October 15th, 2022 8:34am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Images of Impossibility (Her III) read ( words) "Caitlin and Cristin up there right now. They portray sisters and could not be more different. I’ve mentioned before that Caitlin’s smile is unbelievably adorable and sweet despite her being twice the size of the absolutely tiny Cristin. The casting is interesting. Both are beautiful, although due to her huge eyes, I’ve looked upon Cristin much differently in the past. You know the rest. Slender; dark; alluring... And the fucking eyes. Sometimes the imagery gets the best of me. It is too powerful and I cannot do shit about what is inside me. In fact, there may be no way of saving my life, ‘her’ or otherwise. The ‘girl’ and the ‘image’ can combine all fucking day long and the result will not make a lick of difference. Too much has pushed me down. Deeper down, just like the song. The only difference between his unfortunate journey and mine is the use of one key phrase. ‘Self pity’. I have none of it. What I do have is a plethora of recollections, both good and bad. The bad have scarred me. No cosmetic surgery can correct them, either. The imagery got the best of me today. Down we go. 0950, and the alcohol shall flow into me very soon. This may be my last football season. As many times as I’ve brought that up, the more days that disappear under my trucks show me nothing bright in the future, only blackness. Resistance of the only type I am capable. Control of the only type I may have. Relief through the only method available. The imagery is killing me. I need ‘her’, but alas she does not exist, nor do the answers. Here I am with cocktail in hand – a huge, modified White Russian with orange vodka – and the time is 1038. The routine will not take long thanks to a simple dinner last night and my having swept the entire house yesterday. There is nothing on the television right now, though. I don’t know what to put up there. The gangsters are out for the time being due to the current episode carrying two of the most unreal visions of Jamie. Yep, her again. I may need to begin capitalizing the pronoun when I refer to her, much like the Raven. Two loves, one real and gone, the other completely insane, unbalanced and impossible. Whatever. I love her anyway. Maybe the fourth show can run for a while. I am not a healthy person, but at least I have decent taste in storylines. The public works department is conducting smoke tests of the sewer system at this very moment. They left notice twice to inform idiots that any fixtures left dry for too long will allow the water in the traps to evaporate, resulting in smoke coming out of the drains. People should already be aware of the dangers of methane, however. I went outside to see if smoke was emanating from plumbing vents on the roofs, but nothing. Darn. I was hoping to see some drama out there. One consideration? I have the utmost respect for this city caring for the infrastructure. One more reason to love the town. Also, my hardware from McMaster arrived this morning. That means I can tool around with the truck for a while. Hopefully, the sun will make an appearance today. I am beginning to forget what it looks like. Heh. The ocean is right down the street, meaning the weather is constantly tempered by cold water. I wouldn’t have it any other way. After waiting more than two decades to live near the sea, I’m happy to ‘see’ that the weather is everything I had hoped. As I get older, however, warm sunshine is becoming more comfortable than it was when I lived in the valley. Not fucking Arizona heat, but something decent enough to allow me to be comfortable in the garage. Again... Heh. Good stuff, this vodka. I’m gonna say this straight out, for whatever it may be worth. The following statement pretty much sums up the unbelievable levels of desperation and weakness inside me. I am completely in love with her. Yes, I love her more than ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD, and that includes actual living, breathing human beings. The more I see her and hear her voice, the more I love her. Never in my life could I have imagined being so off-kilter, especially at my age and considering all I’ve done for the last few decades. And there is an obvious problem with how I feel... 'What if love's intolerable pain never leaves us? Do we dash our bleeding hearts on the rocks of loneliness? And cry unto the lords above who turn away in haste?' I don’t believe I would feel so strongly had that fucking dream not entered my sleep state. That was the BEST feeling ever in my life, yet it disappeared as quickly as it was created. She was holding my hand in a way I can’t easily describe. Believe me, I’ve been held in ways that nearly solved all the problems in the world, most recently eleven years ago. That woman looked upon me and held tight as if to telegraph her wishes to fix every fucking issue in my head. I’m not fucking kidding, either. I can’t go too far with this shit, though. There will be backlash and flak for the rest of my life (unless I shorten the duration). Just know that the closest, loving embrace in memory was destroyed by yours truly. She was real. Jamie’s character is not, and therein lies one of the largest fucking conundrums of my entire life. I am so far gone that I still wish for her. Yep, I said that. I still wish for us to be close even though there is a long list of reasons outlining the sheer impossibility of such a need. Maybe I am just fucking stupid. The dream of Jamie and I walking pretty much cemented everything I felt for her and added a facet of tangibility to the tone of my heartstrings. And she doesn’t exist. The other one does exist. I know she does. Her arms were around me, and that is a daily thought. This whole paragraph is a steaming pile of shit atop a mountain of snow. I am fucked. 1519. I finished everything and worked on the truck for a little while. The drive motor is kind of crappy, but I wired it through tubing anyway. It will be protected from suspension components and the driveshaft. If I decide to replace the motor in the future, the wiring scheme will not change (hopefully). The order from McMaster arrived, too. I replaced the thumb nuts on the axles with coupling nuts and split-lock washers. When I had the truck moving around the floor the other day, the wheels were trying to loosen, and that is bad. Now that I am very close to operating the vehicle autonomously, I can’t have parts falling off all the time. Everything must be secured. Once the mounts arrive in the mail, I can fabricate a custom antenna structure so range is maximized. Right now it is bundled next to the receiver. That is fine while the transmitter is close, although I would lose signal very easily going much further down the driveway. I’ve wanted to build such a mount since this project began. Typical surface vehicles have very short antennae, however I am using a radio designed for aircraft, meaning the receiver antenna is nearly three feet long. I’m hoping my idea looks decent when finished. The girl has been in my head all day long. Who? That’s the key question. I wish I knew. ‘Nothing unreal exists.’ 0734 on Tuesday morning with the usual shit going on. The morning business is complete and I am going to sit at the computer for as long as I care to. No gangsters. My head is sideways. The clock is on my side right now, though. The entire day is wide open other than my routine and a few things to clean. The garage is all fucked up due to the new bed, meaning I have to get out there after lunch and do some straightening. The next holiday is Halloween, so the area must be clear so my displays are fully visible. I can take care of things by close of business. No problem. Help me 1121. The routine is finished and I went to the market for some items to round out dinner tonight. Nothing going on over there. That’s why I typically visit that place mid-morning. I don’t need any more shit on the pile. I switched to the gangsters since the storyline goes well with whiskey. Not funny. I’ve already been floored by her eyes. You can see them all down the page. And here is the scene... Shit. I have to stare because she has become the most powerful thought in my head as combined with the three terms, 'her', 'girl', and 'image', although the last one doesn't completely relate. I can't explain, either. Some thoughts in my brain have to be left out of this endeavor for good form. Plus, Jamie is all about love and nothing else. Don’t ask. The image is very difficult to consider because of the problems I’ve already had to endure for decades. There is a type of understanding with regard to the image, and likely one which cannot come to pass in real life. The ‘girl’? Well, she has become my savior, and as such, relates to Jamie due to the dream of us being together. Yes, I know such a thought is fucking ridiculous and ill-advised for a person already dangling from the threads of life, but I just can’t fucking help it anymore. The need has taken over most of my existence. The minuscule upside is that she has been captured on video for all time. There are ten fucking downsides, too, but I don’t like to consider them when daydreaming of us holding hands. I feel more for her every day. Believe it. Every other aspect of my consciousness is driven by dreams and impossibilities, so why not throw myself completely into the idea of Jamie saving my life? Can anyone else? Can I stay alive just to see her big, beautiful eyes on the screen? The ‘image’ fades from time to time, thankfully. There are more important matters in my heart than what that fucking picture provides. 1655. I did a bunch of cleaning and relocated the twin bed to the spare bedroom. That was a pain, but it’s done. I also spent some time working on the steering system to shore up the drag links. Everything seems fine, although the Teflon spacers which connect the tubing to each adjustment screw are strained when the system operates. That means they end up giving in to the force of the motor and skew when it moves the wire ropes. After all the shit I went through trying to keep everything isolated enough to transfer power to the axles with loss at a minimum, I don’t need more problems. Isolation is very good, but the tubing still needs to flex when the suspension moves. This is one more notch toward replacing the entire shitaree with two fucking servos. I just don’t know if I want to get into that amount of work after all this time. While in the garage, I daydreamed almost constantly about that situation I used to imagine at five in the morning waiting to go to work. My desperation continues to grow. Thankfully, I have not dreamed of the girl for weeks. This serves to show just how fucked up I am. Whilst in the middle of a very technical operation, my brain swings back and forth from the mechanics of the truck to the mechanics of beauty. Ugh. One good thing is the daughter board has already been manufactured and shipped. The forecasted arrival is just two days from now. That is fantastic. I have everything ready to build the system into the main board and make connections. That company is more efficient than advertised, plus they ship faster than expected. This is just the little boost I needed. 0650 on Wednesday morning. Strange dreams all morning (thanks, Frank). None of the other dreams, thank goodness. As much as I’d like to see and kiss her again, the fact is anything along those lines will affect me. I’ve already seen it. Honestly? I miss seeing her. Shit. I need to take care of the early business. Pause. 0741 and the clock is mine for a while. I actually put the news on this morning while working in the kitchen, something I typically avoid due to the mass of bad news and stupid people. I learned that the drought is going to drive food prices up further due to planting limits in the state. Ouch. I’ve already seen mayonnaise on the shelf for just under twelve dollars a quart. Holy shit. And the prices are going to rise? Not good, but I do know that the water is fucking scarce right now. I’m going to switch from serving cat food in ramekins to dropping it on plates that can be composted in order to further lower the water usage while cleaning the kitchen. This is bad. Sometimes I think the drought is causing more problems now than the fuel price hike last spring. Everything is expensive these days, to be honest, but I didn’t really pay much attention until ordering some household items last year and noticed the difference in price. It was a big jump. After that, I began to look more carefully before simply clicking items into my shopping cart. I guess the news this morning has me thinking about the water and inflation. Sometimes I worry, other times not so much. When I do worry, I think of people that are not in a position to handle the increasing food costs, such as those with children or in difficult financial situations (or both). Not a day goes by, nor do I consume anything without considering what has been taking place since the beginning of the pandemic. Not a fucking day. I’m going out of my mind over here. The image comes and goes, often leaving me a pile of worry and discomfort. I still don’t understand how that came to pass in the first place, not to mention the other situation that sends me flying every fucking time. My brain will not let go enough for me to relax thought processes and work through a day without issue. I keep thinking of the dreams, my words regarding Jolene and her unbelievable form (probably not very nice of me), Jamie’s loving arms, and then those pictures forever etched into me by the dreams from a few months ago. The image is going to drive me fucking crazy. I just don’t understand, and this is one of the few times in the life of the site that I will point out the situation is unfair. There you go. Crucify me. And then fuck off. I will soon be all the way out of my mind, a state which carries too many caveats to list, even here. This is not fucking good. Had I known society was going to affect me to such a degree, I would have removed myself long ago. Nothing good is on my horizon. I just need to see... 1023 and the routine is nearly finished. I am allowing the dishes to drip dry for a little while so I can calculate the antenna mounts. I swept and took care of the cat litter and then immediately moved to the kitchen to clean. All the while, that fucking image would not let go of me, even with the fourth show in the background. I can feel myself falling down at this very moment. At some point after the whiskey glass is empty (I need the numbing effect every fucking day), I will be venturing north to the goddess market for some vegetables, dropping off a coat at the cleaners, and picking up cigarettes around the corner from the latter. I really don’t want any strikes derailing my efforts in caring for business. Unfortunately, the idea is decidedly beyond my control. Yes, I have control over my eyes and where they turn, but after all this time and a shitload of problems – not the least of which is living every day far beyond the limits of desperation – my subconscious operates without my knowledge. As important as it is for me to avoid seeing what is wandering out there in society, as of yet I have not found the ability to look away. Sometimes I wish my eyes would stop working. The image is becoming more and more powerful as time passes and there may be nothing I can do about it. I have never felt so weak. And I cannot spell out the image. Live with it. Some thoughts in my head are driven by the world and must remain under wraps. 