big project. Now I have nothing to do after dreaming of another few days like the previous machine. Nope. Whatever. I don't expect to be happy anyway. Switch back. I can't stand thinking about the relationship between what took place and was clearly identified years ago and more recent problems. Not just one film, but several, the worst of which nearly had me recommending yet another due to the cast. Well, suffice to say that is not going to happen, ever. Prior to the first discovery and pile of information, I had no idea there could be such a draw. It just never occurred to me. After multiple stabs throughout a period of months, I am at a loss more than ever. Knowing what goes on inside (just a bit, make no mistake) means my head went around the film industry and sought other examples of the same issue. The major downside is that I have cut off certain aspects of entertainment as a result of feeling very threatened. And one of them is overwhelmingly harsh and cutting. We discussed it at length and there can be no resolution any longer. A huge accomplishment for the artists and a gigantic influence in my life has been turned on its ear and destroyed through memories and conversation. Is it the worst? No, I don't believe so, but the bottom line is one leads to another and then another. Just like that fucking magazine all those years back, there is now much more burning me alive. I was not expecting this shit. Considering my love for the industry, one would think I had the ability to get around anything troubling due to the wonder I still hold for the process of filmmaking. Well, I suppose it's just too fucking bad. 4-23. Once again last night, very little sense of taste. One of three... Heading out the door. Hours ahead to myself. I have the usual stuff to do plus a few other things. The watch auction listing is built and ready to go live. Today being Friday means I may take it easy somewhat. Lots on my mind right now. Yesterday I had the idea to refine my motorized rack plan in the garage so I relocated the unit overhead and ran some tests. Without the drag of three pulleys routing the cord to the opposite side of the garage, the motor does not labor as much. I have a bearing and shaft coming from McMaster to smooth the rotation as much as possible. Also, the counterweight does not need to be so heavy. For testing, I attached a beer can full of water and it seemed to help. That may also be a nice conversation piece once everything is operational. The momentary switch will make testing easier. Sometime next week I should have all the parts. Recently I mentioned that the two had been taking a back seat to other problems, but I now believe it is still at the top of the list and the most difficult issue in my life. There are peaceful periods, however. Most days it is in the background and does not flare badly. The media is primarily what will drive it to full attention, along with those three little incidents which have cemented the phrase in the theatre from more than twenty years ago. When that took place I thought about it from time to time and only after other problems arose did it really cause me distress. The fact is I cannot deny the power. Not even close. I do not possess the strength to rise above and/or push it away and minimize what my imagination creates as a result of anything which comes along as a reminder. Yes, I said imagination. I do not know what is going on in there, so I can only work within. That discussion the other day really slammed me back and now I am even more guarded than before the words came forth. I am embarrassed, and such a fact is dangerous. Believe me, embarrassment or perceived weakness are dual situations which can actually outweigh the two. They are aftereffects, yet still frightening. After almost any conversation, I end up living through the remainder of a given day in very bad shape. My head lets go of exactly nothing. A cyclone of worry. 'Storm' is not an apt descriptor. Much of this fucked up situation is my doing as driven by decades of lacking things inside and occasional jabs at my confidence. The combination is now overwhelming and leaving me feeling smaller than I ever have. All the way back to the eighties have I seen examples of either uncaring or unfeeling behavior from others which have had a lasting effect upon how I view myself and society. And I am not speaking of those ridiculous comments which come forth in an effort to boost a person's self-esteem at the expense of someone else. I only refer to what seem to be words and actions born of a lack of the same. That may sound convoluted, but the fact remains I have discussed this with a number of people in the past and no one seems to understand outside my own lack of confidence (and that is yet another vast subject which limits me and creates more problems than I care to mention here). Not everything is my fucking fault. Yes, I can be unreasonable and controlling. I already know it so don't fucking push. I did not ask to be in the center of the fucking storm at my age. There may be no recovery whatsoever. Splendid. Those jabs were not pleasant, yet if I am to spout all day about being myself and 'don't tell me to change', the flip side is I cannot ask the same of other people. I have to be fair. The only defense I had years ago was to bring up the subject afterward and try to understand. Most of the time I received an apology which then propelled my head downward because I felt like I had been asking too much. No solutions. Only problems. Ugh fuck me anyway. Why do I sit here week after week, month after month and try to solve anything? I feel like I've been wasting my time for no good reason. Perhaps I need to cut off the world. I don't fucking know. Storm cycle, apparent. 