October 28th, 2023 11:30am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Door Four read ( words) "Another fuckin’ door. Splendid. If it represents the shit from eleven-plus years ago, I have a pretty good idea of what Julia is going to throw at me, the worst of which will be that last horrible decision which was made due to a dire need for the right type of understanding, and I thought I had found it. Well, nope. I stumbled into nothing more than a wasteland of fear and paranoia. Shortly thereafter, everything went to shit and I effectively removed any possibility of a fourth opportunity prior to ever pursuing it. All the while I was unraveling just enough to be tossed to the side of the road before anything materialized. Afterward, I felt ruined. I was certain that my life was over. Door number four is pretty fucking bad and I’ve already been through enough as a result. I don’t even want to deal with it. Considering Julie and I lived through the desert, beach and mountains without a single clear answer as to why, I really don’t need any shit from Julia regarding the fact that I threw away a wonderful career months before ever applying to the firm. There was never a chance and I didn’t fucking know it until everything came crashing down on my life. There is a small part of my brain that will be forever reserved for what are now the worst lessons imaginable. Julie is around my left arm again, her head resting gently upon my shoulder. I wish I was as comfortable on the inside as the opposite. I need her, but never know when that little girl will be ripped away by the other one. I just never know. Four doors. Wonderful. I’ve been through the other three, yet the new one is looming large over the sandy beach. Wait a minute... Am I correct about the fourth door? Or was it something else, perhaps an event or situation long forgotten? I wouldn’t put it past Julia to employ a nonlinear timeline. Not at all. I can remember Steuart Street, the short interview and then the goddess across the hall (related?), a passion for the film industry nearly coming to fruition before I shoved it aside due to fear, and then an attempt to reroute my career by enrolling in college (for the fifth time). Three doors. I have to think about this because there was always desperation involved whenever I was fearful of change. What? Yep... I was desperate to find validation. I still can’t see a clear connection as to ‘why’, though. I needed what I needed and graded everything aside in order to find it. I don’t want to walk through the fourth door. I will soon have no choice, though, because whenever I am resistant to Julia’s intentions, she simply directs me wherever she feels I must go, and when. Wonderful. I am expecting more painful memories and cryptic questions. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘You can fuck right the hell off.’ ‘Not me... YOU. We are nearing the end of everything. I love you.’ What the fuck am I supposed to do with that kind of statement? Julia is pissing me off to the nth degree and there is nothing I can do about it. Not happy. At least I have the lovely little Julie for support. Without her, I’d probably be much worse off. I thought perhaps the first closet door is number four. That rhymes. ‘Number four; closet door; of it no more Three–quarter, I saw Her mane; she remained; insane The mirror; the straw The camel’s back is broken.’ I am not certain of what to think. How can that old situation relate to the others? Maybe that occasion was poignant for some reason that now escapes me; the first connection between my brain and reality. I do remember a few years prior to the closet door (the first) when I calculated that some things are simply not real because they felt so far away. The door made a difference. It also made me think about everything differently. Hmm. What could it have to do with Steuart Street? I have to figure this out before taking a step in any direction. I don’t want to end up floating again. That was not only uncomfortable, but my companion had disappeared and left me to feel very lonely. I needed her; NEED her. Maybe we can remain on the beach for a while to think. So far, Julia has been absent since arriving here again. Well, aside from her voice. I still don’t know the answers. The fourth door could be as I suspect, or I may be way the hell off the mark. I can’t know for sure right now. We shall wait. I am seeing mint green inside my head. The best part of this is Julie on my arm. She is so kind. Maybe I should request a different part of her attached to me for a little while. Would the idea get me in trouble? Probably. Nothing positive seems to happen in this place. I can still see her smiling, much like the other one so many years later. ‘Uh-huh’, and I saw a smile. Reality has proven to me that I need not wish for things anymore; the netherworld is the only aspect of life left to me in which I can ask questions. Will there be a smile? Of course not. The fourth door was the first occasion and might as well have been the last for all I care. The chair, too. That was in Sparks. There was another door but I don’t think it is relevant in this place. Other aspects of that time are very important and I am reminded of quite a few on a daily basis as I sit here and lament everything that is gone. I’ll have to keep the door in mind and continue trying to relate that period – right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow – with what I have become, and perhaps the ‘why’ will make a slight appearance. I don’t know for sure. I am going to hold Julie and think as we stroll along the beach. If the fourth door was the first occasion of asserting my dreams, why is it not number one? The first should be one, right? Let’s look at what may have been going on during the times of the other three. Steuart Street was during the same period as the closet door, but I can’t be certain of the exact year, nor can I identify which event was first. The second is supposed to be more than a decade later at my place of work. How does that relate to the way I feel each day? Something akin to the fourth door had to have been going on during the second period. That was before Laura and Maggie, too. I can’t think of what might relate to the fourth door. This is becoming very confusing. I remember where I was working and living at the time. I remember the sound engineer helped me with a bunch of information about the industry. I also recall being obsessed with memories of the glow. Maybe that first fucking period was the entire ball of wax. The closet door is merely something which stands out these days because I am so far gone. I need more information, or at least lots of time to try connecting the dots. Oh, a word just popped into my head which could be a factor. Hmm. The word seems perfectly natural most of the time, too. It can be harsh or gentle depending upon the person it is describing, but I have to say it relates to the me of the past as well as the present. I believe the closet door was the beginning of something that will never leave me. I cannot think differently, nor do I wish to push aside such dreams and continue through life as if I am not fucking desperate beyond belief. There were little occasions here and there prior to when I saw that door, but I am beginning to believe that the closet door was the very first time I felt the earliest tinge of validation. Ah... Shit. Just as I seem to be getting somewhere, the light is beginning to dim. Turning, I see that the only door still well-lit is number four, all ornate and looming. This may be when Julia forces me to go somewhere else when I really don’t want to leave here just yet. The connection I’ve made between the fourth door being something of dire importance to me both then and now needs to be analyzed and explored while the feelings are fresh. Fuck. Maybe not. Flash! Mint green; blurry. A smile, too. The door is to my left. Slam! I’ve been hit by the realization that the closet door was the beginning of a mindset that has carried through to this very second, and that is saying much because the situation I am seeing took place during the mid-glow – more than thirty years ago. The feeling has remained inside my head. What the fuck does this have to do with the goddess that was perched across the hall from the railroad office? I may never know. That was the first door, so there is no way I am going to understand why the closet door is number four. Is it supposed to be related? Too many questions. The timeline is linear, yet Julia has provided me with information to the contrary. Splendid. Crack! The door just fell to pieces and there is glass everywhere. The mint green is now dripping with red. I don’t want to see this! Shit! Outside the window where my car should be parked is the fucking gunman. How many times does this shit have to happen? What did I do? I have to get out of here. To the hallway... To the living room slider... I have to get out... Flash! Blackness for the umpteenth time. Marvelous. Julia is not currying favor right now. At least I know that the first occasion of me feeling something I so badly needed was during the glowing years. I suppose this is better than nothing. And I can go further, perhaps... I probably tried to imagine the woman across the hall at the office in similar terms. In fact, I know I did, because to this very second my feelings have not fucking changed. The God’s honest truth is that not a fucking moment passes in my life that does not have me dreaming of the precise type of understanding that I’ve needed for more than four decades. I’ve been there, too... I’ve been right in the middle of wonder, yet each occasion was fraught with disaster, fear and an unrelenting desire to end everything. Out of one type of desperation came another. Not good. And now here I am floating in null space with only a smidgen more knowledge than I had just a few moments ago. Why Julia felt it necessary to send the gunman to threaten me again I will never know because there was already a very apparent lesson taking place. Maybe each time I arrive at a realization she has to flex some fucking power. Or? Maybe he is only there to run me the hell out of one scene before something bad happens. Eh... I don’t fucking know. The gunman has always felt like death, meaning anything positive flies away upon sight. When I see him, I run, good or bad. In the passenger car? He helped me with nothing more than a series of facial expressions culminating in one very poignant nod of the head. I’ll have to think about this for a while because he could actually be pushing me away from danger. Maybe I should just give up and see what happens. I mean... Does anything I do in this place make a difference? Will Julia adjust her strategy and simply leave me alone if I begin to throw in the towel? No idea. I don’t want to be shot by that guy anymore, that’s for sure. I will say that he reminds me of the bartender in the big resort from years ago. Do you remember that one? The title of the story escapes me right now, though. Anyway, the resemblance is more of a feeling than something physical. The gunman in the passenger car was the same as the character chasing me through the resorts, and he was not as tall as the bartender. On the other hand, if my suspicion is correct, he may be trying to help me just like when I tried to blow up the past. Hmm. As long as I am going to remain in-between, I may as well hash this shit out. I have nothing better to do (nor CAN I do anything, really). I hope all this fucking mess is worth whatever comes along, be it my understanding of the way my mind has developed over the decades or the reasons why validation has become paramount in life. I really wish I did not feel this way. I also wish that some aspects of the negative material plane were not necessary for me to fully analyze all this crap. I don’t like being reminded of all I’ve done wrong, and possibly for the wrong reasons. Was it all futile effort? I am no better right now than I’ve ever been. Julia had better clarify her shit or I’m going to completely give up. My last question could be the deciding factor in every fucking part of life. That is not good. Still black. Floating. No Julie, no trains, no nothing. I don’t know what to think other than considering the significance of the fourth door. I mean... Have I even received confirmation that the closet door is indeed number four? I don’t believe so, and that means I must figure something out or hang here forever. Flashes of light... The closet door... Mirrors... Green... 'Please don’t do this!' No one is listening. To the real world we go... Monday morning. I took the drive earlier and made it back home just after 0830. Not bad. As for the hours ahead, I really don’t know what is going to happen. I have a bit of housework and laundry, so perhaps when the coffee is gone I can tackle some of that stuff and then see how I feel about anything further. The time is now 0906. I need to fly up Alyssa’s half-shirt again. Shoot me. The view reminds me of seeing Andrea’s bulging chest perched above her negligible midsection and the wondrous gradient created by the combination. The Raven, too. Her numbers were pushed to the fucking limit. Alyssa is often similar, although her clothing is vastly different. Monday has disappeared. I think the girl over whom I am goo ga (the real one who walks by every now and then) is half Asian mixed with something else. I saw her again yesterday. Thankfully, she was not wearing the creme-colored pants. They make me insane because she looks like several of the slender models I’ve displayed here in the past. Her features are very difficult to describe, so fuck it. Her appearance will not make one iota of difference in my life other than causing pain. Will I stare again? Yes. Sometimes I wish that she had been the one in my dream the other morning. Nope. The subject of the damaging dreams was there asking that beautiful, yet mysterious question. I had the opportunity to have a nice lunch yesterday after we went to the car dealer (which was a complete bust, by the way). For a short time, I began to feel some freedom and anticipation like years ago and then everything faded. No lunch. No comfortable bar/restaurant. Nothing. The excitement melted away upon returning home and I ratcheted down another small notch due to feeling anticipation in the first place. I should know better due to the statement that Julia doesn’t like... ‘Nothing good is on my horizon.’ I spent some of the afternoon working on a new light bar to mount above the workbench, and then retreated to the sofa a little while later as dinner was heating. That’s it. Very exciting. My head continued to process the idea that my life already ended and all I’ve been doing for the last few years is going through the motions in order to remain the same in others’ eyes. And yes, a little outing for lunch is a big fucking deal to me these days. Well, sometimes. There have been so many changes in the area and with businesses disappearing and cropping up as something else that I have a hell of a time trying to find somewhere to go. That’s not fucking funny, either. At some point I will not even call this area home anymore because the entirety of any resemblance will be gone for good. So much has disappeared already that driving around those old areas is completely fucking depressing. I’ll try to avoid going on at length about the town in which I grew up. That never ends well at all. Perhaps if we had located a comfortable spot, I wouldn’t feel this way right now. Today is Tuesday and I don’t have to drive or anything else. The whole day is mine for whatever I feel is best. One might believe that such a circumstance is a huge positive, right? Not so much. The time is 0800 straight up and I am already feeling lost. Marvelous. This entry is going to make about as much sense as the previous. Ugh. For reference and curiosity’s sake, I went to the Disney site to see the actual cost for a five-day trip, including hotel and park tickets. Wow. Things have changed. I have not lodged in their own hotel since I was very young and now I see why. We probably couldn’t afford the fucking place. I don’t know if I’ll ever visit that wondrous place again. The last time I was in their parks was Florida, more than twelve years ago. Even then I spent a fucking mint. Whatever. Back to reality, I guess. I haven’t mentioned the enigma in a while because that series came to an end and I don’t see her every day. Maybe it’s a good thing. The girl on the street is a different type of draw (in two ways) and being focused upon either of them causes problems that I am not equipped to handle. I feel like a small child in a massive toy/candy empire who has been told never to touch anything. Just look and then leave. Everything is disallowed. Hmm... maybe I can interpolate such a thought with the previous paragraph. Imagine traveling to the park as a young person – all wide-eyed and overcome with anticipation – and then upon entry being told that the only activity is walking around and looking at the attractions. Think about that because I feel it each time I see her. Um, which ‘her’, you ask? Any. I sit here and try to rationalize, fail at the effort, and then attempt to reconcile myself with the truth: This is all I will ever have. I will see the enigma again; the other girl will walk by again. Nothing improves. Quite the reverse. 0820. I can’t really continue the story this morning. I am not feeling the words, nor do I see any value in trying to express myself. This is all I have right now, so it will have to be enough. At some point I guess I’ll get out of here and do something else. I can take care of the housework or continue with the light bar in the garage, or maybe whatever else pops up in the meantime. Thursday. I’ve been working on the autosound articles for the last few days, hence not much here. And I don’t care, anyway. In the space of two calendar days, my position in life has dropped considerably. I am fallen again. Fallen... Away. I can’t take much more of this shit. There was something wonderful not far from me yesterday, and the sight will not leave my brain. Above and below; from one place to another; all the way in one direction and all the way in the other at the same time. Indescribable. The pain came to me almost immediately as I realized there is almost nothing left for me in this life, nor can I see a way out of the wasteland that continues to press its advantage. I will probably never leave. The condition is uncertain. The other one? There can be no uncertainty present. If they only knew. If they only fucking knew. Hence? I edited and updated the only knowledge references over which I have control. Everything else has flown away for good. She was right there and I saw everything. The gradient is still painful and there is nothing I can do about it. The tally of the word ‘nothing’ is now 5183. 0908. I have the last cup of coffee. I’ll do some housework when it’s gone. 1043. Coffee... Splashed. Cocktail... Flowing. Brain... Barbecued. I cannot achieve the balance of the PTC, meaning the day has not improved despite my completion of the routine. Well, the day is fine. Hot, but fine. My head is the part remaining unimproved. I keep thinking about what I’ve seen and the overwhelming desire to connect with such beauty, yet the knowledge that such a life cannot be for me is beginning to alter my typical comfort during weekdays when I have very few responsibilities. For example, today is like so many other days in that I have few chores to accomplish, yet the vision is pressing down upon my brain without remorse. Moreover, we are going to travel to a new restaurant part way down the coast shortly after 1430 for a late lunch, meaning I’ll be gussied up for the atmosphere (and out of respect for that type of establishment), as well as making nice the entire time. On the inside, however, the storm shall continue, and will likely result in the necessity of maintaining a delicate balance between ‘pleasant’ and ‘horribly angry’. The process will not be easy by any stretch of the word, yet the plan is in stone regardless of my needs. I will admit that part of me is looking forward to what has become one of my favorite activities – visiting a bar/restaurant – but at the same time I already know that the pain and suffering will continue unimpeded. As if all that shit is not enough to fuck up my day, the pro football discussion, general disrespect and asinine, inane commentary that took place just outside MY garage yesterday is going to cease forthwith. I am going to create and post signage dictating rigid terms for spending time in my empire regardless of whomever may feel I’ve become unfair. I just can’t deal with the onslaught of media emanating from pathetic little speakers that has become the opiate of the masses. In short, if a person wishes to visit and relax here, they will adhere to the new doctrine. If they wish to carry on much like what took place yesterday, they will Goddamn well do it elsewhere or be told to retreat past the property line. I have zero patience for those who cling to their devices and feel it necessary to stream ridiculous media in my presence. If this means I end up alone, so be it. I’d rather die as myself than bend to some fucking pathetic evolution of society which has birthed a lack of good form. Call me old fashioned. I don’t fucking care. 1228. The weather is very warm again. The heat advisory from this morning extends to tomorrow night at 2300. Wow. This October rise in temperature is pretty typical for this area, as the onshore flow often reverses, sending the warm breeze our way from the other side of the hill (from the east). I’ve become accustomed to such changes in fall. There is no worry, however, because soon enough the weather will cool and remain as such all the way into next year. The wind may be very warm right now, but at least the air is moving. I informed those who spend time in my garage that the pro football discussion will not continue. I care not for how they may feel or react. The space is mine and subject to restrictions dictated by my mood. Fuck them. From this point in time until we leave for lunch, I am at a loss as to what can be done. My mood has diminished since yesterday, meaning I’ll have to mind my tongue as the day progresses. I certainly hope whomever is our server at the restaurant does not resemble the constructs that live inside my head. The result could be very bad... It WILL be very bad. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ Why did that have to happen? Yesterday was a solid indication of my feelings, but do all of the sightings, references and wishes have to drive my subconscious in such a direction? This feels completely unfair, although dreaming during sleep is one of the largest points of contention in existence. Maybe the line of dialogue from her is a sign that I really am further gone than I had suspected months ago. I don’t need any more of that shit, either. The first few dreams were quite enough to inform me that my balance is about as far off as is possible for a human being. Moreover, what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t have a fucking clue. There has never been the word ‘can’ when it comes to her. The only positives are that it was a dream, and yesterday is a clear reminder of just how strong I can be when the alternative is death. I need her more than ever, yet with each passing day the possibility of true understanding or validation continues to shrink. The dreams are merely reminders of the depth of my need for help. And no matter how many times I try to clarify or define such states, the truth is everything causes more pain inside. I’ve recently considered the idea that I may be ‘asking’ too much – an idea that would probably light up others’ interpretations of the current period – but the truth is that the two past shit situations cannot be denied regardless of how I may come across here or anywhere else. The damage is irreversible. As an aside, I am wearing a twenty-three year old shirt that was acquired for a very special trip to Disneyland. The shirt theme for that trip was ‘defunct dot-coms’ and even included the sock puppet, of all characters. This shirt reminds me of how wide-eyed I was regarding the early possibilities and promise of the public Internet in general, and my involvement at the time in particular. I actually had hope. Friday. Yesterday was ok, I guess. Very warm. Today will probably be the last day with a high temperature, though. I’ve been working on the car audio articles quite a bit and have left this shit alone for days. No one really cares, either. My words never go anywhere unfamiliar. Lunch yesterday was very nice. No issues; good food; nice atmosphere. There was a girl helping with the tables not long before we returned home, but I didn’t really see her as a problem so much as merely a reference for last year’s alteration in the way I had been thinking. Upon arriving here, the afternoon moved along very slowly due to the heat. I spent a good portion of the time in the garage with quiet music in the background. Nothing dramatic. The sun is about to rise over the trees and force me to close the blinds. Yikes. Anyway, later this morning I have to drive across the bridge to a car dealer with two passengers. My plan is to remain quiet and off to the side during the entire process. Yesterday rather humbled me, I guess. I feel very small and ineffective this morning. Some of it is due to conversation throughout the past few days regarding my launch tube (gun barrel, if you must) and the effort in cleaning it. Sometimes I sit here or in the garage and feel that everything I’ve done in the past no longer matters. All of my technical knowledge and experience has become meaningless. Saturday morning, post drive. The time is only 0848 and I have the entire day before me. All of the work will have to be completed early, unfortunately, since the weather is still hot. I believe the mercury is scheduled to fall beginning tomorrow. The trip to the car dealer yesterday was excruciating and required several hours of time, meaning when we finally arrived home in the afternoon I was overjoyed. What a fucking pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I went along in the first place. Literally the best part of the day was something wonderful in my eyes... The form I’ve desired for more than a year. She is amazing, yet a billion miles away. I expect such occurrences from time to time, so when they come along, I already know of the difficulty and the way I must deal with all that fucking pain. On the upside, today is already a huge improvement over yesterday because I have all the time and my devices, not to mention being able to gather my thoughts when necessary. The drive earlier this morning was smooth and comfortable and I have some coffee left. Soon I will take care of the short routine and straighten the house a bit before the weather is too warm. 1144. The typical stuff is finished and I am in the middle of taking care of a few loads of laundry. Over and above the usual crap, I have a plan to disassemble my secondary garage table and store everything differently so that the new car can be parked without issue. I’ve not had a ‘new’ car for many years, and though this one is not expressly mine, I’d like to protect it as much as possible. Moreover, my next vehicle will be very special, meaning the garage needs to be in order prior to that purchase. Once I find the ideal car, the garage priority will change. For the time being, I need the garage project to help get the mass of pain and desire out of my head, or at least to minimize the damage I am feeling at this very moment. Enough of this shit. Onward. 