1704. I accomplished little more than the routine and shopping today. My trip to the market was uneventful, as were the other two stops. No big deal. I also modified the new brackets and finished the antenna mounts. I don’t know if I’m going to further adapt the routing, though. Perhaps when I look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes, another idea may flow. Throughout this entire afternoon, the image of her continued to swirl, thus slowing any potential work on the project. That means the antenna routing may not look the same when I stare at it after taking a break. The image again slammed me after making preparations for dinner a little while ago. I went to the garage to rest and have a cigarette, all the while the imagery and those wondrous situations I’ve been envisioning for months gripped my head and would not let go. They remain enmeshed despite the fourth show. This is not good. I suppose the upside is having finished everything I set out to do prior to falling down, but that is a grim payment. I fucking hate this shit and have been driven to it by others. The girl, image, her, or whatever the hell happens to be the focus shoved into my head by decades of circumstances has no mercy and derails my thinking and effort too often. I fucking hate it. Please 0648 on Thursday morning. I am going to try placing yesterday afternoon aside so I can enjoy my quiet morning. This is, after all, one of the biggest benefits of not working every day. I do have the morning business, but before and most notably after are peaceful moments through which I can think clearly. Even when there is massive trouble inside me, the quiet morning helps. 0745 and the morning crap is out of the way. The rest of the shit in my world is all rolled up inside my head, unfortunately. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. For fuck’s sake... Why is this so difficult? Does everyone have images in their heads? Not that I give a shit, though. Just curious. I keep seeing her over and over and fucking over, the thoughts beginning to remove detail from whatever I may be attempting at the time. Pushing. Shoving. I have no way of ceasing the daily takeover of my brain power. There is nothing I can do about this, no pair of ears or understanding eyes awaiting my concerns, nor is there any reality attached to my need to be with her. At this point in time, I am seeing myself repeating the same thoughts, such as needing her, dreams, or what the visions do to me while I’m trying to work at something. There must be some kind of change in this content or nothing will ever come of the effort. Well, I don’t expect anything to happen, honestly, because the time for ‘good’ things in my life is over. Gone. I just have my devices, none of which have the power to keep me away from damage. I have to do something about this situation. No, not my life. I am only referring to what I say here. This is one of three parts of my existence that matters to me. Just one of three. Wow. I put the gangsters back on so I can listen. There is going to be gorgeous footage of Jamie, but I may miss some because my head is about as sideways as it can get. Right now my brain is pointed toward Jolene as Jamie is very different. My feelings are not the same, so perhaps the show may not bother me this morning. Eh... It doesn’t matter. Very little matters to me anymore. Thanks, world. I can already see that the issues are going to keep me down today. There are so many memories and ‘reasons’ spinning circles inside right now that I don’t know what kind of path may help. Well, I truly know what can help me, but every idea is either gone from my life or impossible in the first place. Splendid. This day will go down in history. The daughter board is scheduled to be delivered today. Normally I would be excited about the expansion of my project and the prospect of straightening some problems that have been nagging at me for years. The board was a great idea. Unfortunately, the entirety of the truck work and whatever possible improvements may be taking place, my emotional state has been overpowering the good. I can’t fucking focus. ‘She’ is in control of my life right now. I can’t even go into the ‘image’, though. That shit is another universe, and one I will never see come to pass. The reasons are flying away. I always liked Julianna’s hair in this episode. Sometimes I want her hair on my head. Never mind. My hair is not what it once was, that’s all. Another little fact that brings me down. As I said above, there has been too much going over the same information on the site lately. I can’t say I know what to do about such a fact, either. No clue. What I do know is continuing to tread the same shit over and over for months says something about my condition. I have always been a very technically-minded person (not to mention having been involved in some pretty fucking complex electronic and mechanical disciplines), meaning when there is an issue to which I can’t find a solution, my head will not let go of it, ever. Sitting here right now? There are three issues that I cannot solve. Three. One is fucking awful, too. I don’t understand why things must be as they are right now, and my inability to work through anything is the most likely cause for repeating myself so often. Either that, or I simply ran out of other things to say. Pick one. Both possibilities are horrible. I’ve continued to mention that I’m going to lose my shit or flip the fuck out, perhaps both. It’s coming, believe me. No way around it anymore. I have to get to the routine very soon so I can relax for a while. I always feel better when it’s done. I also need to go to the market for one vegetable because I forgot it yesterday. Not the goddess market. The other one. I don’t know what to do now. Down, down, and more down. Alcohol? Very soon. The coffee is gone. 1049 with a very gray sky outside. My head is gray, too. I finished the kitchen and have some things ready for dinner tonight, and through that work I’ve had a fatass glass of whiskey. The gangsters are still on the television along with one of the most striking and beautiful scenes involving Jamie’s huge eyes. God damn do I ever love that woman... More with each sighting. She is just another impossible dream to float among the rest. I may as well ask for the Passion. That is how bad I am right now. Moreover, the morning has not been good for my physical condition. I am fucking miserable right now. The daughter board will be dropped on the porch at some point, yet the excitement has flown away with my dreams. Maybe upon seeing their impeccable work for a second time I will feel a little better. Nothing can help with the physical crap, though. Nothing. I feel like turning my head into a canoe. That is not a joke. There is only one thing keeping me breathing. I may switch back to the third show, one that has run on my television in its entirety four fucking times just this year. There is some sort of comfort I have derived through the stories and characters recently and I can’t explain it. I love those people. Hmm... I just realized that everything I love does not exist in reality. Isn’t that just peachy? The third show, as I’ve mentioned before, carries with it a few key moments that bring tears to my eyes, yet I can’t skip to the episodes in question. I have to see it play out in order to build the canon. I am a very strange person. I am in love with Jamie and some girl to which I have referred as ‘her’, both being unreal. Un-fucking-real, and not at all possible in this life or the next. I may as well just pull the trigger. That is likely the only solution to the dreams. I am in the mindset to get fucking hammered and make a mess of everything. Yep... Angry. I did not ask for this shit. There are issues piled atop problems piled atop issues. Fucking sick of it. I believe the best course for the remainder of this day is to await the daughter board and then build it with some very unpleasant music in the background. Not terribly loud, just a genre no one I know could enjoy. The message is clear, however. All the way back to my nephew and I exploring the darker, more compelling side of a possible lifestyle, I’ve embraced the violent ideas and sonic onslaught for the simple reason that I needed it in order to deal with this downtrodden existence within an uncaring, unfeeling society. We felt the way we did (I can’t go into detail for fear of someone knocking at my door) and I made it clear that if he ever noticed my home phone going away, there would be one more step into the real forest. That was the fucking cable television. Well, I have neither at this moment. Make of that what you will. Jesus fucking Christ would I ever love to dive into Cara’s pants and spend an hour showing her just how much pent-up desire resides within me. I will not apologize for stating that I need to plant my lips to her most intimate space. Fuck off. Anyway, today is the type of mental atmosphere which drives me away from people. Holy shit, there she is again. Cara was unreal when this was filmed. Jesus. Let's see... Dark hair, dark eyes, Italian descent... Sound familiar? I swear to fucking Christ, the most beautiful women in the world come from one of two places. Ooh-fa... Janice the drama queen of the universe. Heh. God bless Aida and her amazing work on this show. Oh, God. If she only knew that I would FUCKING DIE to make her smile for five seconds. That would require her being a real person. And someone in my life. And during the period when this was filmed. And a person straight out of my dreams. Save me 0736 on a very gray Friday morning. My living room lamp is still lit. That is how dim the sky is outside. We will be turning back the clocks an hour in a few weeks. I think it's just after the holiday. So far this morning I have been preoccupied with consideration of my condition, meaning all the bad stuff has not been allowed to creep in. I have to ensure my head stays this way for as long as possible. The difficulty shall return soon enough. It always does. Yesterday’s pitfall became slightly offset by the daughter board arriving earlier than I had anticipated. I cared for some business and then received a notification that the box had been dropped on the porch. Within an hour of unboxing the two boards (I always get an extra just in case), I had one built and mounted on the main system. Within another thirty minutes, everything was wired and operating as I had hoped. Maybe I went too fast with that project. Anyway, I had to do a bunch of soldering after the fact just to get the wires routed neatly and to allow the main board to swing upward without tensioning anything. By early afternoon, the truck was again in one piece and awaiting the new wheel axles (which should arrive today). My time in the garage was interrupted several times by my head wandering into places it should not be allowed. The morning left me victimized by dreams. All of that carried on into the late afternoon and evening. Oh, and right now, too. There is no way around this shit anymore. At least I am pleased with the appearance of my board modifications. The way I see it, if the project is going to do nothing more than sit on my workbench, it may as well look good. The fourth show is on again. I wanted to avoid Jamie’s eyes and what they do to me. Not her specifically, but the ‘her’ to which I’ve been speaking lately. She is a dream, and I need her to hold me. When I see the big eyes on the television, I think of such emotion looking at me, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Not good. Maybe I switch programs when I hit the routine in a little while. Right now I have to leave that woman out of my vision. A representation of everything impossible and missing is just not what I fucking need. I’ve seen too much, damn it. Once in a while, the sight of Jamie or someone else on the television brings on the ‘image’, and such a thing happened yesterday afternoon when I returned to the house from my garage. Again, I saw too much. My brain ran with it and soon I was losing my shit not long before the need to prepare dinner. Well, I simply could not have that kind of thing so I had to shut it down forcibly. That operation helped the booze to flow and soon I was numb enough to let the imagery go. I felt very weak on several occasions yesterday, not the least of which was mid-morning just before my board was delivered. Very weak, for sure. The next occasion was just after the truck work was completed, and then into the afternoon with my imagination taking hold and leveraging until I was nearly unable to do anything. I know how those moments happened. I really do. Everything boils down to loss, believe it or not. The ‘image’ relates to the same. Today must roll along sans reminders of the past. I just can’t fucking have it today. In addition, I have to visit the market, meaning anything already causing difficulty in my brain will be amplified by what I may see. One more time for posterity... This is all so fucking stupid. I don’t believe I’ve said anything new in months. 