4-24. Dreaming of monsters is not fun, although I seemed to have help wherever we were. Like a giant slug, lime green, slithering all over the place and seemingly threatening, and leaving little pieces of itself here and there which we had to burn, lest they rejoin the bad guy and make it larger. Some big parking lot for a while, and then the streets. Buildings all around. The details were many but have since faded some. One cat's paw out of the bag? Perhaps two. This is not good. I made an irreversible mistake and now am on analytical overload. Not a moment has passed in eighteen hours in which I have not considered the circumstances and gravity of what took place. As I said, irreversible. There is nothing I can do about it now. Another person altering themselves for my benefit is unacceptable and makes me feel even weaker than I do on my own. I do realize that some who care for each other naturally adapt in certain ways in order to ensure happiness and some kind of compatibility. Perfectly understandable, right? Well, this is different. I just can't have it. The storm arrived just a few minutes after I realized what I had initiated. There is no going back, meaning this storm is now perpetual in nature. A change of subject is needed. In a little while I will be carried to the big box hardware for some lumber. The gentleman who stored his bike here for nearly a year offered to bring me there anytime I need large items which will not fit in my family car. This is very nice of him. The motorcycle may be gone, but we are still in contact. Hopefully that will continue after he and his wife move back to the Midwest in July or so. I have been waiting to haul lumber here since last summer. Without a truck, and considering I have very little contact with others, anything oversize is difficult to acquire without significant cost. For him to help me today is nothing, but it means a lot to me. The material I'll pick up is going to enable all sorts of projects, including advancing the clothing rack design. This means I'll have lots to do in the coming months. If the job comes through, everything will move back to the weekends. I don't want to go back to that other topic, damn it. So much damage caused by one little conversation. Almost time to leave. 4-26. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I'm still reeling from the bullshit the other day. It began to fade a bit but returned at the beginning of a movie of my choice yesterday. I knew at the outset that I'd have a tough time, but often the film is worth it. And I have probably said that before. Risk versus reward. One of the toughest, too. Well, the story is better and I made it just fine. The previous problem will never go away. I already know it, and I need to hear more references to that shit like I need a knife in my fucking brain. Any little jab is going to meet with a wall which no one will enjoy. Morning time. I still have coffee, too. I plan to sit here and rest my back for a while since I did not get a chance to work with the graphics much yesterday. The time is available and fuck everything else right now. Taking care of myself is often overlooked in favor of others, but now my focus must be me. We picked up some lumber and brackets yesterday for more garage work. I can't believe how expensive lumber has become since last year. Unreal. I was not able to get everything, so I stuck to the most important which are the posts to support rafters. The rest of my ideas are all little improvements here and there. Not a big deal that I have to push them out further. The ride to the store and back was nice, too. We caught up a bit and spoke of the future. Overall not bad. Afterward I was able to get some Sunday business finished so we could have some television time. One episode and a long movie. The entire time I had the issues right behind my eyes yet held it together anyway. The sun is shining. Maybe it will continue all day and heat this little house. That shit on Saturday altered my outlook quite a bit more than I had originally feared. Two days later and I am looking at other facets affected and thinking that regardless of how I feel about spouting too much information, the bottom line may be the ability to push a little. Sometimes a situation will take place and force me to look at all sides of the problem. It is happening now. Rather than simply backing off and wallowing as I've done in the past, I can keep my head up and be just unpleasant enough to get the point across. I don't even need to raise my voice. The fear and other shit is still