1659, same day. I am completely miserable. Time to get the fuck away from this shit. Sunday, I see. Yay. Whoopie. I am back from the drive with coffee in hand and the entire day to do as I feel. Yesterday went bad; hence the abrupt halt during the afternoon. Something happened that had me thinking of the only way this shit can be resolved (or ended) because the little enjoyments and other distractions continue to diminish as each day burns away. I keep thinking and thinking and then realizing that there is nothing for me. Others? Oh, of course. But me? Nothing. I see, I fall, I try to recover. Little by little I am running out of reasons for being here. Yesterday was another example of my inability to understand why the world must be this way. As a result of such an occurrence, I fell a bit further away and then failed to formulate a plan for getting myself out of the mood. I certainly hope today is not a repeat. I really don’t need any more of that shit. Sideways; like yesterday. I am sideways and there does not seem to be any recourse (like always). I certainly hope that what took place is not the shape of things to come. That could be very bad. I’ll have to wait and see, I suppose, along with making the effort to create better circumstances. I hope, anyway. I was upset prior to lunch yesterday, too, which helped to push me into reckless behavior. Believe it or not, I actually feel better and more mellow this morning, so hopefully this day will remain quiet and peaceful. Despite my brain being sideways, I can still take care of business and perhaps enjoy the football game(s). The hour is early. There is plenty of time for whatever seems best. And? ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ That shit will not fade away. I keep seeing her outstretched hand over and over no matter what I may be doing. Even at the car dealer two days ago when I was staring at the salesperson with her flowing hair and dark eyes, the other girl was taking control of my thoughts and the hair and eyes faded away. She is consuming me at times, mostly right after a dream. Over time it loses clarity and I can relax a little bit. Soon enough, though, she will return to my consciousness one way or another and derail whatever I may be trying to think or do. I can’t fucking help it. I need her. I need to take that outstretched hand and let her lead me to an embrace. Why did she ask that question? And what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t get it, and even considering the sheer level of desperation I feel each and every day, that dream’s meaning still eludes. One might think that the dire nature of my thoughts drove the subconscious to manufacture something confusing and relevant, yet I still can’t be certain. I am not a dream expert by any means. I am just a tiny person sitting here trying to understand everything. Bad situation; worsening as the clock spins. Bad. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Oh, you don’t wanna know.’ Roadies. The reference reminds me of that woman from forty-plus years ago and the thoughts that spun inside my head when I realized she was employed in the world’s oldest profession. Damn. What was I to do? I wish she was standing in this fucking office right now, believe me. I could use some understanding before shit goes full-tilt. Anyway... 1133 is what I see on the clocks. My routine is finished for the day and I have a head start on the garbage business. Laundry is running, as well. I have been trying to finish anything physical before lunch for the past few days in case the weather warmed beyond my comfort level. Yesterday was cooler than the last part of the week, and today is even cooler than that. This is very good and opens up other possibilities just in case I feel like moving beyond the norm. I will soon have the house to myself, too. My team does not play until late afternoon. I prefer the midday kickoff, but must bow to the schedule and adapt to game time. The situation and feelings from yesterday are weighing heavily this morning. I am being led in a very bad direction lately, meaning my head may begin to compute information as it did years ago when I felt cornered. This is not good, people. Not. Fucking. Good. I just saw something wondrous and beautiful. Despite the fact that I don’t need to see her, these things are going to continue unless I move away from here. The likelihood of such an occurrence is dependent upon a massive fucking windfall, meaning the chance is nil. My head already manufactured a plethora of stirring, beautiful situations in a matter of seconds. Damn. Whatever. This is what my life has become. 1156 on Monday, the 9th of October. Nothing is going my way except for a few little moments spent doing something I love, beginning with yesterday’s foray into hardware organization. I don’t know where the feelings come from, but sometimes when I put my mind into something very tedious and monotonous, the world melts away and I become very relaxed. Others look upon what I’m doing and comment that they do not possess enough patience for that type of work. Aside from the organization, this day is bland. I need to relax and think for a little while. Maybe the hardware and my truck stuff can be explored later. That kind of thing always seems to relax me. Tuesday, and the first morning in sixteen which is all mine. The hour is early, I have coffee and my program, plus lots of time ahead for whatever I wish to accomplish. Regardless of feeling pretty damned good right now, the issue from last year is beginning to irritate me. No, not the dreams. Another matter, and a situation which is not good for my general attitude. Whenever I don’t understand something, I tend to focus and analyze everything and search for help. Right now, however, there is no help. I can’t talk to anyone. Well, there aren’t any ears out there, anyway, so I may as well refrain from commenting upon such an idea. This shit is going to cause my diminishing mood to fall further down and leave me even more isolated and separated from other people. I don’t feel like ‘me’ very often these days, so the problem is basically adding to such misery. The combination is going to leave me quite unpleasant. Sometimes sadness is more dangerous than anger. Sadness will press me to wish everything away. Anger causes lashing, nothing more. If everyone ends up unhappy with my company as a result of this development, all the better. I really don’t want to be around them these days. I make nice because I’ve always been nice. Change is slow and difficult. For the time being, I need to try remaining calm and considering options for how to cope with losing aspects of my life which have always been there. I counted on them, too. Always. Now I have to make some sort of change and have no idea of where to begin. I don’t want this shit to ruin my day, either. I have to be productive. Morning is typically when I feel motivated. I need to take advantage of it. Disaster, regardless of how I feel. Marvelous. The rest of the shit takes a back seat to disaster. Everything flew away and I am sad. Wednesday has taken over on the heels of a very relaxing evening, despite the troubling afternoon. I managed to move forward a bit with the organization, too. As I sit here right now, I have no clue as to how I was able to break out of the din, but it happened nonetheless. The plan from a few days ago was to work on creating small spaces so they would lead to larger spaces. So far, it’s helping. The effort will continue today as soon as I finish the coffee. The wheels turn slowly, eh? Everything feels exaggerated. Work must intrude. Now. After? The negative material plane... The gunman acknowledged my actions and seemed to support what I needed to do – as if he already knew the steps that had to be taken and fully endorsed the shot heard ‘round the netherworld. After that, he chased me. Hmm. Was he trying to help? Maybe I should try initiating a conversation with him. Or, perhaps he is a physical manifestation of Julia’s anger toward me for being such a pain. Whatever the case, he will eventually find and kill me, meaning my best option may be to speak and see if anything develops. All this crap came from my head anyway. Oh, shit... What if there is an unconscious desire to end myself and the gunman represents the same? Damn. I have to leave that one alone for the time being and find some comfort. No, not that kind. The everyday type, nothing more. Floating here after Julia showed me one blissful day from three decades ago (closet door; mint green) made me very uncomfortable because if she is correct in the assumption that I connected validation, control and desire when that scene first played out, the future is even darker than I had first thought. My head has only become more deeply embedded within such a mindset and there is no way to change it after all this time. That single thought makes me want the gunman to succeed once and for all because I do not like feeling this way every fucking day. Trust me; it’s bad. Reality and the negative material plane have bled into each other on more than one occasion, but with regard to the gunman’s power, I don’t want such an aspect of this place to cross over and kill me. Not now, anyway. If that means I’m stuck in the black gulag for more time, so be it. As angry and disillusioned as I’ve become lately, the last thing I want is that guy after me until a tear forms between worlds. Not good. I’ll just remain here and wait. Floating. I hope I don’t see that fucking door anymore. Eh... Nothing is ever up to me, be it here in the zone or reality. Even the enigma is a billion miles away (just like the other one from my dreams). I feel a question coming on soon, too. I was in the passenger car – the first one – and did my best to interpret the signs and clues and then reached out to destroy a very damaging part of my past. Well, that didn’t affect much, did it? Here I am, like always, with a massive lack of understanding and only the tiniest steps forward. The real world that I experienced yesterday was a prime example of everything pressing on my brain and causing problems that did not exist a few years ago (perhaps two?). The change I mentioned last year still plagues me no matter which fucking world I am inside. There seems to be no recourse. Why did I go through all that shit in a frozen wasteland only to have the issues return to my everyday life? What a fucking maroon. The last few train rides did not accomplish much, either. I am beginning to understand why Julia keeps throwing the damned closet door at me, yet the full meaning seems larger than what I’ve seen thus far. And the other doors... Did I bypass all those opportunities because of the two shit situations? Did the problems hold me back? The first one has definitely continued to be a source of pain and sadness. There is simply no way around that shit. But the other doors? I’ll have to dive into the first again and learn if the goddess across the hall was the beginning of my dire feelings regarding validation. I just don’t know, but if Julia reminded me of something that fucking specific, there must be more than I’ve calculated to this point. I am still floating and the reason could be that I have to remain in-between until more analysis is completed. I can’t see it another way right now. Flash! Shit. Desert. Sand. Heat. Wind. How many fucking times have I been dropped here? There is something to the north, like most of the time. I see a structure again. And? I suppose Julia is finished with me floating in the negative space while analyzing everything which has taken place so far. I thought I was getting somewhere regarding the gunman. He might have been helping; he may have been trying to do Julia’s bidding by keeping me upright and alert during those mysterious times. I don’t know and may never thanks to being dumped here again. I guess I’ll fucking walk north and think for a while. I was in the desert long ago. That story of the past never ended, either. Everything just dropped off a few years ago and sits idle. What was I thinking? We blew up the hotel. Jaime was there for a while with her ever-changing, mood eye color and I loved being near that machine. I was chased by the gunman and the dragon. I remember the tall bartender and our quiet conversation. And then? Julie and I died over and over and fucking over until I was sick and tired of being put down like a common criminal. Then? Doors and sand; mountains and beaches; train after train. I’ve made progress, too. I really have. I understand how my thinking has become so horribly skewed, and I can see the way my obsession with the female form distorted and exaggerated itself until I fell into a pit of despair. Combined with feeling so desperate for understanding, those conditions have sent me so far off center that I can barely understand myself anymore. Julia has really done a number on me this time. Moreover, the three doors that represent my loss of potential and the way I steered myself in the direction of a very specific type of comfort rather than looking to the future are clearer now than weeks ago. As for the first three doors, I can now see how all that fear developed. It relates to the second shit situation; the fourth door caused me to realize just how important validation was to me (growing over time, as well) after suffering for years at the hands of the first shit situation. The closet door was idyllic – more or less, and according to what I knew and felt at the time – and as time passed through and beyond the glow, my head computed importance in life and quickly prioritized everything. Those priorities remain to this very second and have effectively removed any possibility of happiness. ‘You know.’ ‘Leave me the fuck alone, woman.’ ‘Find your destination, my dear.’ ‘I have nothing else left.’ Hasn’t Julia already hammered her point home? Have I not learned? Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I’ve connected the painful dots, I’ve related the doors, and I know exactly what I’ve become. There can no longer be any doubt of how I arrived here, either. No more questions. Part was my doing, and the rest was that of other people. They are all gone from the earth. I remain. I am between two positions right now. One is to continue living the way I have and push off concerns over external events; the other is the military mindset which has begun to tell me that there is little point in planning further than the end of each calendar day. As the discomfort continues to plague my mind and heart, I am seeing just how small and ineffective I’ve become in this life. Perhaps the negative material plane is all I have left. I guess I’ll keep walking until I learn of what lies in the distance. I suspect there is another resort. I wish I could visit one in reality. ‘I love you.’ ‘You can fuck right off.’ ‘As you wish.’ I can’t fucking trust that she will leave me alone anymore. Nothing has fully played out; interruptions seem to be the norm whenever I am placed somewhere rife with lessons. I’ve seen dioramas of the past, flashes and imagery from many years ago that were injected into my brain rather than appearing within actual sight, and have been almost continually questioned as to the meaning of the doors. Well, I put that shit to bed right quick – including the realization that door number four shaped me into what I am at this very moment – and see no reason for anything further to be dropped in my path. Shit situation one removed much of my potential enjoyment in life before it ever got off the ground whilst simultaneously causing more physical pain that one person should endure, and shit situation two removed my ability to fully connect with and trust other people. That was the point in life when I began to close myself off and hide as often as possible. My routes for walking to school or stores changed dramatically and I spoke with myself daily. The feelings which developed as a result of shit two also forced me to believe I would always be alone. I avoided all three doors due to fear, and shying away from any change was a direct result of my endless, fruitless fucking search for understanding. There it is. Along such lines, if the lovely little Julie appears again, I am going to jump her shit in a hot second. That would likely be my last chance to be exactly where I’ve needed for decades. Marvelous. And when I say 'need', I am lacing that word with more power than anything else in the fucking universe. The structure is taking shape, albeit a touch hazy from this distance. Something is flashing on the roof, if my eyes are not deceiving me. I can’t see very much yet. I certainly hope it is not the topper that was on Hotel Dracorum. Oy... That could be very bad seeing as last time I was chased around and forced to destroy the dragon in order to survive. At least I had the lovely Jaime at my side (and I at hers). ‘You are the king of your little castle.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘Embrace what you can.’ I have no idea what she means with that crap. My castle? Is Julia referring to the house or garage? I am in the fucking desert and can’t be concerned with reality when my future here is uncertain. The resort is massive and clearing quickly as I progress across the sand. There are gates, much like the very first hotel I ran across years ago. Everything inside that place was crazy, if you recall. Repeating the situation is not something to which I look forward, if this resort is the same. Hopefully I can get inside, cool off and clean myself to look loyally for the club, and then relax with a drink. Usually once I get comfortable, Julie pulls me out and sends me elsewhere. I hate that. Never enough time to think about the current state before it is changed. Oh, shit. The hotel is not as it was before. I am looking at the south side of the Venetian. Wow. Maybe Ellie is working at the bar and I can get a hug. Not likely. Such thinking is rather like hoping to find understanding in real life. Heh. Laugh it up. At least if nothing is out of order I can be cool and comfortable for a little while. ‘Proceed.’ ‘Yeah. Like I have much of a choice right now.’ ‘Go.’ ‘Piss off, woman. Please.’ Silence again. At least I am not floating anymore. That can be very uncomfortable. In my head, mostly. The other adventures through which I have been forced to endure are interactive, whereas the blackness of being in-between is akin to gulag. I suppose I should be thankful. The Venetian... A resort fraught with memories, both good and bad. There was supposed to be a beginning at the Venetian, but it turned into the beginning of the end. The occasion was right on the heels of some big life changes that year, too. Everything seemed fine until I destroyed it. No door there, for sure. I am hoping that the resort is as it was twelve years ago, a time when First Food & Bar existed, as well as a few other very cozy places in which to sink and think. I could use some of them right now. Fingers crossed. Holy shit, everything is in place right down to the bridge, clock tower and moat. I thought I would never see this place again... The location where Andrea and I spent so much time; connecting with Eleanor and learning that there are people who have zero restrictions with respect to whom they care about deeply; the fateful, beautiful in-between period when I thought everything was going to be ok. In reality? The situation created problems inside my head and eventually ran into a buffer stop and exploded. This resort has seen me many times. Some of those visits were actually good. I remember standing in awe of the passageway between the Venetian and Palazzo casinos, as well as being in front of the resort at eleven at night when the temperature was nearly ninety degrees and the entire strip was lit like Christmas. That occasion went to shit, too. The memories are all over the place right now. Stepping into one of the most beautiful, dynamic resorts I’ve ever visited will go one of two ways... All the way up or all the fucking way down. I expect nothing good aside from perhaps a few minutes’ rest with a cool drink. Ashley just popped into my head. Not good. She and I never visited the Venetian. Well, there is the big, scary dragon sitting atop the central roof structure. Wonderful. I hope he (she?) leaves me the hell alone. The massive creature is the only aspect of this resort that seems out of place. Everything else is as it was the last time I was here, four years ago. Through the doors and down the escalator I go, consequences be damned. I need comfort for crying out loud. The casino floor is... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off already.’ Damn. I can’t even think of the Asian restaurant or First without being interrupted by that damned woman. No, I have no idea what I ‘have to do’. Flash! Nightfall just took over in a split second. Wow. I wonder why such a change is necessary. Is it? Is anything going to be different at night? Um... Yep. I just remembered that the atmosphere inside the TAO Bistro which resides just below First changes after the dinner hour. Much like Rumjungle, the venue turns into a club and ends up crawling with gorgeous Asian hostesses and dancers. Shit. I never visited the restaurant, day or night but I’ve peeked inside a few times. Why the change in light? Am I supposed to see something? I’d rather go upstairs and see if the kitten is working. The idea is most unlikely, yet I feel compelled to find out the truth. I don’t want to see all sorts of exotic women gyrating all over the place. I spin on my heel and head back up to hit the second lift and stroll to the northwest corner and one of my favorite places in the world, First Food & Bar (of course, it is gone now like everything else that I’ve loved, but this resort is in a different world and far from reality). Nope. What am I seeing, you ask? Something called ‘Buddy V’s Ristorante’. Splendid. I believe the restaurant is the newest incarnation in that location. Damn shit fuck, anyway. Vegas changes so quickly sometimes that it makes my fucking head spin. Anyway, since First is no longer there (on this plane), I suppose I’ll head toward the main casino and find something comfortable. Hopefully, Double Helix is still in operation. That was always a good sink-in type of bar. The people around me look like vacationing robots. Heh. Perhaps I was the same years ago. I wish Julie was here with me right now. Or? Jaime and her unnaturally huge eyes. Either would be fine. I am alone, although if you consider the sheer number of occasions that I found myself in Vegas solo, one might believe I will be fine. Nope. I need something comforting, and there is nothing in either world more heartwarming than a loving companion. A person off of which I can bounce thoughts and ideas has always been a goal. I arrived in this town alone many times but never remained as such for very long. I always needed a very specific type of connection while within the machinery of this town, and the present is no different. I hope this doesn’t affect my ability to interpret Julia’s lessons. I am lonely. One destination just popped into my head, and since nightfall came along without warning, the restaurant is probably open. Whatever the actual time, Julia forced the night to arrive early. Yep... The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. At least the bar is cozy in that wonderful place. The dining room would be inappropriate for a single patron, but the bar would definitely not. If there is time, I can relax with my favorite cocktail (or three) and analyze the meaning of the doors. I’ve already solved the fourth door and the way it related to the shit situations, but the other three still need to be further hashed out and understood. I have to know for sure. Thankfully, restaurant row is a short walk. On the downside, the path to the same is full of memories, good and bad. There it is. I even see Jennifer behind the bar just like after I heard Andrea’s booties clicking their way out of my life. I very nearly died that night. To the bar, and one of the very few locations on this fucking planet where I am completely comfortable. Yes. ‘Welcome.’ ‘You look beautiful, like always.’ ‘Do we know each other?’ ‘Not really. A Maker’s Mint Julep... Please.’ ‘You got it.’ How long am I going to be allowed to remain here before everything is ripped away again? No idea. The plan right now is to sit here and get half lubricated in order to more easily deal with Julia’s shit. I’ve already seen a plethora of reminders of the fourth door and do not need to see anything further. My mind can take only so much of that beautiful day. I already know what it means and the effect it has had on the way I see the world. ‘You don’t wanna know.’ The layout is different than I recall, even after the most recent visit four years ago. I’ve dined here with four different women over a very long period of time and now find myself alone again. I could use some company, even a machine. Julia is not allowing anything right now, though. Jennifer is working and probably can’t sit with me as I unload a trainload of crap. Eh... She’s better off avoiding anything beyond superficial conversation, anyway. I am a syndrome just like during the past in reality. Vegas has a way of injecting memories both good and bad, this restaurant being both. The mixture of different time periods in this netherworld may serve to confuse me, as well. I’ll have to think clearly if I am to ever get out of here. ‘Another one?’ ‘Please, my dear. I may sit here for a while.’ ‘Whatever you wish, love.’ Oy. That word again. Remembering Andrea’s big, beautiful eyes looking into mine when she employed that endearing term is not going to help my situation. Maybe I should do something strange and see if there is any semblance of reality in this odd place. Up... Down... Up again... Then down further. What is this? A daily rollercoaster just to keep me thinking? Well, I do not like it at all. Understanding my current condition and the way I developed after the fourth door is not happening very quickly, and the deeper I attempt to consider these circumstances the further from knowing I flow. There have been connections (partly thanks to Julia and what she has forced me to recall), yet the full meaning still somewhat eludes because it is so fucking complicated. I am sliding in and out of a mental and emotional cave fraught with damning thoughts and the dark caresses of death. The time spent outside that space forces me to peer in and try to see the meaning behind the lack of light. So confusing. Thank God I am in Vegas again. This is better than nothing. Sitting within the sumptuous Double Helix with notepad and cognac did not assist me all those years ago. Lounging throughout First Food & Bar with its enormous windows overlooking Vegas Boulevard combined with a beautifully sculpted and delightfully discreet bartender served to help for a time, but in the end solitude took over my consciousness and drove me from the large windows with fright. That was reality. This is not. Such a reaction and my resulting behavior were inevitable, of course. Many a night has been spent yearning and searching for the very special comfort which has eluded me for years. When I feel I am moving in such a direction, nothing can slow me. Nothing. Before running out the door of First Food & Bar so many years ago, I spoke to the bartender at length since she was not busy and I was damned-near the only person in the entire lounge. Our conversation started on the surface – as I would imagine most do – but quickly became much more thanks to my penchant for candid conversation. I find that babbling about the usual tourist interests is shallow, hollow, and annoying to those who hear it day after day. Instead, we spoke about need, desire, emptiness, and fulfillment. Her insight was astounding and I would imagine it grew from years of discussing any number of topics with those never seen before and never to be seen again. Some travelers seek much more than food, drink, and the possibility of monetary and carnal satisfaction, yet my current circumstance has found me searching for the root causes of my obsession and other dire needs that I have not been able to live without. I should have stayed much longer that night, though. The girl was the epitome of a Vegas confidante, I tell you. She was art to the nth degree. Mercy. I wish the restaurant in question was still there. She may have been able to help with this door. For now, I shall sit here, gaze at Jennifer’s gorgeous form and flowing