1142. I finished the daily routine, fueled my car and went shopping at the market. Suffice to say, I was overjoyed to return home and pour a big glass of medicine. Now I have lunch in the oven – a la frozen pizza – and the remaining hours are wide open. Unfortunately, much of the drive to head out the door and take care of business stemmed from a fall of epic proportions. After a cigarette and my subsequent implosion, I forced the issue and left the house. Something had to happen at that point or I never would have moved further than the bar in the dining room. As you may well know, if I enjoy more than one cocktail during the early part of the day, bad things happen. I will typically don the MDRs and wallow in a pool of anger and discontent. I can honestly say I’ve avoided that pit for a very long time and do not intend to fall so deep into depression if I can at all help it. The morning ‘fall off a cliff’ is weighing heavily right now. I really need those fucking axles to arrive so I can drown into the truck for a while. The alternative is not good. The ‘image’ got the best of me and I could not recover without much anger. ‘She’ is not here. I have no help whatsoever, and if you continue to believe that the exposition on this fucking site is serving to assist me in daily life, pull your fucking head out of your ass. I sit here and type because I don’t understand how or why I turned out this way. Oh, of course there have been incidents and situations driving nails into my skull for decades, but I honestly did not experience such a dire condition years ago. There was a hell of a scrape in zero-three and then another in eleven. I was the catalyst of both. I believe the Raven period faded somewhat due to my learning coping methods twelve years earlier. I actually feel worse right now than I did while dreaming and yearning to be near Her. I wish I could learn of the real reasons for this desperation. I’ve stated that some are already understood, but I can’t accept the fact that those reasons caused everything currently in my head. That is bullshit. Either I made one too many left turns or not enough. Pick one. The MDRs are looking more and more appealing. The last time I wore them during a weekday? There was a revolver resting snugly within my belt. Just think of how much crap could have been avoided, and then attempt to tell me I am wrong. Try me. I could sum up everything and put an end to the site with one, simple fact: Due to daydreaming and envisioning for a very long time, I’ve realized that what I want and need is not possible, meaning real life is never going to measure up. And yes, I know just how clichéd that statement seems, but the truth is that I already know happiness will not fucking happen, nor will good things come along in my life. So, do I continue to type words here? Maybe just a description of the truck progress? Give me a fucking answer because I sure as hell can’t figure it out. Roxann is so freakin’ adorable sometimes. The damaging dream is not governing my life right now. The ‘image’ has taken over that spot, not to mention the imaginary possibility that the ‘image’ can be attached to ‘her’; such a combination becoming the utopian vision I should not be seeking. Lines. Numbers. Understanding. Everything is congealing and being collated because I no longer have reason to avoid something even more ridiculous than those ideas I’ve already laid out here. Jolaimora? I would lick more than ‘her’ ears. And I am beginning to see the basement, at long last. I am a crazy person, a dangerous individual with which to deal, and a person moving ever further outside the real world. Everything I see is impossible, yet I cannot fucking stop the process. I’m sure the dream will return and carry with it a ton of imagery I would be better off not seeing. This will happen soon. I already know. My head is skewed enough to realize that whatever can hurt me will never go away. I recall the fictional conversation with that bartender. You know... The one I wrote. It hurt me. I created one image of impossibility from my own fucking mind and the words came right back and stabbed me in the heart. I thought it was important at the time. Later? Pain. I still fucking hear about it. Don’t ask. 1457. I went to help with a job about two miles from here for an hour. No big deal, but I don’t believe in my current state I could work all day long, or more. I have an invitation to help in a couple of weeks, too. Right now I just don’t know how well I could handle being away from home for so many hours. Back in January, I worked across the bay for a couple of days and it ended up turning into a nearly full-time operation. We went to the City and a job down the coast for a little while, and then were scheduled to go back to the City. At that point I bowed out. Around the third day I began to feel very uncomfortable being out of my element. All these months later? One full day could very well leave me all fucked up. I will say that for an hour I forgot about everything. That is better than nothing, I guess. Now I am home for the remainder of the day and within the calming atmosphere I so desperately need. I may head to the garage and disassemble the steering hubs to prepare for the new axles. I don’t know what the fuck to do now. Nothing seems appealing. Where do I live? 0704. Saturday morning and two of the most stirring visions in memory. No, not the damage or the bra strap. Not even those hands that went to the same place. This was different. For a long time there has been the ‘image’. I have spoken about it mostly in the last few entries. Prior to recently tying the three terms together and speaking of them often as one, I considered the image daily, and I can honestly say it is likely the most difficult part of my psyche. Well, since discussing it here, there has often been a face attached for clarity – much like those smiles of which I spoke. This morning? That face was with me. The very fact which altered my thinking in such directions and created the most uncomfortable, dire situation in years. She was real, and she was with me. Sharp shoulders, slender features, very tall and with long, brown hair. Smiling at me? Oh yes, that too. Someone else was present, though. I know who she was but cannot talk about it or her. The face of the image was key. Prior to that wondrous slice of impossibility, I was on some land which felt like the north of which I have spoken for many years. Rather like a farm, perhaps. A bunch of people, a crane and a big truck, and something else. There were two girls there, although by roughly halfway through the dream I had only seen one. I was trying to figure out how to help with whatever was being loaded onto the truck and preoccupied knowing the girl was close. And then we were in the kitchen of what appeared to be a cabin. The guy who operated the crane had been an acquaintance of mine and we were trying to learn a board game from the girl to my left. At that point I noticed she was tall and slender, much like the ‘image’. Somehow, and without words, I knew inside that she wanted to be with me, from the simplicity of sitting together and holding hands to speaking of deep-seated personal issues. Nothing physical, but my brain always seems to head in such a direction, meaning the desire was likely somewhere in my head. Not far at all. And then a door opened (like a narrow or ‘queen’ door on a mobile home) and out stepped the tall girls’ near-twin fucking sister wearing a sundress. I then realized they were both in the same type of dress with hair up. Very thin, as in thinner than I typically see in society. I could tell the shorter (younger, I think) sister was not wearing a bra because I could see right through her dress in the light. That little kitchen was becoming a very compelling situation for me. For whatever reason, I already knew I would end up with arms around me, the biggest and most powerful need in life. And then awake, worried, and still in the mindset of being warm and joyful. The two girls in the kitchen were a corollary to the sisters at the pool in Paradise three years ago. I know it. I’ve spoken of them far too much to have pushed them out of my head. As for the second dream which I mentioned first, that ‘image’ was vastly different and has now smashed my heart to pieces. Something impossible had developed. Impossible, like everything else. Rather than knowing such a fact and sitting here bitching, I was right in the middle of it and very relieved. Now? Not only am I back at square one, but worse off. This feels as if true happiness was handed to me and then torn away along with the words, ‘Just kidding’. I have this entire day to do whatever seems best. The axles arrived yesterday so I could rebuild everything at the bench. I could also continue reconfiguring the house. Or perhaps I might move a few things around in the garage and separate some items for donation soon. Or I could begin hitting the bottle earlier than usual and sit right here typing about those three fucking girls until I fall asleep and drop the laptop on the floor. You wanna talk about being hit right over the head? This could kill me. I can still see her smiling at me and being more affectionate than can be put into words. Very loving, caring and beautiful. And then she disappeared and I am right where I always am. Sometimes I sit here and point out the positive aspects of not needing to be in the workforce. There are many advantages to being home all the time. That last word is one of them. I really do try to focus on the good points of this situation. Unfortunately, the bad points of life outweigh them by about a billion times. Yesterday at this time I had a hell of a time trying to keep my head up and out of the din. I barely made it. This morning is much worse. I was right where I needed to be – twice – and then everything went away. Those two girls at the pool three years ago have caused more turmoil inside me than almost anything else in memory. They were with me, in my eyes and heart, and then disappeared just as quickly. Whatever force is responsible for toying with me should be violently destroyed. Now I have to go on with my day as if I am no worse off than usual. Oh boy, I really don’t need to see Cara and her flowing hair right now. Maybe I should not have run this program today. Jesus. Her fucking lips and eyes are wondrous. I really need to... Ah... We are very close to the scene I thought was funny. No one else did, though. There are too many images in my head, none of which are real. Either they are situations which played out in the past or dreams I have created inside to deal with being alone. Too many. The main ‘image’ causes its fair share of issues and comes to the surface of my thinking at some point every fucking day. Oh, God... The scene. Well, one of three. Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes. God damn it, I would have worshiped her forever. Anyway, that daily thing took me over for the last two mornings and created quite the bad mood. I can already feel it happening right now and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The dreams earlier this morning really hit me hard. I don’t need that shit. At the same time, I truly understand how these visions can drive my subconscious into the ground and jade my sleep time. I dwell on so much shit that I am surprised the dreams don’t come around more often. I am still here. I’ve done nothing, taken no steps. Still typing, still working on the truck, still finishing the routine each day. Still dreaming of impossibilities. 0812. Second cup. I need to climb inside Jamie’s fucking eyes and live there forever. Cara’s pants; Jamie’s eyes. There are switches inside me which have flipped to a bad position and fused themselves for all time. All kinds of shit going wrong in me. I am head over heels in love with a fictional character, dreaming of impossible situations for which I fucking YEARN throughout every Goddamned day of every Goddamned week, and still sit in this very spot trying to understand how this all happened. I know some, but not everything. I need to know like I need Jamie to hold me and tell me everything will be alright. Damn this condition. Just... Damn it all. I am so fucked up that even I can’t believe it sometimes. I think this is the end of the entry. Going on and on about this crap is not helping. Sometimes I tend to railroad the ideas too much. This is compelling, you must understand, and I sit here in pain and trying to reach for whatever may help. I am constantly searching and it hurts. The work around the house helps for an hour or so. The work on the truck can distract me from reality and place me in a little bubble for a measure of time. Soon enough, though, everything comes back forcefully and halts my life. I turn to each side and look around the room, but nothing is there. There is nothing on the doorstep. The phone is not ringing and never will. I will say that up to this fucking point I had been hanging on for the most part. The dreams earlier this morning hit me harder than I thought possible. That was the worst pair of slams to my brain imaginable. Exactly what I’ve been daydreaming for a very long time... Right there. Arms to hold me, the ‘image’ to help me, and the knowledge that everything was finally going to be ok. Gone. I need a fucking break from this shit." 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
October 15th, 2022 8:34am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Images of Impossibility (Her III) read ( words) "Caitlin and Cristin up there right now. They portray sisters and could not be more different. I’ve mentioned before that Caitlin’s smile is unbelievably adorable and sweet despite her being twice the size of the absolutely tiny Cristin. The casting is interesting. Both are beautiful, although due to her huge eyes, I’ve looked upon Cristin much differently in the past. You know the rest. Slender; dark; alluring... And the fucking eyes. Sometimes the imagery gets the best of me. It is too powerful and I cannot do shit about what is inside me. In fact, there may be no way of saving my life, ‘her’ or otherwise. The ‘girl’ and the ‘image’ can combine all fucking day long and the result will not make a lick of difference. Too much has pushed me down. Deeper down, just like the song. The only difference between his unfortunate journey and mine is the use of one key phrase. ‘Self pity’. I have none of it. What I do have is a plethora of recollections, both good and bad. The bad have scarred me. No cosmetic surgery can correct them, either. The imagery got the best of me today. Down we go. 0950, and the alcohol shall flow into me very soon. This may be my last football season. As many times as I’ve brought that up, the more days that disappear under my trucks show me nothing bright in the future, only blackness. Resistance of the only type I am capable. Control of the only type I may have. Relief through the only method available. The imagery is killing me. I need ‘her’, but alas she does not exist, nor do the answers. Here I am with cocktail in hand – a huge, modified White Russian with orange vodka – and the time is 1038. The routine will not take long thanks to a simple dinner last night and my having swept the entire house yesterday. There is nothing on the television right now, though. I don’t know what to put up there. The gangsters are out for the time being due to the current episode carrying two of the most unreal visions of Jamie. Yep, her again. I may need to begin capitalizing the pronoun when I refer to her, much like the Raven. Two loves, one real and gone, the other completely insane, unbalanced and impossible. Whatever. I love her anyway. Maybe the fourth show can run for a while. I am not a healthy person, but at least I have decent taste in storylines. The public works department is conducting smoke tests of the sewer system at this very moment. They left notice twice to inform idiots that any fixtures left dry for too long will allow the water in the traps to evaporate, resulting in smoke coming out of the drains. People should already be aware of the dangers of methane, however. I went outside to see if smoke was emanating from plumbing vents on the roofs, but nothing. Darn. I was hoping to see some drama out there. One consideration? I have the utmost respect for this city caring for the infrastructure. One more reason to love the town. Also, my hardware from McMaster arrived this morning. That means I can tool around with the truck for a while. Hopefully, the sun will make an appearance today. I am beginning to forget what it looks like. Heh. The ocean is right down the street, meaning the weather is constantly tempered by cold water. I wouldn’t have it any other way. After waiting more than two decades to live near the sea, I’m happy to ‘see’ that the weather is everything I had hoped. As I get older, however, warm sunshine is becoming more comfortable than it was when I lived in the valley. Not fucking Arizona heat, but something decent enough to allow me to be comfortable in the garage. Again... Heh. Good stuff, this vodka. I’m gonna say this straight out, for whatever it may be worth. The following statement pretty much sums up the unbelievable levels of desperation and weakness inside me. I am completely in love with her. Yes, I love her more than ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD, and that includes actual living, breathing human beings. The more I see her and hear her voice, the more I love her. Never in my life could I have imagined being so off-kilter, especially at my age and considering all I’ve done for the last few decades. And there is an obvious problem with how I feel... 