there, however. It will never go away because too much of my life and living have been dictated and paths drawn by the same. This is how I am and will always be. The difficulty lies in maintaining such a stance without eventually softening. I can't have that. In the past I let the concern for people creep in slowly and move me away from the importance of following a path created out of disdain and disgust. Of all the shit I try to organize these days, many parts of each week can be eased a little if I remain upset to a point. That may sound ridiculous, but anger can simplify many situations. Boiling them down, if you will. I guess we shall see forsooth. I am not doing well at all. Saturday was a huge failure on my part. I may not get over it, ever. Gushing like that out of weakness and fear is never good and will solve nothing. The only odd part of the whole thing is that I am not berating myself as much as I would have years ago, but then I didn't feel as strongly in the past, either. I don't know what this is going to do long term. I just don't fucking know. Today? This moment? Not happy. I suppose today I will do the usual stuff and enjoy whatever I can. A bit of planning in the garage for the posts, too. The one auction I've been hesitating to list might have to be done soon. I need the flexibility right now. Breathing room, really. That is but one little aspect of the whole period. There is a load of other things I can work with to advance the time. Nothing crazy, though. I have to keep my back in mind. Very uncomfortable even now just sitting on the sofa. I don't know what I did this morning to affect the movement, but some combination of motions really stabbed me. Care must be taken now. As usual, lots of future consideration is on tap, too.
Oy God damn, another little thing I wanted to do but forgot. Eh... You know. Happy, and all that shit. I don't know where anything is going right now. The days are all running together -- bleeding into one another -- and I can't seem to steady myself enough to form sentences anymore. One day I am sitting here with coffee and trying to collate everything I need to say, and the next second is two weeks later with me doing exactly the same thing (probably using the same fucking words, too). The fact that I was fool enough to let slip the 'dogs of words' makes me think that perhaps I am not strong enough to work it off. The deed is done and a little light has been seen as the door of my life cracked a sliver. I moved it. No one else. Just because at times the fucking frustration with the mechanisms of the world needs a swift shot upside its head does not mean I am the person to do it. And taking this out on another person is unacceptable and unfair. No one else is at fault. A few years ago I saw a portion of something which caused me to be fearful and then it was clearly confirmed on Saturday. Again... No one's fault. Just facts. The idea that some things have become universal also reinforces what took place in late ten before one of the worst feelings in memory. This is very similar. And believe me when I say that the film yesterday did not badly dredge that shit from ten. It really didn't. I have learned to keep the most difficult situations separate from the big picture. The past is definitely not the 'past' as some would be led to believe. It is actually right there and will never go away. The confirmation has bridged my past with the present and slammed the nail in my head with the hammer of the gods. And I thought all the other shit was combining into a storm? Not even close. The cyclone has materialized over the high country of my life and will soon rain down displeasure and sorrow. The anger is all I have left. Un-fucking-fair. The ideas were there... Soon after followed by demonstrations, fabrications, and some of the most elaborate bullshit imaginable, and now the ships have to sail in order to avoid the storm slamming them into the rocks. Ships. Remember what that means? 'That ship has sailed.' Heard that before? It means the fucking chances no longer exist at all and cannot return. Sailed, forced by the winds of hell. Get the fuck out while you have the opportunity, lest the storm affect you. Believe me when I say that all the shit spewed forth in the caverns has returned. Cyclone, disdain, and disgust for what has happened to me as a result of everything. Weak? No. I am strong. Stupid? Nope. I am intelligent. Scared? Not any longer. I am in charge. The only bad part is how people will react to the storm. Roll right over them. Slam one was long ago. Slam two? Shortly thereafter, completely unexpected, yet still stinging and there is nothing I can do about it because everyone is gone. Slam three... Earlier this year and something also unexpected. Now I don't know who I am. Slam four has been ongoing. What am I supposed to do? Just act like a you-know-what and absorb everything as if the world is peachy? Fuck you. Tell me what the answer is after all that shit, adding the fact that I am losing some of the little things which still bring a smile. Tell me... I fucking dare you. 249."
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