hair, and drink myself until something changes. Perhaps I can have something to eat if my tongue loosens too much. I would rather wrap my mouth around Jennifer’s labia, but I suppose a Caesar and some bread will have to suffice in this netherworld. I mentioned doing something strange but fear is holding me back. I don’t want Julia pulling me out of this fucking resort. I need it right now. Bad. The barstool and huge mirror over the bar are allowing a view of patrons darting this way and that, the Spanish beauty (along with her olive-skinned cleavage) gracing the kiosk, and is helping to keep me from the prying eyes of the masses. This cozy corner is succeeding in providing a temporary feeling of comfort and belonging. In the end, however (and as expected), I already know all of it will melt into a haze of smoke, alcohol, and longing. Just another middle-aged wreck searching for comfort. This town is my sanctuary. Blending and disappearing in plain sight are so simple to achieve and so necessary that any explanation will fall short of the mark. The heat keeps the mind sharp and driven toward any set of doors. The towering plush invites one with a draw unequaled in other locations. Plush for the mind, body... Soul? Maybe. Mind and body for sure. That plush is deep in me and required from time to time in order to survive this life. I need it as I need nothing else. However long I last at this bar... Well, I have no idea. This creation is the work of someone else. Part of me, yet not. I mentioned the summer heat of Vegas and the doors... Those doors are not only able to cool and comfort, they may be able to save me. Perhaps one of these days they will. I may need more help than Julia can provide. Reality? Sure... Fuck it. Thursday morning is here and my little, distorted world is in full swing. I see he is going ‘over there’. Well, probably, anyway. I don’t have an ‘over there’ any longer. Not for years. And I know why the former is likely taking place. I’ll have to stop thinking about it or today will be shot to hell. I can’t have that right now. I just can’t. At some point this morning I need to take a drive to the wine store to pick up an order, meaning I’ll have to be fairly organized with my time. I do not wish to be on the other side of the hill when the restaurants are open because there will be too many cars all over the place. That makes me uncomfortable. Shortly I will take care of half the routine so my arrival after the drive will be rewarding. Yesterday I came up with a plan to reconfigure the garage (large items), and working toward such a goal is going to take priority over other concerns. The idea is going to entail moving my huge tool box, one shelving unit, the freezer and my table, the latter having been in the center of the space for the last few years. This process will take time and requires that I empty and defrost the freezer. That is something that’s been waiting for us to use much of the stored food. I’ve also been filling empty freezer space with bottles of tap water to ensure that it remains very efficient. Part of the process for relocating the table began yesterday, too. The electrical lines and boxes have been removed from the center of the garage and reconfigured to be much neater. I also began disassembling the ‘housing’ that’s mounted on the table so it’s more usable once it reaches the new location. I envision the project will take more than a week and I’d like to have it finished prior to Halloween. I’ve decided to head over to the wine store now. Returning home will feel really good and I could use some of that today. 1000, straight up. The pickup has been completed without issues of any kind. I was in and out of the store at a good time. As predicted, arriving home again feels very nice. Time to organize everything and then head to the garage. The arrival of Friday has taken place sans fanfare for the common webmaster. What does this mean, you ask? Nothing good is on my horizon. That time has passed. There have been many years in between. Hmm... In-between. Will that shit ever end? Oh, and I was wrong about yesterday morning. He was not going ‘over there’. The destination was elsewhere. I don’t have any destinations anymore. I just sit here. I am beginning to think that the entire negative material plane affair is nothing more than a motivational tool to get me to alter my outlook to something more positive. I don’t see any sort of change happening in the future, however, because the shitty aspects of life and loss continue to pile with the passage of time and no one can stop them. The ‘good’ has already ceased. All I can do is tread water and embrace the little things while they still have the power to lift me ever so slightly. Another dream early this morning served as an additional reminder that the understanding does not exist. There was a really nice embrace, though. Really nice. There should have been three in total, but something went wrong in that dream world and two disappeared. Whatever. Yesterday I went a bit further with the garage work and will probably continue later this morning if the mood strikes. My toolbox is now out of the way so the table can be relocated against the east wall and I cleaned up the wiring a bit. I’ll have to think about the next steps for a while before diving in because once the table is in its new home, I will not have easy access to the wall behind. The toolbox was actually much easier to move than I had originally thought. Not bad considering it weights upward of half a ton. Interesting, eh? This is my life. I’ll be pleased once the table is relocated. Hopefully the satisfaction is enough to keep me going for a while longer. I need to push against all of the bad things that live in my head. Monday has rolled around again and part of me is overjoyed to be here right now, especially after missing a few days of concentration at the editor. The weekends usually entail driving to the City, meaning my mornings are disrupted. This morning has arrived just in time to keep me upright a little while longer. I need the peace and quiet of being here alone so badly that one more day of garage work or driving may have caused a blown gasket. The upside of all that shit is my garage is in much better shape for the effort. The fourth door hit me in the fucking face yesterday during the football game and represents the worst of the downside. Ever since beginning this latest, lamenting installment of the continuing story of the doors, I’ve been grating against Julia’s inference regarding the closet door, the way I think (to this very second) as it relates to that fateful day, and the idea that I’ve never been able to rise above the shit situations due to weakness. The closet door has become king of the fucking hill. Splendid. It hit me in the face yesterday because the more I try to distract myself from reality, the stronger those feelings become. The bottom of the whole shitaree is me nearly doubling over while maintaining a facade that weighs more than this fucking house. I am exhausted, so thank Christ there are several hours ahead for me to analyze. God damn does Alyssa have some breasts. Geez. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ I wish I had a single fucking clue as to what she meant. That dream was full of emotion, whereas the previous issues and scenes were driven mostly by desire. Well, there was the occasion in which she held me and I felt that the bad was finally going to go away. That was just a quick flash, though. When she stood on the landing and reached for me, the duration of the scene was much longer. I still can’t believe it, either. Stirring. ‘...while we still can’ is one of those lines I am going to chew for the rest of my life. Reality will never explain it to me. No fucking way. As always, and with everything else causing me to shovel shit against the tide, there is no recourse. None. I have to lump it. There is no more ‘like’, as well. Nothing good is on my horizon. Oh, everything is out there – somewhere – yet none of it is for me. I already know. What keeps me sitting in this chair day after day is beyond my comprehension, to be honest, and when combined with the beauty of her reaching for me and uttering those words, I am surprised to be doing ANYTHING at all. I just don’t know. The weekend was very productive regarding my garage. Everything along the back wall is in place and the only step left in that area is to empty the storage rack so it can be properly leveled. The big table is in place, too. I have yet to raise it because organization must come first. I am going to empty the cabinet that I inherited from my neighbor last year and get rid of it so the freezer can live in the same place. The old cabinet will return to the chimney, as well. I am much further along than I had thought possible in such a short amount of time. This is good. If I can get all the shit out of my head later this morning, perhaps the day can be productive. I need more ‘up’ and less ‘down’, for crying out loud. The garage is capable of providing only so much enjoyment before the past takes over and leaves me sans strength. I don’t want any more of that shit right now. Too much fucking pain. God damn, Holly is so cute sometimes. 0901. I have yet to do anything aside from sitting here thinking and typing. My show is playing on the right-hand display, as always. Once the coffee is gone I’ll move to the housework and then maybe the garage. Now that the process of rework has begun, I can dive into anything related, and that means items which can be donated or tossed, as well as moving the heavier stored crap forward to be replaced with the lighter items. That will facilitate the removal of the center column that I installed a few years ago. It’s funny how my mind has changed over time. Anyway, I’ll be into the housework very soon. Reconfiguring the garage is very tiring, but I know once everything is in place it will shine. I had another dream about her. It was very different from the previous occasion. She was different, too, yet I don’t know how to describe the feelings or what I was seeing right next to me. And were we ever close... Right there whispering into each others’ ears. Something had been going on and I think I was trying to help. Aside from that, I really can’t recall anything. Being close to her is amazing. Too bad it will never be real. Today is Tuesday and I am overjoyed to have several hours ahead for whatever I wish to do. Yesterday went as I had hoped in that I switched the heavier items for lighter stuff on the upper shelves. Once completed to my satisfaction, I went further and emptied the shelving unit on the back wall, leveled it, and then returned most of the stuff to the shelves. Overall I’ve created a bunch of space, not the least of which is a mass of things that will be picked up by the donation center next Monday. The process took hours, although the benefits are knowing where everything is located, having all of the holiday stuff at the ready, and the ability to remove the center post (which was to be the most difficult operation of the entire affair). I may not do much out there today because I don’t feel very well about life and have no wish to expose myself to other people right now. Moreover, the dream from early this morning is affecting my outlook, like always. I don’t see anything good happening, ever, and eventually this mindset will bleed into the way I communicate. Good or bad as it may be, I have to remain mindful. I have laundry to wash, too, so I’ll have to go out there in a little while and ensure there is adequate space for the clothes. The fog outside is thicker than pea soup right now. Visibility just south of here was reported as only a few hundred feet. Ugh. Cool weather is good for working around the house, though. I’ll have to get away from this infernal machine and take care of a few things very soon. I pulled apart the lighted base for my three huge vodka bottles prior to closing the garage for the evening yesterday with the intention of adding a few strips of light and ensuring that the assembly will sit level when I install the shelf. Maybe I can get it back together while washing clothes. I’m not in the mood to see people, so once I transition to the laundry and related organization, the door will be closed. No one listens to anything I say, so I see little reason to be near them anymore. Yesterday was a prime example of the way I am ignored and/or disregarded, and as I’ve stated on many occasions, if I am made to feel unimportant, the way I treat other people becomes very harsh and unwelcomed. The process is happening as I type these words. The negative material plane does not count, either. That place is different. Reality is paramount much of the time because I must deal with it regardless of the pitfalls. ‘If she was there, I’d go, too. I would go over there just like the way I see things playing out sometimes in reality. I would go to her every day if circumstances allowed for such behavior. I see it. I know what is going on. I know all of it, really. Unfortunately, there is nothing over there for yours truly. Bereft. Weak. Angry. But? I would go there. And? I would go much further for her.’ Wednesday. All of the usual crap is in place. Coffee... Whatever. I am tired. I went a bit further with the garage reorganization yesterday. The cabinet is outside on the driveway, empty. I am going to empty and defrost the freezer later this morning and then move it to its new location. The small mural is already in place, too. I have to fabricate a unique shelf for holding stuff above the mural and freezer. Everything is in pretty good order after making space for laundry, so today I won’t have to go crazy trying to get everything in order. ‘I was there. No, not the same location mentioned above, but elsewhere. I was exactly where I so badly needed to be, and the wonder took over. I thought of Ashley, too. I always thought of that girl when I was in such a place, and the day in question was one for the ages. I turned half my life upside down, escaped everything and everyone, and shut off communication in order to find that place. I was right fucking there and will never forget it. And? That was the second occasion. A line from the first... ‘I knew it’. I did know. The information was right before my eyes prior to that horrible day. I went over there and knew of the consequences. I also knew that the fourth door was the reason. Unfortunately, I did not put two and two together for many years. Now everything is gone. I should have remained at that precise location for as long as possible and then slammed the door on life. Regret... One of the two thieves that have robbed me of a future. The other is fear.’ 1116. I successfully completed the daily routine and went through both of the vanity drawers. I haven’t reorganized that stuff for years, so the result is not only everything in good order, but more room in the hall closet. I’d like to clear at least one shelf in there so the sheets can be stored. The process will take time, much like reconfiguring one of my cabinets in the dining room. There are items which will be donated next Monday, too. I’ll have to get into the cabinet and see what develops. I absolutely LOVE creating more space in the house. It leads to space in the garage, which, in turn, yields even more storage possibilities inside. I did a bit of research and learned that the first appearance of the word ‘nothing’ within the site was March 6th, 2002. The previous sentence contains appearance number 5209. Just a thought. Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. He would have been 83. Yesterday was also the 34th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake. So sad. I remember my grandfather was on the phone with his brother-in-law who lived in Newport Beach at the time. As my grandfather looked out the dining room window, he exclaimed, ‘Ricky’s car is about to jump off the street and onto the lawn! It’s the big one!”. I will never forget that day. The world needs a gigantic toilet flush. People just don’t fucking learn, ever. I’d press the handle but my power has been removed by other people. My power is gone for good. Thursday, I see. Just like nineteen years ago; I saw. Never mind. The hour is early as of yet, just 0810. I have the bulk of the day to myself. After yesterday’s progress in the garage, I may lay off some of the work today due to the weather (again). The temperature outside is already more than ten degrees above the ambient inside. That means there will be plenty of heat later. I will not work in that shit. I have plenty to do inside the house, anyway. As for yesterday, well... There was wonder and beauty, neither of which had much to do with me. I lived through yet another fucking situation in which I was exposed to beautiful things for a while only to be expelled out the other side secure in the knowledge that there is no longer any ‘good’ on the horizon. All I will experience is that of other people, mostly at a distance. Afterward I will retreat, fall on my stupid face, and attempt to find some enjoyment. Sometimes I am closer than others. The end result never changes, however. It is ‘the way of things’, and the damage is cumulative. Trust me... All is burning away. The donation people are coming in four days. I have most of the items ready to go and will add a few here and there as the days pass. I am overjoyed to see the garage sans columns and nearly wide-open through the center. My neighbor informed me last night that the motorcycle, extra parts and spare engine can all go back into his garage anytime. That is fucking excellent. Between that stuff and the donations, my space is going to be very clear. Always in the background, I am going in circles. Only the real space benefits, not my head. Nothing is over. The train cannot stop, ever. I will work out there today despite the lingering negatives, disastrous situations which leave me heartbroken, and lack of future promise. The way I see it, if my life is going to be so thin, I may as well be as comfortable as possible. When the coffee is gone, I’m going to empty and defrost the chest freezer. Forward progress is never bad. ‘The most beautiful girl in the world picks my ties out; eats my candy, drinks my brandy.’ Hmm... Indeed. Where the hell is she? 1125. My routine is finished and I pulled all of the water bottles out of the chest freezer. A few more items made their way into the kitchen, too. I am very close to defrosting the unit and starting from scratch. All of the water bottles will rest at the bottom so any food does not reach down so far. Once everything is in place – including moving the freezer to its new location – I’ll fire it up and await refilling the top half. Moving it across the garage will allow me to place the wooden shelving unit against the chimney where it previously lived. The west and south walls will be in good order, finally. After Monday, the amount of empty space in the garage will be amazing. Donations... Gone. Motorcycle and boxes of parts... Gone. Motorcycle lift... Gone. I am looking forward to seeing the entire weeks-long project come to a close. Curious; three years ago I was all-in for making the garage a second office and work space at the same time with no aspirations of parking in there, whereas now I want the entire center area clear. I will never be able to build the trike, however the space will be available just in case something good actually comes along in my life. For some reason, I’ve been fairly uncomfortable (physically) throughout most of the morning. I don’t know what brought on this anxiety, but to deal with it I poured a nice cocktail. In addition, at some point while doing my housework, a movement seems to have affected my back. Insult to injury, and all that shit. You know. I really don’t need any more fucking problems, so I guess I’ll sit here and relax for a while before heading in another direction. The house is still cool and comfortable. One of these days I’ll have to get the hell out of here for a little while. I think about going somewhere when I see cars drive by. The electronics store is gone, a few of my favorite lunch spots are gone, so finding a direction is more difficult than ever. 1300, straight up. I slid the freezer a little bit to see if removing all of the water bottles helped enough for me to relocate it without tipping. As long as the unit remains upright, it will not have to sit for a day to normalize. I’d prefer to power it up as soon as possible. Maybe when my drink is gone I’ll head out there and slide the fucker across the floor and disconnect the power. I need to French kiss Holly’s labia for an entire day. Splendid. Shoot me. I don’t care. External forces created the way I think these days. Blame them. Anyway, if I can slide the unit fairly easily, the move will allow the wood cabinet to be placed back where it was at the foot of the chimney. The temperature out there is not as high as I would have thought when the sun rose this morning, so moving a few things around the garage might be easier than I’d predicted. Maybe the breeze is helping. Moreover, one upside to this day is that I saw the au pair in her jeans moments ago and felt absolutely nothing. She must have been no more than a phase. This is very good. The more I obsess over what I see, the closer I come to the end of the world. Less is more, as it were. As for the weather, I’m sure this will be one of those days in which the house warms for a few hours and then ends up much warmer than outside. As long as the air is moving, all will be fine. I am really looking forward to preparing dinner with my friends in the background, too. Regardless of whatever heat may develop inside, I am going to embrace the evening. I need it. Good things are happening to the house and garage, and I simply MUST appreciate all of them. Dinner and my show later are no different. I’ll head to the empire very soon. Moving back and forth between the negative material plane and reality would seem to be my destiny. Isn’t that just fucking peachy? I am half a person, or less. Ugh. Holly shares the facial trait that drives me up the fucking wall. I still can’t explain it. Maybe there is no such explanation. And maybe I can’t follow a single line of thinking without being continually distracted by beauty. As I said... Peachy. Half. Broken. Waiting. Friday morning, 0801. Coffee. Sideways. Nothing is going to happen here today. Saturday morning, 0845. Coffee. Sideways. The drive came and went without issue. Oh, there was the typical contingent of wing-nut drivers, but overall I arrived at the destination and then exited the city sans problems. I am overjoyed to be home again. The daily routine will be started a bit earlier than usual because there is a college game starting soon and I am concerned about the outcome and the way it may affect my team later in the season. My pro game is not on until Monday night, so tomorrow I’ll be relegated to watching some other games as I pass the time and do my housework. The weather is again very cool and will help as I continue the new garage configuration. I am rather looking forward to Monday when the donations are picked up. That’s going to leave a big hole in the center of the floor. As for the freezer, there are only a handful of items left. I should be able to pull the plug today and then finish the project tomorrow. There are college cheerleaders in yoga pants on the right-hand display. This shit just never ends. There will always be something pressing me down. 1038. All of my usual morning work is finished and I moved a few things around in the garage in order to make room for dry cleaning. I also have one load of laundry to do. Aside from housework, there are still three lighted strips that need to be connected. After reconfiguring the garage, I had to move some of my displays and have yet to hook up power. I’m considering running a trunk line around the top perimeter just in case things are added later, plus the existing connections can be tied to the trunk so everything is a bit cleaner. Writing about the goblet causes my heart to run through the gamut of emotions, from those desperate, suicidal ideation-laden dashes to the warmth and comfort of knowing I could escape the norm and disappear into a gigantic, money-driven machine and become no one. I feel happy and sad at the same time. On the heels of those two, there is another, more depressing realization that I may never be where I need again in this life. Too much has changed, mostly me. The fact that restaurants that I loved for many years continue to disappear is very sad, but the processes inside me are vastly worse. I fear that if I visit that wondrous town in the future, my perception of everything will be so skewed that I may not find the necessary comfort that seemed so easy in the past. This is not good, people. A pair of very well-dressed Jehovah’s Witnesses visited a few minutes ago, and despite the appearance of a nearly four-foot pentagram on display inside my garage, they were very pleasant and welcoming. Unbelievable. I am always polite and pleasant toward those who move from one door to the next with the intention of gathering souls into the fold, but I must admit that inside my head were carnal thoughts that cannot see the light of day. Even the older woman who read scripture to me, believe it or not. I was attracted to her adorable smile and smooth skin. Such thinking has clearly informed me that the path they try to steer others toward is now completely alien to me. I have no reason to be impolite or unpleasant, so I try to listen and then gently shut down the conversation to avoid wasting their time. The process may cost me a few minutes, but I honestly believe that being pleasant toward them is the right thing to do. I have all the time in the world these days. 'When evolution selects its agents, it does so at a cost; it makes demands in exchange for singularity. And you may be asked to do something against your very nature. Suddenly, the change in your life that should have been wonderful comes as a betrayal. It may seem cruel that the goal is nothing more than self-preservation; survival.' Another day has gone by. Today is Sunday and I am back from a very quick morning drive. The alternate route north through the City paid off and shaved a few minutes off the overall trip. That was nice. Now I have the entire day to myself. In other matters, I awakened today to learn that the infernal Internet was down, and still is. My control center is operating via the phone like the last time this happened. I received a message from the provider informing me that they are dealing with the problem. Okay. I have no choice in the matter, so whatever works, I guess. Monday morning has come around yet again in the rotation. This is the 182nd Monday since I stopped working full-time. Very interesting. The enigma has been in my head for a while due to a program I watched yesterday afternoon. I saw similar lines, although the girl was not as tall as the original. Sometimes the enigma enters my head due to some errant reference, and then I can’t fucking get her to leave. The donations should be picked up sometime today (prior to two this afternoon), and my concentration should lie within my ever-improving garage. She has thrown a wrench into the machinery yet again, and I don’t know if my day is going to end up fully derailed or not. The woman is so incredible to see that one glimpse or thought can drive me completely insane. I don’t like the way the obsession affects me these days. I have recently realized that as time passes, my sense of beauty continues to distort, meaning there are less and less forms which stir me right now than in the past. I don’t know what I can do about this shit, either. Everything fucking hurts because they are out there and I am right here, presumably for the rest of my miserable life. I can’t be close to them at all. At some point this morning I will finish the coffee and then work around the house. I need her the hell out of my brain if I am to accomplish any semblance of work. 1117, same day. The donations have been picked up and I am