'What if love's intolerable pain never leaves us? Do we dash our bleeding hearts on the rocks of loneliness? And cry unto the lords above who turn away in haste?' I don’t believe I would feel so strongly had that fucking dream not entered my sleep state. That was the BEST feeling ever in my life, yet it disappeared as quickly as it was created. She was holding my hand in a way I can’t easily describe. Believe me, I’ve been held in ways that nearly solved all the problems in the world, most recently eleven years ago. That woman looked upon me and held tight as if to telegraph her wishes to fix every fucking issue in my head. I’m not fucking kidding, either. I can’t go too far with this shit, though. There will be backlash and flak for the rest of my life (unless I shorten the duration). Just know that the closest, loving embrace in memory was destroyed by yours truly. She was real. Jamie’s character is not, and therein lies one of the largest fucking conundrums of my entire life. I am so far gone that I still wish for her. Yep, I said that. I still wish for us to be close even though there is a long list of reasons outlining the sheer impossibility of such a need. Maybe I am just fucking stupid. The dream of Jamie and I walking pretty much cemented everything I felt for her and added a facet of tangibility to the tone of my heartstrings. And she doesn’t exist. The other one does exist. I know she does. Her arms were around me, and that is a daily thought. This whole paragraph is a steaming pile of shit atop a mountain of snow. I am fucked. 1519. I finished everything and worked on the truck for a little while. The drive motor is kind of crappy, but I wired it through tubing anyway. It will be protected from suspension components and the driveshaft. If I decide to replace the motor in the future, the wiring scheme will not change (hopefully). The order from McMaster arrived, too. I replaced the thumb nuts on the axles with coupling nuts and split-lock washers. When I had the truck moving around the floor the other day, the wheels were trying to loosen, and that is bad. Now that I am very close to operating the vehicle autonomously, I can’t have parts falling off all the time. Everything must be secured. Once the mounts arrive in the mail, I can fabricate a custom antenna structure so range is maximized. Right now it is bundled next to the receiver. That is fine while the transmitter is close, although I would lose signal very easily going much further down the driveway. I’ve wanted to build such a mount since this project began. Typical surface vehicles have very short antennae, however I am using a radio designed for aircraft, meaning the receiver antenna is nearly three feet long. I’m hoping my idea looks decent when finished. The girl has been in my head all day long. Who? That’s the key question. I wish I knew. ‘Nothing unreal exists.’ 0734 on Tuesday morning with the usual shit going on. The morning business is complete and I am going to sit at the computer for as long as I care to. No gangsters. My head is sideways. The clock is on my side right now, though. The entire day is wide open other than my routine and a few things to clean. The garage is all fucked up due to the new bed, meaning I have to get out there after lunch and do some straightening. The next holiday is Halloween, so the area must be clear so my displays are fully visible. I can take care of things by close of business. No problem. Help me 1121. The routine is finished and I went to the market for some items to round out dinner tonight. Nothing going on over there. That’s why I typically visit that place mid-morning. I don’t need any more shit on the pile. I switched to the gangsters since the storyline goes well with whiskey. Not funny. I’ve already been floored by her eyes. You can see them all down the page. And here is the scene... Shit. I have to stare because she has become the most powerful thought in my head as combined with the three terms, 'her', 'girl', and 'image', although the last one doesn't completely relate. I can't explain, either. Some thoughts in my brain have to be left out of this endeavor for good form. Plus, Jamie is all about love and nothing else. Don’t ask. The image is very difficult to consider because of the problems I’ve already had to endure for decades. There is a type of understanding with regard to the image, and likely one which cannot come to pass in real life. The ‘girl’? Well, she has become my savior, and as such, relates to Jamie due to the dream of us being together. Yes, I know such a thought is fucking ridiculous and ill-advised for a person already dangling from the threads of life, but I just can’t fucking help it anymore. The need has taken over most of my existence. The minuscule upside is that she has been captured on video for all time. There are ten fucking downsides, too, but I don’t like to consider them when daydreaming of us holding hands. I feel more for her every day. Believe it. Every other aspect of my consciousness is driven by dreams and impossibilities, so why not throw myself completely into the idea of Jamie saving my life? Can anyone else? Can I stay alive just to see her big, beautiful eyes on the screen? The ‘image’ fades from time to time, thankfully. There are more important matters in my heart than what that fucking picture provides. 1655. I did a bunch of cleaning and relocated the twin bed to the spare bedroom. That was a pain, but it’s done. I also spent some time working on the steering system to shore up the drag links. Everything seems fine, although the Teflon spacers which connect the tubing to each adjustment screw are strained when the system operates. That means they end up giving in to the force of the motor and skew when it moves the wire ropes. After all the shit I went through trying to keep everything isolated enough to transfer power to the axles with loss at a minimum, I don’t need more problems. Isolation is very good, but the tubing still needs to flex when the suspension moves. This is one more notch toward replacing the entire shitaree with two fucking servos. I just don’t know if I want to get into that amount of work after all this time. While in the garage, I daydreamed almost constantly about that situation I used to imagine at five in the morning waiting to go to work. My desperation continues to grow. Thankfully, I have not dreamed of the girl for weeks. This serves to show just how fucked up I am. Whilst in the middle of a very technical operation, my brain swings back and forth from the mechanics of the truck to the mechanics of beauty. Ugh. One good thing is the daughter board has already been manufactured and shipped. The forecasted arrival is just two days from now. That is fantastic. I have everything ready to build the system into the main board and make connections. That company is more efficient than advertised, plus they ship faster than expected. This is just the little boost I needed. 0650 on Wednesday morning. Strange dreams all morning (thanks, Frank). None of the other dreams, thank goodness. As much as I’d like to see and kiss her again, the fact is anything along those lines will affect me. I’ve already seen it. Honestly? I miss seeing her. Shit. I need to take care of the early business. Pause. 0741 and the clock is mine for a while. I actually put the news on this morning while working in the kitchen, something I typically avoid due to the mass of bad news and stupid people. I learned that the drought is going to drive food prices up further due to planting limits in the state. Ouch. I’ve already seen mayonnaise on the shelf for just under twelve dollars a quart. Holy shit. And the prices are going to rise? Not good, but I do know that the water is fucking scarce right now. I’m going to switch from serving cat food in ramekins to dropping it on plates that can be composted in order to further lower the water usage while cleaning the kitchen. This is bad. Sometimes I think the drought is causing more problems now than the fuel price hike last spring. Everything is expensive these days, to be honest, but I didn’t really pay much attention until ordering some household items last year and noticed the difference in price. It was a big jump. After that, I began to look more carefully before simply clicking items into my shopping cart. I guess the news this morning has me thinking about the water and inflation. Sometimes I worry, other times not so much. When I do worry, I think of people that are not in a position to handle the increasing food costs, such as those with children or in difficult financial situations (or both). Not a day goes by, nor do I consume anything without considering what has been taking place since the beginning of the pandemic. Not a fucking day. I’m going out of my mind over here. The image comes and goes, often leaving me a pile of worry and discomfort. I still don’t understand how that came to pass in the first place, not to mention the other situation that sends me flying every fucking time. My brain will not let go enough for me to relax thought processes and work through a day without issue. I keep thinking of the dreams, my words regarding Jolene and her unbelievable form (probably not very nice of me), Jamie’s loving arms, and then those pictures forever etched into me by the dreams from a few months ago. The image is going to drive me fucking crazy. I just don’t understand, and this is one of the few times in the life of the site that I will point out the situation is unfair. There you go. Crucify me. And then fuck off. I will soon be all the way out of my mind, a state which carries too many caveats to list, even here. This is not fucking good. Had I known society was going to affect me to such a degree, I would have removed myself long ago. Nothing good is on my horizon. I just need to see... 1023 and the routine is nearly finished. I am allowing the dishes to drip dry for a little while so I can calculate the antenna mounts. I swept and took care of the cat litter and then immediately moved to the kitchen to clean. All the while, that fucking image would not let go of me, even with the fourth show in the background. I can feel myself falling down at this very moment. At some point after the whiskey glass is empty (I need the numbing effect every fucking day), I will be venturing north to the goddess market for some vegetables, dropping off a coat at the cleaners, and picking up cigarettes around the corner from the latter. I really don’t want any strikes derailing my efforts in caring for business. Unfortunately, the idea is decidedly beyond my control. Yes, I have control over my eyes and where they turn, but after all this time and a shitload of problems – not the least of which is living every day far beyond the limits of desperation – my subconscious operates without my knowledge. As important as it is for me to avoid seeing what is wandering out there in society, as of yet I have not found the ability to look away. Sometimes I wish my eyes would stop working. The image is becoming more and more powerful as time passes and there may be nothing I can do about it. I have never felt so weak. And I cannot spell out the image. Live with it. Some thoughts in my head are driven by the world and must remain under wraps. 1704. I accomplished little more than the routine and shopping today. My trip to the market was uneventful, as were the other two stops. No big deal. I also modified the new brackets and finished the antenna mounts. I don’t know if I’m going to further adapt the routing, though. Perhaps when I look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes, another idea may flow. Throughout this entire afternoon, the image of her continued to swirl, thus slowing any potential work on the project. That means the antenna routing may not look the same when I stare at it after taking a break. The image again slammed me after making preparations for dinner a little while ago. I went to the garage to rest and have a cigarette, all the while the imagery and those wondrous situations I’ve been envisioning for months gripped my head and would not let go. They remain enmeshed despite the fourth show. This is not good. I suppose the upside is having finished everything I set out to do prior to falling down, but that is a grim payment. I fucking hate this shit and have been driven to it by others. The girl, image, her, or whatever the hell happens to be the focus shoved into my head by decades of circumstances has no mercy and derails my thinking and effort too often. I fucking hate it. Please 0648 on Thursday morning. I am going to try placing yesterday afternoon aside so I can enjoy my quiet morning. This is, after all, one of the biggest benefits of not working every day. I do have the morning business, but before and most notably after are peaceful moments through which I can think clearly. Even when there is massive trouble inside me, the quiet morning helps. 0745 and the morning crap is out of the way. The rest of the shit in my world is all rolled up inside my head, unfortunately. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. For fuck’s sake... Why is this so difficult? Does everyone have images in their heads? Not that I give a shit, though. Just curious. I keep seeing her over and over and fucking over, the thoughts beginning to remove detail from whatever I may be attempting at the time. Pushing. Shoving. I have no way of ceasing the daily takeover of my brain power. There is nothing I can do about this, no pair of ears or understanding eyes awaiting my concerns, nor is there any reality attached to my need to be with her. At this point in time, I am seeing myself repeating the same thoughts, such as needing her, dreams, or what the visions do to me while I’m trying to work at something. There must be some kind of change in this content or nothing will ever come of the effort. Well, I don’t expect anything to happen, honestly, because the time for ‘good’ things in my life is over. Gone. I just have my devices, none of which have the power to keep me away from damage. I have to do something about this situation. No, not my life. I am only referring to what I say here. This is one of three parts of my existence that matters to me. Just one of three. Wow. I put the gangsters back on so I can listen. There is going to be gorgeous footage of Jamie, but I may miss some because my head is about as sideways as it can get. Right now my brain is pointed toward Jolene as Jamie is very different. My feelings are not the same, so perhaps the show may not bother me this morning. Eh... It doesn’t matter. Very little matters to me anymore. Thanks, world. I can already see that the issues are going to keep me down today. There are so many memories and ‘reasons’ spinning circles inside right now that I don’t know what kind of path may help. Well, I truly know what can help me, but every idea is either gone from my life or impossible in the first place. Splendid. This day will go down in history. The daughter board is scheduled to be delivered today. Normally I would be excited about the expansion of my project and the prospect of straightening some problems that have been nagging at me for years. The board was a great idea. Unfortunately, the entirety of the truck work and whatever possible improvements may be taking place, my emotional state has been overpowering the good. I can’t fucking focus. ‘She’ is in control of my life right now. I can’t even go into the ‘image’, though. That shit is another universe, and one I will never see come to pass. The reasons are flying away. I always liked Julianna’s hair in this episode. Sometimes I want her hair on my head. Never mind. My hair is not what it once was, that’s all. Another little fact that brings me down. As I said above, there has been too much going over the same information on the site lately. I can’t say I know what to do about such a fact, either. No clue. What I do know is continuing to tread the same shit over and over for months says something about my condition. I have always been a very technically-minded person (not to mention having been involved in some pretty fucking complex electronic and mechanical disciplines), meaning when there is an issue to which I can’t find a solution, my head will not let go of it, ever. Sitting here right now? There are three issues that I cannot solve. Three. One is fucking awful, too. I don’t understand why things must be as they are right now, and my inability to work through anything is the most likely cause for repeating myself so often. Either that, or I simply ran out of other things to say. Pick one. Both possibilities are horrible. I’ve continued to mention that I’m going to lose my shit or flip the fuck out, perhaps both. It’s coming, believe me. No way around it anymore. I have to get to the routine very soon so I can relax for a while. I always feel better when it’s done. I also need to go to the market for one vegetable because I forgot it yesterday. Not the goddess market. The other one. I don’t know what to do now. Down, down, and more down. Alcohol? Very soon. The coffee is gone. 1049 with a very gray sky outside. My head is gray, too. I finished the kitchen and have some things ready for dinner tonight, and through that work I’ve had a fatass glass of whiskey. The gangsters are still on the television along with one of the most striking and beautiful scenes involving Jamie’s huge eyes. God damn do I ever love that woman... More with each sighting. She is just another impossible dream to float among the rest. I may as well ask for the Passion. That is how bad I am right now. Moreover, the morning has not been good for my physical condition. I am fucking miserable right now. The daughter board will be dropped on the porch at some point, yet the excitement has flown away with my dreams. Maybe upon seeing their impeccable work for a second time I will feel a little better. Nothing can help with the physical crap, though. Nothing. I feel like turning my head into a canoe. That is not a joke. There is only one thing keeping me breathing. I may switch back to the third show, one that has run on my television in its entirety four fucking times just this year. There is some sort of comfort I have derived through the stories and characters recently and I can’t explain it. I love those people. Hmm... I just realized that everything I love does not exist in reality. Isn’t that just peachy? The third show, as I’ve mentioned before, carries with it a few key moments that bring tears to my eyes, yet I can’t skip to the episodes in question. I have to see it play out in order to build the canon. I am a very strange person. I am in love with Jamie and some girl to which I have referred as ‘her’, both being unreal. Un-fucking-real, and not at all possible in this life or the next. I may as well just pull the trigger. That is likely the only solution to the dreams. I am in the mindset to get fucking hammered and make a mess of everything. Yep... Angry. I did not ask for this shit. There are issues piled atop problems piled atop issues. Fucking sick of it. I believe the best course for the remainder of this day is to await the daughter board and then build it with some very unpleasant music in the background. Not terribly loud, just a genre no one I know could enjoy. The message is clear, however. All the way back to my nephew and I exploring the darker, more compelling side of a possible lifestyle, I’ve embraced the violent ideas and sonic onslaught for the simple reason that I needed it in order to deal with this downtrodden existence within an uncaring, unfeeling society. We felt the way we did (I can’t go into detail for fear of someone knocking at my door) and I made it clear that if he ever noticed my home phone going away, there would be one more step into the real forest. That was the fucking cable television. Well, I have neither at this moment. Make of that what you will. Jesus fucking Christ would I ever love to dive into Cara’s pants and spend an hour showing her just how much pent-up desire resides within me. I will not apologize for stating that I need to plant my lips to her most intimate space. Fuck off. Anyway, today is the type of mental atmosphere which drives me away from people. Holy shit, there she is again. Cara was unreal when this was filmed. Jesus. Let's see... Dark hair, dark eyes, Italian descent... Sound familiar? I swear to fucking Christ, the most beautiful women in the world come from one of two places. Ooh-fa... Janice the drama queen of the universe. Heh. God bless Aida and her amazing work on this show. Oh, God. If she only knew that I would FUCKING DIE to make her smile for five seconds. That would require her being a real person. And someone in my life. And during the period when this was filmed. And a person straight out of my dreams. Save me 0736 on a very gray Friday morning. My living room lamp is still lit. That is how dim the sky is outside. We will be turning back the clocks an hour in a few weeks. I think it's just after the holiday. So far this morning I have been preoccupied with consideration of my condition, meaning all the bad stuff has not been allowed to creep in. I have to ensure my head stays this way for as long as possible. The difficulty shall return soon enough. It always does. Yesterday’s pitfall became slightly offset by the daughter board arriving earlier than I had anticipated. I cared for some business and then received a notification that the box had been dropped on the porch. Within an hour of unboxing the two boards (I always get an extra just in case), I had one built and mounted on the main system. Within another thirty minutes, everything was wired and operating as I had hoped. Maybe I went too fast with that project. Anyway, I had to do a bunch of soldering after the fact just to get the wires routed neatly and to allow the main board to swing upward without tensioning anything. By early afternoon, the truck was again in one piece and awaiting the new wheel axles (which should arrive today). My time in the garage was interrupted several times by my head wandering into places it should not be allowed. The morning left me victimized by dreams. All of that carried on into the late afternoon and evening. Oh, and right now, too. There is no way around this shit anymore. At least I am pleased with the appearance of my board modifications. The way I see it, if the project is going to do nothing more than sit on my workbench, it may as well look good. The fourth show is on again. I wanted to avoid Jamie’s eyes and what they do to me. Not her specifically, but the ‘her’ to which I’ve been speaking lately. She is a dream, and I need her to hold me. When I see the big eyes on the television, I think of such emotion looking at me, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Not good. Maybe I switch programs when I hit the routine in a little while. Right now I have to leave that woman out of my vision. A representation of everything impossible and missing is just not what I fucking need. I’ve seen too much, damn it. Once in a while, the sight of Jamie or someone else on the television brings on the ‘image’, and such a thing happened yesterday afternoon when I returned to the house from my garage. Again, I saw too much. My brain ran with it and soon I was losing my shit not long before the need to prepare dinner. Well, I simply could not have that kind of thing so I had to shut it down forcibly. That operation helped the booze to flow and soon I was numb enough to let the imagery go. I felt very weak on several occasions yesterday, not the least of which was mid-morning just before my board was delivered. Very weak, for sure. The next occasion was just after the truck work was completed, and then into the afternoon with my imagination taking hold and leveraging until I was nearly unable to do anything. I know how those moments happened. I really do. Everything boils down to loss, believe it or not. The ‘image’ relates to the same. Today must roll along sans reminders of the past. I just can’t fucking have it today. In addition, I have to visit the market, meaning anything already causing difficulty in my brain will be amplified by what I may see. One more time for posterity... This is all so fucking stupid. I don’t believe I’ve said anything new in months. 1142. I finished the daily routine, fueled my car and went shopping at the market. Suffice to say, I was overjoyed to return home and pour a big glass of medicine. Now I have lunch in the oven – a la frozen pizza – and the remaining hours are wide open. Unfortunately, much of the drive to head out the door and take care of business stemmed from a fall of epic proportions. After a cigarette and my subsequent implosion, I forced the issue and left the house. Something had to happen at that point or I never would have moved further than the bar in the dining room. As you may well know, if I enjoy more than one cocktail during the early part of the day, bad things happen. I will typically don the MDRs and wallow in a pool of anger and discontent. I can honestly say I’ve avoided that pit for a very long time and do not intend to fall so deep into depression if I can at all help it. The morning ‘fall off a cliff’ is weighing heavily right now. I really need those fucking axles to arrive so I can drown into the truck for a while. The alternative is not good. The ‘image’ got the best of me and I could not recover without much anger. ‘She’ is not here. I have no help whatsoever, and if you continue to believe that the exposition on this fucking site is serving to assist me in daily life, pull your fucking head out of your ass. I sit here and type because I don’t understand how or why I turned out this way. Oh, of course there have been incidents and situations driving nails into my skull for decades, but I honestly did not experience such a dire condition years ago. There was a hell of a scrape in zero-three and then another in eleven. I was the catalyst of both. I believe the Raven period faded somewhat due to my learning coping methods twelve years earlier. I actually feel worse right now than I did while dreaming and yearning to be near Her. I wish I could learn of the real reasons for this desperation. I’ve stated that some are already understood, but I can’t accept the fact that those reasons caused everything currently in my head. That is bullshit. Either I made one too many left turns or not enough. Pick one. The MDRs are looking more and more appealing. The last time I wore them during a weekday? There was a revolver resting snugly within my belt. Just think of how much crap could have been avoided, and then attempt to tell me I am wrong. Try me. I could sum up everything and put an end to the site with one, simple fact: Due to daydreaming and envisioning for a very long time, I’ve realized that what I want and need is not possible, meaning real life is never going to measure up. And yes, I know just how clichéd that statement seems, but the truth is that I already know happiness will not fucking happen, nor will good things come along in my life. So, do I continue to type words here? Maybe just a description of the truck progress? Give me a fucking answer because I sure as hell can’t figure it out. Roxann is so freakin’ adorable sometimes. The damaging dream is not governing my life right now. The ‘image’ has taken over that spot, not to mention the imaginary possibility that the ‘image’ can be attached to ‘her’; such a combination becoming the utopian vision I should not be seeking. Lines. Numbers. Understanding. Everything is congealing and being collated because I no longer have reason to avoid something even more ridiculous than those ideas I’ve already laid out here. Jolaimora? I would lick more than ‘her’ ears. And I am beginning to see the basement, at long last. I am a crazy person, a dangerous individual with which to deal, and a person moving ever further outside the real world. Everything I see is impossible, yet I cannot fucking stop the process. I’m sure the dream will return and carry with it a ton of imagery I would be better off not seeing. This will happen soon. I already know. My head is skewed enough to realize that whatever can hurt me will never go away. I recall the fictional conversation with that bartender. You know... The one I wrote. It hurt me. I created one image of impossibility from my own fucking mind and the words came right back and stabbed me in the heart. I thought it was important at the time. Later? Pain. I still fucking hear about it. Don’t ask. 1457. I went to help with a job about two miles from here for an hour. No big deal, but I don’t believe in my current state I could work all day long, or more. I have an invitation to help in a couple of weeks, too. Right now I just don’t know how well I could handle being away from home for so many hours. Back in January, I worked across the bay for a couple of days and it ended up turning into a nearly full-time operation. We went to the City and a job down the coast for a little while, and then were scheduled to go back to the City. At that point I bowed out. Around the third day I began to feel very uncomfortable being out of my element. All these months later? One full day could very well leave me all fucked up. I will say that for an hour I forgot about everything. That is better than nothing, I guess. Now I am home for the remainder of the day and within the calming atmosphere I so desperately need. I may head to the garage and disassemble the steering hubs to prepare for the new axles. I don’t know what the fuck to do now. Nothing seems appealing. Where do I live? 0704. Saturday morning and two of the most stirring visions in memory. No, not the damage or the bra strap. Not even those hands that went to the same place. This was different. For a long time there has been the ‘image’. I have spoken about it mostly in the last few entries. Prior to recently tying the three terms together and speaking of them often as one, I considered the image daily, and I can honestly say it is likely the most difficult part of my psyche. Well, since discussing it here, there has often been a face attached for clarity – much like those smiles of which I spoke. This morning? That face was with me. The very fact which altered my thinking in such directions and created the most uncomfortable, dire situation in years. She was real, and she was with me. Sharp shoulders, slender features, very tall and with long, brown hair. Smiling at me? Oh yes, that too. Someone else was present, though. I know who she was but cannot talk about it or her. The face of the image was key. Prior to that wondrous slice of impossibility, I was on some land which felt like the north of which I have spoken for many years. Rather like a farm, perhaps. A bunch of people, a crane and a big truck, and something else. There were two girls there, although by roughly halfway through the dream I had only seen one. I was trying to figure out how to help with whatever was being loaded onto the truck and preoccupied knowing the girl was close. And then we were in the kitchen of what appeared to be a cabin. The guy who operated the crane had been an acquaintance of mine and we were trying to learn a board game from the girl to my left. At that point I noticed she was tall and slender, much like the ‘image’. Somehow, and without words, I knew inside that she wanted to be with me, from the simplicity of sitting together and holding hands to speaking of deep-seated personal issues. Nothing physical, but my brain always seems to head in such a direction, meaning the desire was likely somewhere in my head. Not far at all. And then a door opened (like a narrow or ‘queen’ door on a mobile home) and out stepped the tall girls’ near-twin fucking sister wearing a sundress. I then realized they were both in the same type of dress with hair up. Very thin, as in thinner than I typically see in society. I could tell the shorter (younger, I think) sister was not wearing a bra because I could see right through her dress in the light. That little kitchen was becoming a very compelling situation for me. For whatever reason, I already knew I would end up with arms around me, the biggest and most powerful need in life. And then awake, worried, and still in the mindset of being warm and joyful. The two girls in the kitchen were a corollary to the sisters at the pool in Paradise three years ago. I know it. I’ve spoken of them far too much to have pushed them out of my head. As for the second dream which I mentioned first, that ‘image’ was vastly different and has now smashed my heart to pieces. Something impossible had developed. Impossible, like everything else. Rather than knowing such a fact and sitting here bitching, I was right in the middle of it and very relieved. Now? Not only am I back at square one, but worse off. This feels as if true happiness was handed to me and then torn away along with the words, ‘Just kidding’. I have this entire day to do whatever seems best. The axles arrived yesterday so I could rebuild everything at the bench. I could also continue reconfiguring the house. Or perhaps I might move a few things around in the garage and separate some items for donation soon. Or I could begin hitting the bottle earlier than usual and sit right here typing about those three fucking girls until I fall asleep and drop the laptop on the floor. You wanna talk about being hit right over the head? This could kill me. I can still see her smiling at me and being more affectionate than can be put into words. Very loving, caring and beautiful. And then she disappeared and I am right where I always am. Sometimes I sit here and point out the positive aspects of not needing to be in the workforce. There are many advantages to being home all the time. That last word is one of them. I really do try to focus on the good points of this situation. Unfortunately, the bad points of life outweigh them by about a billion times. Yesterday at this time I had a hell of a time trying to keep my head up and out of the din. I barely made it. This morning is much worse. I was right where I needed to be – twice – and then everything went away. Those two girls at the pool three years ago have caused more turmoil inside me than almost anything else in memory. They were with me, in my eyes and heart, and then disappeared just as quickly. Whatever force is responsible for toying with me should be violently destroyed. Now I have to go on with my day as if I am no worse off than usual. Oh boy, I really don’t need to see Cara and her flowing hair right now. Maybe I should not have run this program today. Jesus. Her fucking lips and eyes are wondrous. I really need to... Ah... We are very close to the scene I thought was funny. No one else did, though. There are too many images in my head, none of which are real. Either they are situations which played out in the past or dreams I have created inside to deal with being alone. Too many. The main ‘image’ causes its fair share of issues and comes to the surface of my thinking at some point every fucking day. Oh, God... The scene. Well, one of three. Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes. God damn it, I would have worshiped her forever. Anyway, that daily thing took me over for the last two mornings and created quite the bad mood. I can already feel it happening right now and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The dreams earlier this morning really hit me hard. I don’t need that shit. At the same time, I truly understand how these visions can drive my subconscious into the ground and jade my sleep time. I dwell on so much shit that I am surprised the dreams don’t come around more often. I am still here. I’ve done nothing, taken no steps. Still typing, still working on the truck, still finishing the routine each day. Still dreaming of impossibilities. 0812. Second cup. I need to climb inside Jamie’s fucking eyes and live there forever. Cara’s pants; Jamie’s eyes. There are switches inside me which have flipped to a bad position and fused themselves for all time. All kinds of shit going wrong in me. I am head over heels in love with a fictional character, dreaming of impossible situations for which I fucking YEARN throughout every Goddamned day of every Goddamned week, and still sit in this very spot trying to understand how this all happened. I know some, but not everything. I need to know like I need Jamie to hold me and tell me everything will be alright. Damn this condition. Just... Damn it all. I am so fucked up that even I can’t believe it sometimes. I think this is the end of the entry. Going on and on about this crap is not helping. Sometimes I tend to railroad the ideas too much. This is compelling, you must understand, and I sit here in pain and trying to reach for whatever may help. I am constantly searching and it hurts. The work around the house helps for an hour or so. The work on the truck can distract me from reality and place me in a little bubble for a measure of time. Soon enough, though, everything comes back forcefully and halts my life. I turn to each side and look around the room, but nothing is there. There is nothing on the doorstep. The phone is not ringing and never will. I will say that up to this fucking point I had been hanging on for the most part. The dreams earlier this morning hit me harder than I thought possible. That was the worst pair of slams to my brain imaginable. Exactly what I’ve been daydreaming for a very long time... Right there. Arms to hold me, the ‘image’ to help me, and the knowledge that everything was finally going to be ok. Gone. I need a fucking break from this shit."
October 15th, 2022 8:34am pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Images of Impossibility (Her III)
read ( words)
"Caitlin and Cristin up there right now. They portray sisters and could not be more different. I’ve mentioned before that Caitlin’s smile is unbelievably adorable and sweet despite her being twice the size of the absolutely tiny Cristin. The casting is interesting. Both are beautiful, although due to her huge eyes, I’ve looked upon Cristin much differently in the past. You know the rest. Slender; dark; alluring... And the fucking eyes. Sometimes the imagery gets the best of me. It is too powerful and I cannot do shit about what is inside me. In fact, there may be no way of saving my life, ‘her’ or otherwise. The ‘girl’ and the ‘image’ can combine all fucking day long and the result will not make a lick of difference. Too much has pushed me down. Deeper down, just like the song. The only difference between his unfortunate journey and mine is the use of one key phrase. ‘Self pity’. I have none of it. What I do have is a plethora of recollections, both good and bad. The bad have scarred me. No cosmetic surgery can correct them, either. The imagery got the best of me today. Down we go. 0950, and the alcohol shall flow into me very soon. This may be my last football season. As many times as I’ve brought that up, the more days that disappear under my trucks show me nothing bright in the future, only blackness. Resistance of the only type I am capable. Control of the only type I may have. Relief through the only method available. The imagery is killing me. I need ‘her’, but alas she does not exist, nor do the answers. Here I am with cocktail in hand – a huge, modified White Russian with orange vodka – and the time is 1038. The routine will not take long thanks to a simple dinner last night and my having swept the entire house yesterday. There is nothing on the television right now, though. I don’t know what to put up there. The gangsters are out for the time being due to the current episode carrying two of the most unreal visions of Jamie. Yep, her again. I may need to begin capitalizing the pronoun when I refer to her, much like the Raven. Two loves, one real and gone, the other completely insane, unbalanced and impossible. Whatever. I love her anyway. Maybe the fourth show can run for a while. I am not a healthy person, but at least I have decent taste in storylines. The public works department is conducting smoke tests of the sewer system at this very moment. They left notice twice to inform idiots that any fixtures left dry for too long will allow the water in the traps to evaporate, resulting in smoke coming out of the drains. People should already be aware of the dangers of methane, however. I went outside to see if smoke was emanating from plumbing vents on the roofs, but nothing. Darn. I was hoping to see some drama out there. One consideration? I have the utmost respect for this city caring for the infrastructure. One more reason to love the town. Also, my hardware from McMaster arrived this morning. That means I can tool around with the truck for a while. Hopefully, the sun will make an appearance today. I am beginning to forget what it looks like. Heh. The ocean is right down the street, meaning the weather is constantly tempered by cold water. I wouldn’t have it any other way. After waiting more than two decades to live near the sea, I’m happy to ‘see’ that the weather is everything I had hoped. As I get older, however, warm sunshine is becoming more comfortable than it was when I lived in the valley. Not fucking Arizona heat, but something decent enough to allow me to be comfortable in the garage. Again... Heh. Good stuff, this vodka. I’m gonna say this straight out, for whatever it may be worth. The following statement pretty much sums up the unbelievable levels of desperation and weakness inside me. I am completely in love with her. Yes, I love her more than ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD, and that includes actual living, breathing human beings. The more I see her and hear her voice, the more I love her. Never in my life could I have imagined being so off-kilter, especially at my age and considering all I’ve done for the last few decades. And there is an obvious problem with how I feel...
'What if love's intolerable pain never leaves us? Do we dash our bleeding hearts on the rocks of loneliness? And cry unto the lords above who turn away in haste?'
I don’t believe I would feel so strongly had that fucking dream not entered my sleep state. That was the BEST feeling ever in my life, yet it disappeared as quickly as it was created. She was holding my hand in a way I can’t easily describe. Believe me, I’ve been held in ways that nearly solved all the problems in the world, most recently eleven years ago. That woman looked upon me and held tight as if to telegraph her wishes to fix every fucking issue in my head. I’m not fucking kidding, either. I can’t go too far with this shit, though. There will be backlash and flak for the rest of my life (unless I shorten the duration). Just know that the closest, loving embrace in memory was destroyed by yours truly. She was real. Jamie’s character is not, and therein lies one of the largest fucking conundrums of my entire life. I am so far gone that I still wish for her. Yep, I said that. I still wish for us to be close even though there is a long list of reasons outlining the sheer impossibility of such a need. Maybe I am just fucking stupid. The dream of Jamie and I walking pretty much cemented everything I felt for her and added a facet of tangibility to the tone of my heartstrings. And she doesn’t exist. The other one does exist. I know she does. Her arms were around me, and that is a daily thought. This whole paragraph is a steaming pile of shit atop a mountain of snow. I am fucked. 1519. I finished everything and worked on the truck for a little while. The drive motor is kind of crappy, but I wired it through tubing anyway. It will be protected from suspension components and the driveshaft. If I decide to replace the motor in the future, the wiring scheme will not change (hopefully). The order from McMaster arrived, too. I replaced the thumb nuts on the axles with coupling nuts and split-lock washers. When I had the truck moving around the floor the other day, the wheels were trying to loosen, and that is bad. Now that I am very close to operating the vehicle autonomously, I can’t have parts falling off all the time. Everything must be secured. Once the mounts arrive in the mail, I can fabricate a custom antenna structure so range is maximized. Right now it is bundled next to the receiver. That is fine while the transmitter is close, although I would lose signal very easily going much further down the driveway. I’ve wanted to build such a mount since this project began. Typical surface vehicles have very short antennae, however I am using a radio designed for aircraft, meaning the receiver antenna is nearly three feet long. I’m hoping my idea looks decent when finished. The girl has been in my head all day long. Who? That’s the key question. I wish I knew. ‘Nothing unreal exists.’ 0734 on Tuesday morning with the usual shit going on. The morning business is complete and I am going to sit at the computer for as long as I care to. No gangsters. My head is sideways. The clock is on my side right now, though. The entire day is wide open other than my routine and a few things to clean. The garage is all fucked up due to the new bed, meaning I have to get out there after lunch and do some straightening. The next holiday is Halloween, so the area must be clear so my displays are fully visible. I can take care of things by close of business. No problem.
Help me
1121. The routine is finished and I went to the market for some items to round out dinner tonight. Nothing going on over there. That’s why I typically visit that place mid-morning. I don’t need any more shit on the pile. I switched to the gangsters since the storyline goes well with whiskey. Not funny. I’ve already been floored by her eyes. You can see them all down the page. And here is the scene... Shit. I have to stare because she has become the most powerful thought in my head as combined with the three terms, 'her', 'girl', and 'image', although the last one doesn't completely relate. I can't explain, either. Some thoughts in my brain have to be left out of this endeavor for good form. Plus, Jamie is all about love and nothing else. Don’t ask. The image is very difficult to consider because of the problems I’ve already had to endure for decades. There is a type of understanding with regard to the image, and likely one which cannot come to pass in real life. The ‘girl’? Well, she has become my savior, and as such, relates to Jamie due to the dream of us being together. Yes, I know such a thought is fucking ridiculous and ill-advised for a person already dangling from the threads of life, but I just can’t fucking help it anymore. The need has taken over most of my existence. The minuscule upside is that she has been captured on video for all time. There are ten fucking downsides, too, but I don’t like to consider them when daydreaming of us holding hands. I feel more for her every day. Believe it. Every other aspect of my consciousness is driven by dreams and impossibilities, so why not throw myself completely into the idea of Jamie saving my life? Can anyone else? Can I stay alive just to see her big, beautiful eyes on the screen? The ‘image’ fades from time to time, thankfully. There are more important matters in my heart than what that fucking picture provides. 1655. I did a bunch of cleaning and relocated the twin bed to the spare bedroom. That was a pain, but it’s done. I also spent some time working on the steering system to shore up the drag links. Everything seems fine, although the Teflon spacers which connect the tubing to each adjustment screw are strained when the system operates. That means they end up giving in to the force of the motor and skew when it moves the wire ropes. After all the shit I went through trying to keep everything isolated enough to transfer power to the axles with loss at a minimum, I don’t need more problems. Isolation is very good, but the tubing still needs to flex when the suspension moves. This is one more notch toward replacing the entire shitaree with two fucking servos. I just don’t know if I want to get into that amount of work after all this time. While in the garage, I daydreamed almost constantly about that situation I used to imagine at five in the morning waiting to go to work. My desperation continues to grow. Thankfully, I have not dreamed of the girl for weeks. This serves to show just how fucked up I am. Whilst in the middle of a very technical operation, my brain swings back and forth from the mechanics of the truck to the mechanics of beauty. Ugh. One good thing is the daughter board has already been manufactured and shipped. The forecasted arrival is just two days from now. That is fantastic. I have everything ready to build the system into the main board and make connections. That company is more efficient than advertised, plus they ship faster than expected. This is just the little boost I needed. 0650 on Wednesday morning. Strange dreams all morning (thanks, Frank). None of the other dreams, thank goodness. As much as I’d like to see and kiss her again, the fact is anything along those lines will affect me. I’ve already seen it. Honestly? I miss seeing her. Shit. I need to take care of the early business. Pause. 0741 and the clock is mine for a while. I actually put the news on this morning while working in the kitchen, something I typically avoid due to the mass of bad news and stupid people. I learned that the drought is going to drive food prices up further due to planting limits in the state. Ouch. I’ve already seen mayonnaise on the shelf for just under twelve dollars a quart. Holy shit. And the prices are going to rise? Not good, but I do know that the water is fucking scarce right now. I’m going to switch from serving cat food in ramekins to dropping it on plates that can be composted in order to further lower the water usage while cleaning the kitchen. This is bad. Sometimes I think the drought is causing more problems now than the fuel price hike last spring. Everything is expensive these days, to be honest, but I didn’t really pay much attention until ordering some household items last year and noticed the difference in price. It was a big jump. After that, I began to look more carefully before simply clicking items into my shopping cart. I guess the news this morning has me thinking about the water and inflation. Sometimes I worry, other times not so much. When I do worry, I think of people that are not in a position to handle the increasing food costs, such as those with children or in difficult financial situations (or both). Not a day goes by, nor do I consume anything without considering what has been taking place since the beginning of the pandemic. Not a fucking day. I’m going out of my mind over here. The image comes and goes, often leaving me a pile of worry and discomfort. I still don’t understand how that came to pass in the first place, not to mention the other situation that sends me flying every fucking time. My brain will not let go enough for me to relax thought processes and work through a day without issue. I keep thinking of the dreams, my words regarding Jolene and her unbelievable form (probably not very nice of me), Jamie’s loving arms, and then those pictures forever etched into me by the dreams from a few months ago. The image is going to drive me fucking crazy. I just don’t understand, and this is one of the few times in the life of the site that I will point out the situation is unfair. There you go. Crucify me. And then fuck off. I will soon be all the way out of my mind, a state which carries too many caveats to list, even here. This is not fucking good. Had I known society was going to affect me to such a degree, I would have removed myself long ago. Nothing good is on my horizon. I just need to see... 1023 and the routine is nearly finished. I am allowing the dishes to drip dry for a little while so I can calculate the antenna mounts. I swept and took care of the cat litter and then immediately moved to the kitchen to clean. All the while, that fucking image would not let go of me, even with the fourth show in the background. I can feel myself falling down at this very moment. At some point after the whiskey glass is empty (I need the numbing effect every fucking day), I will be venturing north to the goddess market for some vegetables, dropping off a coat at the cleaners, and picking up cigarettes around the corner from the latter. I really don’t want any strikes derailing my efforts in caring for business. Unfortunately, the idea is decidedly beyond my control. Yes, I have control over my eyes and where they turn, but after all this time and a shitload of problems – not the least of which is living every day far beyond the limits of desperation – my subconscious operates without my knowledge. As important as it is for me to avoid seeing what is wandering out there in society, as of yet I have not found the ability to look away. Sometimes I wish my eyes would stop working. The image is becoming more and more powerful as time passes and there may be nothing I can do about it. I have never felt so weak. And I cannot spell out the image. Live with it. Some thoughts in my head are driven by the world and must remain under wraps. 1704. I accomplished little more than the routine and shopping today. My trip to the market was uneventful, as were the other two stops. No big deal. I also modified the new brackets and finished the antenna mounts. I don’t know if I’m going to further adapt the routing, though. Perhaps when I look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes, another idea may flow. Throughout this entire afternoon, the image of her continued to swirl, thus slowing any potential work on the project. That means the antenna routing may not look the same when I stare at it after taking a break. The image again slammed me after making preparations for dinner a little while ago. I went to the garage to rest and have a cigarette, all the while the imagery and those wondrous situations I’ve been envisioning for months gripped my head and would not let go. They remain enmeshed despite the fourth show. This is not good. I suppose the upside is having finished everything I set out to do prior to falling down, but that is a grim payment. I fucking hate this shit and have been driven to it by others. The girl, image, her, or whatever the hell happens to be the focus shoved into my head by decades of circumstances has no mercy and derails my thinking and effort too often. I fucking hate it.
Please
0648 on Thursday morning. I am going to try placing yesterday afternoon aside so I can enjoy my quiet morning. This is, after all, one of the biggest benefits of not working every day. I do have the morning business, but before and most notably after are peaceful moments through which I can think clearly. Even when there is massive trouble inside me, the quiet morning helps. 0745 and the morning crap is out of the way. The rest of the shit in my world is all rolled up inside my head, unfortunately. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. For fuck’s sake... Why is this so difficult? Does everyone have images in their heads? Not that I give a shit, though. Just curious. I keep seeing her over and over and fucking over, the thoughts beginning to remove detail from whatever I may be attempting at the time. Pushing. Shoving. I have no way of ceasing the daily takeover of my brain power. There is nothing I can do about this, no pair of ears or understanding eyes awaiting my concerns, nor is there any reality attached to my need to be with her. At this point in time, I am seeing myself repeating the same thoughts, such as needing her, dreams, or what the visions do to me while I’m trying to work at something. There must be some kind of change in this content or nothing will ever come of the effort. Well, I don’t expect anything to happen, honestly, because the time for ‘good’ things in my life is over. Gone. I just have my devices, none of which have the power to keep me away from damage. I have to do something about this situation. No, not my life. I am only referring to what I say here. This is one of three parts of my existence that matters to me. Just one of three. Wow. I put the gangsters back on so I can listen. There is going to be gorgeous footage of Jamie, but I may miss some because my head is about as sideways as it can get. Right now my brain is pointed toward Jolene as Jamie is very different. My feelings are not the same, so perhaps the show may not bother me this morning. Eh... It doesn’t matter. Very little matters to me anymore. Thanks, world. I can already see that the issues are going to keep me down today. There are so many memories and ‘reasons’ spinning circles inside right now that I don’t know what kind of path may help. Well, I truly know what can help me, but every idea is either gone from my life or impossible in the first place. Splendid. This day will go down in history. The daughter board is scheduled to be delivered today. Normally I would be excited about the expansion of my project and the prospect of straightening some problems that have been nagging at me for years. The board was a great idea. Unfortunately, the entirety of the truck work and whatever possible improvements may be taking place, my emotional state has been overpowering the good. I can’t fucking focus. ‘She’ is in control of my life right now. I can’t even go into the ‘image’, though. That shit is another universe, and one I will never see come to pass. The reasons are flying away. I always liked Julianna’s hair in this episode. Sometimes I want her hair on my head. Never mind. My hair is not what it once was, that’s all. Another little fact that brings me down. As I said above, there has been too much going over the same information on the site lately. I can’t say I know what to do about such a fact, either. No clue. What I do know is continuing to tread the same shit over and over for months says something about my condition. I have always been a very technically-minded person (not to mention having been involved in some pretty fucking complex electronic and mechanical disciplines), meaning when there is an issue to which I can’t find a solution, my head will not let go of it, ever. Sitting here right now? There are three issues that I cannot solve. Three. One is fucking awful, too. I don’t understand why things must be as they are right now, and my inability to work through anything is the most likely cause for repeating myself so often. Either that, or I simply ran out of other things to say. Pick one. Both possibilities are horrible. I’ve continued to mention that I’m going to lose my shit or flip the fuck out, perhaps both. It’s coming, believe me. No way around it anymore. I have to get to the routine very soon so I can relax for a while. I always feel better when it’s done. I also need to go to the market for one vegetable because I forgot it yesterday. Not the goddess market. The other one. I don’t know what to do now. Down, down, and more down. Alcohol? Very soon. The coffee is gone. 1049 with a very gray sky outside. My head is gray, too. I finished the kitchen and have some things ready for dinner tonight, and through that work I’ve had a fatass glass of whiskey. The gangsters are still on the television along with one of the most striking and beautiful scenes involving Jamie’s huge eyes. God damn do I ever love that woman... More with each sighting. She is just another impossible dream to float among the rest. I may as well ask for the Passion. That is how bad I am right now. Moreover, the morning has not been good for my physical condition. I am fucking miserable right now. The daughter board will be dropped on the porch at some point, yet the excitement has flown away with my dreams. Maybe upon seeing their impeccable work for a second time I will feel a little better. Nothing can help with the physical crap, though. Nothing. I feel like turning my head into a canoe. That is not a joke. There is only one thing keeping me breathing. I may switch back to the third show, one that has run on my television in its entirety four fucking times just this year. There is some sort of comfort I have derived through the stories and characters recently and I can’t explain it. I love those people. Hmm... I just realized that everything I love does not exist in reality. Isn’t that just peachy? The third show, as I’ve mentioned before, carries with it a few key moments that bring tears to my eyes, yet I can’t skip to the episodes in question. I have to see it play out in order to build the canon. I am a very strange person. I am in love with Jamie and some girl to which I have referred as ‘her’, both being unreal. Un-fucking-real, and not at all possible in this life or the next. I may as well just pull the trigger. That is likely the only solution to the dreams. I am in the mindset to get fucking hammered and make a mess of everything. Yep... Angry. I did not ask for this shit. There are issues piled atop problems piled atop issues. Fucking sick of it. I believe the best course for the remainder of this day is to await the daughter board and then build it with some very unpleasant music in the background. Not terribly loud, just a genre no one I know could enjoy. The message is clear, however. All the way back to my nephew and I exploring the darker, more compelling side of a possible lifestyle, I’ve embraced the violent ideas and sonic onslaught for the simple reason that I needed it in order to deal with this downtrodden existence within an uncaring, unfeeling society. We felt the way we did (I can’t go into detail for fear of someone knocking at my door) and I made it clear that if he ever noticed my home phone going away, there would be one more step into the real forest. That was the fucking cable television. Well, I have neither at this moment. Make of that what you will. Jesus fucking Christ would I ever love to dive into Cara’s pants and spend an hour showing her just how much pent-up desire resides within me. I will not apologize for stating that I need to plant my lips to her most intimate space. Fuck off. Anyway, today is the type of mental atmosphere which drives me away from people. Holy shit, there she is again. Cara was unreal when this was filmed. Jesus. Let's see... Dark hair, dark eyes, Italian descent... Sound familiar? I swear to fucking Christ, the most beautiful women in the world come from one of two places. Ooh-fa... Janice the drama queen of the universe. Heh. God bless Aida and her amazing work on this show. Oh, God. If she only knew that I would FUCKING DIE to make her smile for five seconds. That would require her being a real person. And someone in my life. And during the period when this was filmed. And a person straight out of my dreams.
Save me
0736 on a very gray Friday morning. My living room lamp is still lit. That is how dim the sky is outside. We will be turning back the clocks an hour in a few weeks. I think it's just after the holiday. So far this morning I have been preoccupied with consideration of my condition, meaning all the bad stuff has not been allowed to creep in. I have to ensure my head stays this way for as long as possible. The difficulty shall return soon enough. It always does. Yesterday’s pitfall became slightly offset by the daughter board arriving earlier than I had anticipated. I cared for some business and then received a notification that the box had been dropped on the porch. Within an hour of unboxing the two boards (I always get an extra just in case), I had one built and mounted on the main system. Within another thirty minutes, everything was wired and operating as I had hoped. Maybe I went too fast with that project. Anyway, I had to do a bunch of soldering after the fact just to get the wires routed neatly and to allow the main board to swing upward without tensioning anything. By early afternoon, the truck was again in one piece and awaiting the new wheel axles (which should arrive today). My time in the garage was interrupted several times by my head wandering into places it should not be allowed. The morning left me victimized by dreams. All of that carried on into the late afternoon and evening. Oh, and right now, too. There is no way around this shit anymore. At least I am pleased with the appearance of my board modifications. The way I see it, if the project is going to do nothing more than sit on my workbench, it may as well look good. The fourth show is on again. I wanted to avoid Jamie’s eyes and what they do to me. Not her specifically, but the ‘her’ to which I’ve been speaking lately. She is a dream, and I need her to hold me. When I see the big eyes on the television, I think of such emotion looking at me, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Not good. Maybe I switch programs when I hit the routine in a little while. Right now I have to leave that woman out of my vision. A representation of everything impossible and missing is just not what I fucking need. I’ve seen too much, damn it. Once in a while, the sight of Jamie or someone else on the television brings on the ‘image’, and such a thing happened yesterday afternoon when I returned to the house from my garage. Again, I saw too much. My brain ran with it and soon I was losing my shit not long before the need to prepare dinner. Well, I simply could not have that kind of thing so I had to shut it down forcibly. That operation helped the booze to flow and soon I was numb enough to let the imagery go. I felt very weak on several occasions yesterday, not the least of which was mid-morning just before my board was delivered. Very weak, for sure. The next occasion was just after the truck work was completed, and then into the afternoon with my imagination taking hold and leveraging until I was nearly unable to do anything. I know how those moments happened. I really do. Everything boils down to loss, believe it or not. The ‘image’ relates to the same. Today must roll along sans reminders of the past. I just can’t fucking have it today. In addition, I have to visit the market, meaning anything already causing difficulty in my brain will be amplified by what I may see. One more time for posterity... This is all so fucking stupid. I don’t believe I’ve said anything new in months. 1142. I finished the daily routine, fueled my car and went shopping at the market. Suffice to say, I was overjoyed to return home and pour a big glass of medicine. Now I have lunch in the oven – a la frozen pizza – and the remaining hours are wide open. Unfortunately, much of the drive to head out the door and take care of business stemmed from a fall of epic proportions. After a cigarette and my subsequent implosion, I forced the issue and left the house. Something had to happen at that point or I never would have moved further than the bar in the dining room. As you may well know, if I enjoy more than one cocktail during the early part of the day, bad things happen. I will typically don the MDRs and wallow in a pool of anger and discontent. I can honestly say I’ve avoided that pit for a very long time and do not intend to fall so deep into depression if I can at all help it. The morning ‘fall off a cliff’ is weighing heavily right now. I really need those fucking axles to arrive so I can drown into the truck for a while. The alternative is not good. The ‘image’ got the best of me and I could not recover without much anger. ‘She’ is not here. I have no help whatsoever, and if you continue to believe that the exposition on this fucking site is serving to assist me in daily life, pull your fucking head out of your ass. I sit here and type because I don’t understand how or why I turned out this way. Oh, of course there have been incidents and situations driving nails into my skull for decades, but I honestly did not experience such a dire condition years ago. There was a hell of a scrape in zero-three and then another in eleven. I was the catalyst of both. I believe the Raven period faded somewhat due to my learning coping methods twelve years earlier. I actually feel worse right now than I did while dreaming and yearning to be near Her. I wish I could learn of the real reasons for this desperation. I’ve stated that some are already understood, but I can’t accept the fact that those reasons caused everything currently in my head. That is bullshit. Either I made one too many left turns or not enough. Pick one. The MDRs are looking more and more appealing. The last time I wore them during a weekday? There was a revolver resting snugly within my belt. Just think of how much crap could have been avoided, and then attempt to tell me I am wrong. Try me. I could sum up everything and put an end to the site with one, simple fact: Due to daydreaming and envisioning for a very long time, I’ve realized that what I want and need is not possible, meaning real life is never going to measure up. And yes, I know just how clichéd that statement seems, but the truth is that I already know happiness will not fucking happen, nor will good things come along in my life. So, do I continue to type words here? Maybe just a description of the truck progress? Give me a fucking answer because I sure as hell can’t figure it out. Roxann is so freakin’ adorable sometimes. The damaging dream is not governing my life right now. The ‘image’ has taken over that spot, not to mention the imaginary possibility that the ‘image’ can be attached to ‘her’; such a combination becoming the utopian vision I should not be seeking. Lines. Numbers. Understanding. Everything is congealing and being collated because I no longer have reason to avoid something even more ridiculous than those ideas I’ve already laid out here. Jolaimora? I would lick more than ‘her’ ears. And I am beginning to see the basement, at long last. I am a crazy person, a dangerous individual with which to deal, and a person moving ever further outside the real world. Everything I see is impossible, yet I cannot fucking stop the process. I’m sure the dream will return and carry with it a ton of imagery I would be better off not seeing. This will happen soon. I already know. My head is skewed enough to realize that whatever can hurt me will never go away. I recall the fictional conversation with that bartender. You know... The one I wrote. It hurt me. I created one image of impossibility from my own fucking mind and the words came right back and stabbed me in the heart. I thought it was important at the time. Later? Pain. I still fucking hear about it. Don’t ask. 1457. I went to help with a job about two miles from here for an hour. No big deal, but I don’t believe in my current state I could work all day long, or more. I have an invitation to help in a couple of weeks, too. Right now I just don’t know how well I could handle being away from home for so many hours. Back in January, I worked across the bay for a couple of days and it ended up turning into a nearly full-time operation. We went to the City and a job down the coast for a little while, and then were scheduled to go back to the City. At that point I bowed out. Around the third day I began to feel very uncomfortable being out of my element. All these months later? One full day could very well leave me all fucked up. I will say that for an hour I forgot about everything. That is better than nothing, I guess. Now I am home for the remainder of the day and within the calming atmosphere I so desperately need. I may head to the garage and disassemble the steering hubs to prepare for the new axles. I don’t know what the fuck to do now. Nothing seems appealing.
Where do I live?
0704. Saturday morning and two of the most stirring visions in memory. No, not the damage or the bra strap. Not even those hands that went to the same place. This was different. For a long time there has been the ‘image’. I have spoken about it mostly in the last few entries. Prior to recently tying the three terms together and speaking of them often as one, I considered the image daily, and I can honestly say it is likely the most difficult part of my psyche. Well, since discussing it here, there has often been a face attached for clarity – much like those smiles of which I spoke. This morning? That face was with me. The very fact which altered my thinking in such directions and created the most uncomfortable, dire situation in years. She was real, and she was with me. Sharp shoulders, slender features, very tall and with long, brown hair. Smiling at me? Oh yes, that too. Someone else was present, though. I know who she was but cannot talk about it or her. The face of the image was key. Prior to that wondrous slice of impossibility, I was on some land which felt like the north of which I have spoken for many years. Rather like a farm, perhaps. A bunch of people, a crane and a big truck, and something else. There were two girls there, although by roughly halfway through the dream I had only seen one. I was trying to figure out how to help with whatever was being loaded onto the truck and preoccupied knowing the girl was close. And then we were in the kitchen of what appeared to be a cabin. The guy who operated the crane had been an acquaintance of mine and we were trying to learn a board game from the girl to my left. At that point I noticed she was tall and slender, much like the ‘image’. Somehow, and without words, I knew inside that she wanted to be with me, from the simplicity of sitting together and holding hands to speaking of deep-seated personal issues. Nothing physical, but my brain always seems to head in such a direction, meaning the desire was likely somewhere in my head. Not far at all. And then a door opened (like a narrow or ‘queen’ door on a mobile home) and out stepped the tall girls’ near-twin fucking sister wearing a sundress. I then realized they were both in the same type of dress with hair up. Very thin, as in thinner than I typically see in society. I could tell the shorter (younger, I think) sister was not wearing a bra because I could see right through her dress in the light. That little kitchen was becoming a very compelling situation for me. For whatever reason, I already knew I would end up with arms around me, the biggest and most powerful need in life. And then awake, worried, and still in the mindset of being warm and joyful. The two girls in the kitchen were a corollary to the sisters at the pool in Paradise three years ago. I know it. I’ve spoken of them far too much to have pushed them out of my head. As for the second dream which I mentioned first, that ‘image’ was vastly different and has now smashed my heart to pieces. Something impossible had developed. Impossible, like everything else. Rather than knowing such a fact and sitting here bitching, I was right in the middle of it and very relieved. Now? Not only am I back at square one, but worse off. This feels as if true happiness was handed to me and then torn away along with the words, ‘Just kidding’. I have this entire day to do whatever seems best. The axles arrived yesterday so I could rebuild everything at the bench. I could also continue reconfiguring the house. Or perhaps I might move a few things around in the garage and separate some items for donation soon. Or I could begin hitting the bottle earlier than usual and sit right here typing about those three fucking girls until I fall asleep and drop the laptop on the floor. You wanna talk about being hit right over the head? This could kill me. I can still see her smiling at me and being more affectionate than can be put into words. Very loving, caring and beautiful. And then she disappeared and I am right where I always am. Sometimes I sit here and point out the positive aspects of not needing to be in the workforce. There are many advantages to being home all the time. That last word is one of them. I really do try to focus on the good points of this situation. Unfortunately, the bad points of life outweigh them by about a billion times. Yesterday at this time I had a hell of a time trying to keep my head up and out of the din. I barely made it. This morning is much worse. I was right where I needed to be – twice – and then everything went away. Those two girls at the pool three years ago have caused more turmoil inside me than almost anything else in memory. They were with me, in my eyes and heart, and then disappeared just as quickly. Whatever force is responsible for toying with me should be violently destroyed. Now I have to go on with my day as if I am no worse off than usual. Oh boy, I really don’t need to see Cara and her flowing hair right now. Maybe I should not have run this program today. Jesus. Her fucking lips and eyes are wondrous. I really need to... Ah... We are very close to the scene I thought was funny. No one else did, though. There are too many images in my head, none of which are real. Either they are situations which played out in the past or dreams I have created inside to deal with being alone. Too many. The main ‘image’ causes its fair share of issues and comes to the surface of my thinking at some point every fucking day. Oh, God... The scene. Well, one of three. Jamie and her big, beautiful eyes. God damn it, I would have worshiped her forever. Anyway, that daily thing took me over for the last two mornings and created quite the bad mood. I can already feel it happening right now and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. The dreams earlier this morning really hit me hard. I don’t need that shit. At the same time, I truly understand how these visions can drive my subconscious into the ground and jade my sleep time. I dwell on so much shit that I am surprised the dreams don’t come around more often. I am still here. I’ve done nothing, taken no steps. Still typing, still working on the truck, still finishing the routine each day. Still dreaming of impossibilities. 0812. Second cup. I need to climb inside Jamie’s fucking eyes and live there forever. Cara’s pants; Jamie’s eyes. There are switches inside me which have flipped to a bad position and fused themselves for all time. All kinds of shit going wrong in me. I am head over heels in love with a fictional character, dreaming of impossible situations for which I fucking YEARN throughout every Goddamned day of every Goddamned week, and still sit in this very spot trying to understand how this all happened. I know some, but not everything. I need to know like I need Jamie to hold me and tell me everything will be alright. Damn this condition. Just... Damn it all. I am so fucked up that even I can’t believe it sometimes. I think this is the end of the entry. Going on and on about this crap is not helping. Sometimes I tend to railroad the ideas too much. This is compelling, you must understand, and I sit here in pain and trying to reach for whatever may help. I am constantly searching and it hurts. The work around the house helps for an hour or so. The work on the truck can distract me from reality and place me in a little bubble for a measure of time. Soon enough, though, everything comes back forcefully and halts my life. I turn to each side and look around the room, but nothing is there. There is nothing on the doorstep. The phone is not ringing and never will. I will say that up to this fucking point I had been hanging on for the most part. The dreams earlier this morning hit me harder than I thought possible. That was the worst pair of slams to my brain imaginable. Exactly what I’ve been daydreaming for a very long time... Right there. Arms to hold me, the ‘image’ to help me, and the knowledge that everything was finally going to be ok. Gone. I need a fucking break from this shit."
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