overjoyed to have seen everything go where it is needed. Anything donated to that organization helps needy families, mostly those that have children with disabilities. I will be scheduling another date to have more household items picked up, too. The empty space in the garage provides equal satisfaction. Next will be the motorcycle and related materials. Once finished, the center of the garage will be completely void of any clutter. Along that line of thinking, after everything disappeared this morning, I relocated the bike to clear space near my workbench. This is a wonderful change regardless of whether or not the car ends up parked inside. Dry weather means it will live outside most of the time. The massive shift in the way my garage appears is very important for the nighttime atmosphere, with everything along the back wall visible and illuminated at night. Moreover, during the day I need not worry about whomever may approach the house because the messages on that wall clearly convey the idea that I am not a person with whom to be trifled. This is very good and a state for which I have hoped for a few years now. I am going to continue to work on small details each day to maximize those messages. The morning cocktail is beginning to loosen me. Thank Christ I am alone or things would head south very quickly. As happy as I am about the changes in the garage, there are still underlying issues which will never let up. I am compelled to demonstrate a change in attitude, as well. I need to show certain people that I am but half of what they may believe, if not less. Anger is perpetual. And... Wednesday. I have not spent much time gathering my thoughts due to working around the house. I successfully finished the freezer project yesterday; emptied, defrosted, cleaned and then back into operation. Very good. I also moved the old garage cabinet to the back porch where it will wait to be given away (or destroyed, whichever comes first). The space leftover from all this crap going away and being reorganized is wonderful. I’ll be heading back into caring for little steps again, too. Small spaces lead to larger spaces. Once my coffee is gone, I’m going to visit the market for a few staples and then return to do some housework. I need to go over there early before the possibility of changing my mind. And speaking of ‘changing’... Watching my latest program last night proved that whatever shift in my way of thinking that occurred last year is still in full swing and very strong. I could not believe the sheer level of desire during certain scenes with regard to one actor. The damaging dreams have had quite the effect upon the way I see other people. When combined with so many disastrous situations that create anger out of the clear, blue sky, I am surprised to be social with anyone these days. My condition continues to worsen as the clock turns. I can’t fucking do anything about anything. This is not only very sad, but maddening to a great degree. I’m pretty sure one day everything will come to a head and bad things will happen. It is only a matter of time. As of yet, I’ve been able to carry forward in life and please others as expected. If only they knew what goes on inside my head. Not good. '3000 miles from HER? 3000 millimeters would be ideal. Jesus Christ... The meaning... Right fucking there.' Thursday, 1043. My daily housework is out of the way and I have a nice, fat cocktail next to me. I also have a plan to finalize the dining room modifications by relocating one cabinet to the chimney in the garage and moving the shelving unit that lives there to the top of my laundry cabinet. The operation will require some reinforcement of the existing shelves that are above the washer and dryer. I may get out there later and do some work. The downside is that I must remove the speaker from the same location. For the next few months, I’ll probably only have stereo audio on one side of the garage until such time as I can procure another pair of floorstanding loudspeakers. The old, walnut units need to be protected, so the plan is to build another shelf high above the floor to hold them. I can wrap each enclosure so they remain clean. Back inside the house, the dining room will enjoy more open space. That corner has appeared quite cluttered since the cat tree was added. I don’t like it. At least a solution is in the works. The only caveat is motivation. We shall see how I feel later this morning. For the time being, I am going to relax here and gather my thoughts. The main reason is there are now two enigmas and I had a hell of a time handling one. The result is realizing that this is how I am to remain for the rest of my life... At a tremendous distance from everything I need. All I can do is ‘see’, rather than be involved. Nothing good is on my horizon. Get used to that statement. Like yesterday, I silenced the phone early in the day and turned it upside down. I do not wish to see or hear any notification of a message from anyone; text, voice or otherwise. This is a clue as to the depth of my pain and the fact that in the space of one year I have closed myself off like never before. Not good. I’ve always been a very nice, helpful person. Lately, however, I believe that my condition must take priority over that of other people regardless of what they may want or need. Next day. Friday. The daily activities are far beyond redundant. They are also rather ridiculous. Filling space? Or, conversely, something to type while I am trying to think? I don’t know. I feel like shit every day and sitting here in the morning is about the only activity that I find comfortable anymore. Daydreaming bothers me so I try to stay distracted. Dreaming while asleep is beyond my control and most of the time the dreams float away soon after and I forget. I keep seeing her (and others once in a while) and falling all over myself like a child outside the toy store window gazing at the most elaborate, expensive merchandise available. All I can do is look. I am tired of these continuing processes. Every fucking day, you ask? Oh, yes. From morning to afternoon to night... Nothing is coming my way. Nothing good is on the horizon. And don’t give me a blast of shit for being negative, either. I won’t fucking hear it. One of the dreams earlier this morning was actually pretty cool. Something about electronic test equipment. Whatever. Silver snakeskin and slipstream. Slip. I am losing it. No one understands and I think that is best. I won’t talk about it anymore. Snakeskin. Remember the blue dress? It represented a woman. I think she’s fucking dead now. The cavern? That was the inside of my head. The wind was the sound of my voice. And the fucking mustard? I won’t talk about that one. Live with it. If I am going to be subjected to the same shit over and over every Goddamned day, someone is going to hear about it – mostly the keyboard. The mustard is related. I’ve been squished, relegated, routed and fucked over for so long that the aspects of life which continue to bring even the slightest bit of enjoyment are all I cling to anymore. The steepest climb right now is finding a way to steer myself away from anger and toward something productive. Anything, really. Hopefully there can be a smidgen of enjoyment as I try to remain distracted from reality. 0833 on Friday morning, October the 27th. The only reason the date makes any fucking difference at all is because Halloween is in four days. Otherwise, every day resembles the previous. As for the holiday, I’ll probably have the garage ready, but will my head be prepared for the holiday? No answer. The last two mornings have been very cool – like down into the forties – so once the morning furnace cycle is complete, the temperature inside the house drops fairly quickly. Maybe I should do something other than sitting here in order to keep warm. Heh. There are always improvements to be made around here, yet as time passes I find myself caring less and less. The temperature is nothing to me. I can deal with the cold sans issues. I have lived in places that make this weather seem downright balmy. My head will be sideways on Halloween. It always is. I will see things, become very depressed, and then make nice like everyone else. The story taking place in the netherworld is affecting my ability to rise above the difficulty and care for my housework. I am completely helpless anymore, a frail wisp of what I once was, and continually shoved aside by people. The only time when I can find any semblance of comfort is while alone. Tuesday night, the holiday, will be wonderful for a little while, mostly while I get things in order. Later, however, life will once again come to the forefront, very blurred and dim. I already know. There is just no getting around it anymore. Sideways is all I have left. Sideways and a keyboard; dreams and disappointment. Dreams, indeed. They are ruining me and I am not at fault. Saturday, post drive. I used the alternate route like last weekend and covered half the town in a matter of minutes. Very nice. I still have coffee left, so sitting here for a while seems the best idea right now. As of yesterday, the center of the garage is completely empty. Everything has been relocated back to my neighbor’s garage, I swapped the two cabinets as previously described, and performed a general cleaning of whatever had been left behind. I also mounted the door to the side of the chimney so everything in that corner appears very neat. Overall I am very pleased, yet the inside of my head is actually worse off than prior to the big project. The usual... Seeing; dreaming; nothing. Disappointment in the world; irreparable damage that was caused so long ago that I can’t remember any segment of my life in which the related difficulties did not become the focus at some point. Every day, to this very second, in fact. My work in the garage and house does not fucking matter. It’s nothing more than ‘something to do’. Marvelous. Still, I am pleased to be at home for the duration regardless of whatever pitfalls may come along later. Eh... The motivation for the garage is probably the arrival of Halloween in three days. Afterward I will likely lose myself again because there will be one less aspect of life that matters. ‘That’s it?’ ‘What else is there? I got chicken burnin’.’ See. Desire. Fall. Anger. Repeat. Away we go, back to the bad place... The view from my corner table at First Food & Bar. So sad Shit. I hear her voice again. ‘I am nearly finished with you, my dear.’ ‘What the fuck does that mean? Are you going away?’ ‘I’ve tried; you’ve resisted. I can see the end of the road long before it arrives.’ ‘I still don’t know what I have to do.’ ‘Exactly.’ Ah... Shit. If Julia gives up on me, what can I do? Is there anything left for which to strive? Cocktail number three. I am still watching Jennifer move back and forth as she serves the bar and restaurant. She reminds me of those servers at the cozy brewery in Pleasanton fifteen-plus years ago and the desperation I felt due to needing to see all of the information. I had to see everything but knew I never would. I still feel the same way. The negative material plane may allow such an indulgence, yet in reality anything along such lines is far more distant. As time passes, my obsession continues to focus, my age increases, and everything that seemed within reach is pushed further and further away. The way I view beauty is so fucking distorted that the likelihood of anything real being where I need is for naught. I don’t know what to do. The servers at the brewery came along at a time when my obsession was forming, and the strongest desire I felt was to measure and create a database of sorts for comparison and to understand at what point the numbers became pushed far enough for the subject to become an enigma. That is to say a woman with dimensions that straddled the line between attractive and unattractive. To this very moment, I’ve only had two chances of actual study, the first nearly killing me. After all this time, I’ve come to realize that I will never be able to learn the solution to such an equation. Beauty is so far beyond subjective that I can no longer find reason. Moreover, the fourth door contributed to a type of future that could not have been predicted. I know one crucial detail, but it cannot be spelled out here or anywhere else regardless of which world I consider, the nether or reality. This is so fucked up that I may soon lose track of everything. Julia’s question is destined to go unanswered forever. ‘Jennifer?’ ‘Yes, love? Another drink?’ ‘I need to drink in more of you than I’ve seen.’ ‘I know.’ ‘So...?’ ‘I can’t help you anymore. That which you cannot see will remain as such.’ ‘But...?’ ‘I’m sorry. I have to remain behind her line and be your bartender.’ There it is... The beginning of the end. 'Can you be my friend?' 'Of course.' God bless her. As much as I'd like a mass of other things to take place right now, I suppose I'll have to obey Julia's wishes and restrict myself to conversation. Thanks to reality, I am already fully accustomed to not being where I need, not speaking of what is most important, and being left on the side of the road with respect to others taking me seriously as a fucking person. Sitting here and doing nothing more than chatting with the bartender should be a cake walk compared to the rest. One hand tied behind my back, and all that type of shit. At least I can stare, too. She’s lovely. Maybe I failed to appreciate the fourth door at the time. Maybe? I can’t say for sure because the memory is still stirring. Many other aspects of life and past events often drive me to similar thinking; as if they should have been more enjoyable while originally taking place, and now that I am decades older they appear much better than in reality. Does that make sense? Like that huge birthday dinner at the Roxy Bistro inside the El Dorado in Reno many years ago. I was told to cherish every moment because my past was being carried on and handed off to the younger generation and I needed to ensure their appreciation of such lavish nights. The fourth door may have been the best thing in the world at the time, as well. When I consider my feelings in reality and compare them to that day, I can’t help but feel that everything has slid downward since. ‘The issue is what you did with the information; a dream come true.’ ‘Ah, shit.’ I guess Jennifer has stepped in for Julia. Splendid. The fourth door carried with it details of which I dreamed for years, and shortly thereafter everything melted away in reality and I was left with nothing. And then it happened again. I just kept going back to that closet door in my mind. Nothing compared for a very long time. When something came along that brought me to a similar state of mind, I somehow knew it would not last and I’d be left alone again. That is exactly what happened. Soon after, I began to formulate alternatives and on a few occasions actually ran away to control the situations and find the understanding I so desperately needed. When I passed on the other three doors, the back of my mind flipped along like yet another Rolodex full of pictures of both the past and where I felt I HAD to be. Fear kept me in place because I wished to be near that closet door again... The fourth fucking door. A dream come true? Bullshit. More like a dream that was ripped away by other people. Now it is gone. I need to get fucking crocked in this bar. I need it pretty badly. I need help, too. I may not survive this trip to the negative material plane. I may never fully understand it, either. Not good. I want to play with Jennifer’s breasts. Like most of reality, though, they are unavailable. I hope I am correct about the fourth door. I can see it, still. I can see the green. And one detail that came to mind when I entered the steakhouse is the idea that I knew of the dream even years prior to the door. I knew it, spoke of it, yet was forced to shove it to the rear in favor of what others needed. Regardless of such a process feeling unfair, there was nothing I could do about it. I would guess the number of years to be three. I found clues here and there, as well. Discussions. Evidence. I suspected that dreaming was soon going to be all I had left, and I was right. Other situations followed that fucking door throughout the proceeding years, yet they were all slightly different than the first. My mind always went back in time to the first occasion as it eventually became the reference for the meaning of life. God damn, this is completely fucked. Julia is not responding, Jennifer is but a symbol of desire (and the past), and the negative material plane is slowly swallowing my entire life, reality included. I always knew my days were numbered, yet the thought seemed far away. Now it feels as if it is waiting just around the corner. ‘I think I no longer matter.’ Indeed. Mint Julep number four; Just like the door; No more in store; All is now lore. Jennifer muddles, mixes and pours again. This gives me an idea... The hostess. I don’t know her, yet she is very familiar for some reason. Maybe she is the one that stood there when we visited Aquanox all those years ago. I feel like being reckless, and that means throwing out a line to see if I get a bite. I am apprehensive, but what is the worst that can happen? Rejection? Or will someone come flying into the restaurant and shoot me in the head again? Will any of it even fucking matter? I don’t think so. I am stuck here like always, alone and full of regret. Well, there is a ton of anger on the heels of all those memories, so maybe when I speak to her and she responds in the negative, I’ll have one less reason to care about anything in this place. Perhaps the fourth door has ruined me. Marvelous. I think I’ll sit here and analyze a while longer before taking any sort of action. I can stare at Jennifer’s wondrous form in the meantime. That’s all I ever do, anyway. Fuck it. Let’s drink. ‘You’ve already arrived.’ ‘What do you mean?’ That just fucking sucks out loud. I’ve arrived? What the fuck? I realize my analysis has hit on a few key points and possible answers, yet there still seems to be so much more. Why is that? Will I be stuck in this gulag and questioning everything for all time? Jennifer is not responding to me anymore. It’s as if I am not sitting right here on this stool. Hmm. Did my idea of hitting on the hostess cause a problem? I don’t understand. Wait a minute... Everything is quiet now. I turn to see that all of the people are gone; returning to face the bar shows me that my bartender has also disappeared. The large, open entrance facing restaurant row? Not there. I see nothing but a wall. Ah, shit. At least my Julep is still present. I suppose I am stuck in this place. Have I wished to be here for too long? No answers. Does this mean if I want the salad that I’ll have to go to the kitchen and prepare one? Ugh. I suppose this is the time for thinking and analysis. No other options are apparent. Door number four has done a number on me. That’s almost funny. I still see that closet, the view of my truck out the window, and the green... Always with the green. Mint green. Maybe I obsessed over certain details enough to cause a complex to form inside my brain that became permanent. There were earlier moments, too; details. I am speaking of something over which I used to gush, a scene dating back to before the glow. There were problems attached to the way I felt, as well. Those problems came and went throughout the ensuing decades. Did I cause them? Was it the first shit situation? The second caused long-term irreparable harm to my psyche and the way I see the world. All that hiding... From the huge issue of trying to remain behind some sort of cover no matter where life found me, all the way down to little details, such as arranging my glasses and other items on a restaurant table in order to shield my plate, food and movements from the eyes of other people. Sitting at corner tables, always facing out; retreating to the backs of rooms to remain unnoticed; arriving at every single fucking event or gathering as early as was feasible so I could get a detailed lay of the land and scope hiding places. I had to be in an advantageous position from which I could see everything and everyone, while at the same time ensuring that most could not see me. Always hiding. Always covert. Always quiet whenever possible. That was the second shit situation, and there is much more. The fourth door yielded emotions that helped to suppress the first shit situation, and from then on I saw no other way to live. The closet door and a smile; the mirror and another smile. I can only use so many words, yet the point is pretty fucking clear. The first shit caused all sorts of crap and still does. Media, the general consensus of the mainstream, the bullshit I heard every single fucking day for forty years, and the capper... The portrayal of that first shit situation as a punch line. During the mid-glow, I wanted to escape the masses and live nearly three thousand miles north of here just to be in a place where I was certain no one would want to venture. The main reason was to detach myself from the machinations that hurt people as crafted by those who tried to lift themselves. Hiding in public places? The move north could have effectively removed such a necessity. Both shit situations could have been lessened to a great degree had I left this place. I can’t be sure, yet the possibility cannot be denied. As for the door? The cost of unburdening myself from the whole of society would have had a much higher cost with regard to my well-being: The fourth door would have faded into the background of life and eventually made to disappear. Black and white, everything. In fact, had my desired move come along when I needed it most, the fourth door would never have materialized. How’s that for a paradox? Would I have missed something that never happened? The first shit situation comes to mind every single day without fail. Every. Single. Day. I was staring at Jennifer due to the same, not to mention my desire to declothe the hostess. The fourth door stemmed from it, as well. Everything which made me what I am at this very moment, all full of confusion and pain while sipping my delicious drinks grew because of a ten-minute situation so long ago. The fourth door is also indicative of a few other personality traits that have only further solidified my way of thinking after all this time. I can’t go into detail, although I am now alone here and no one can possibly hear what I may be saying, save for Julia. She has all but disappeared from the netherworld. Now I have no idea of what to do other than sit here and analyze all this shit. Splendid. I will say that this is the longest I’ve been allowed to remain in the goblet without being ripped away to some other location. Perhaps I should be thankful. Now, if I just had a companion... Silence. Only the inside of my head is making noise. I don’t even hear the bar refrigeration running. There is no more piped-in music, nor any conversation present. Nothing. This is very odd. If that fucking wall had not appeared behind me, I could wander and see what’s what. Nope. I am stuck in the restaurant. Again... I may have wished to be here too often throughout the decades. Julia made certain to give me what I wanted. Ugh. Can I go into the kitchen and find something to eat? I wish that was funny. Do I know enough at this point? Is there to be more? Have I plowed enough shit, taken enough heat and felt enough pain? No, I don’t feel sorry for myself. I am working within and this fucking situation has very little to do with anyone else that is alive. I need to pour myself another drink. Ah... Shit. I hear something. 'You cannot survive this, my love. I'm sorry, but I've done all that I am able.' 'I understand your position. Leave it alone, please.' 'As you wish. There is but one thing left for you to see.' 'Bring it.' Flash!" 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 28th, 2023 11:30am pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. Door Four read ( words) "Another fuckin’ door. Splendid. If it represents the shit from eleven-plus years ago, I have a pretty good idea of what Julia is going to throw at me, the worst of which will be that last horrible decision which was made due to a dire need for the right type of understanding, and I thought I had found it. Well, nope. I stumbled into nothing more than a wasteland of fear and paranoia. Shortly thereafter, everything went to shit and I effectively removed any possibility of a fourth opportunity prior to ever pursuing it. All the while I was unraveling just enough to be tossed to the side of the road before anything materialized. Afterward, I felt ruined. I was certain that my life was over. Door number four is pretty fucking bad and I’ve already been through enough as a result. I don’t even want to deal with it. Considering Julie and I lived through the desert, beach and mountains without a single clear answer as to why, I really don’t need any shit from Julia regarding the fact that I threw away a wonderful career months before ever applying to the firm. There was never a chance and I didn’t fucking know it until everything came crashing down on my life. There is a small part of my brain that will be forever reserved for what are now the worst lessons imaginable. Julie is around my left arm again, her head resting gently upon my shoulder. I wish I was as comfortable on the inside as the opposite. I need her, but never know when that little girl will be ripped away by the other one. I just never know. Four doors. Wonderful. I’ve been through the other three, yet the new one is looming large over the sandy beach. Wait a minute... Am I correct about the fourth door? Or was it something else, perhaps an event or situation long forgotten? I wouldn’t put it past Julia to employ a nonlinear timeline. Not at all. I can remember Steuart Street, the short interview and then the goddess across the hall (related?), a passion for the film industry nearly coming to fruition before I shoved it aside due to fear, and then an attempt to reroute my career by enrolling in college (for the fifth time). Three doors. I have to think about this because there was always desperation involved whenever I was fearful of change. What? Yep... I was desperate to find validation. I still can’t see a clear connection as to ‘why’, though. I needed what I needed and graded everything aside in order to find it. I don’t want to walk through the fourth door. I will soon have no choice, though, because whenever I am resistant to Julia’s intentions, she simply directs me wherever she feels I must go, and when. Wonderful. I am expecting more painful memories and cryptic questions. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘You can fuck right the hell off.’ ‘Not me... YOU. We are nearing the end of everything. I love you.’ What the fuck am I supposed to do with that kind of statement? Julia is pissing me off to the nth degree and there is nothing I can do about it. Not happy. At least I have the lovely little Julie for support. Without her, I’d probably be much worse off. I thought perhaps the first closet door is number four. That rhymes. ‘Number four; closet door; of it no more Three–quarter, I saw Her mane; she remained; insane The mirror; the straw The camel’s back is broken.’ I am not certain of what to think. How can that old situation relate to the others? Maybe that occasion was poignant for some reason that now escapes me; the first connection between my brain and reality. I do remember a few years prior to the closet door (the first) when I calculated that some things are simply not real because they felt so far away. The door made a difference. It also made me think about everything differently. Hmm. What could it have to do with Steuart Street? I have to figure this out before taking a step in any direction. I don’t want to end up floating again. That was not only uncomfortable, but my companion had disappeared and left me to feel very lonely. I needed her; NEED her. Maybe we can remain on the beach for a while to think. So far, Julia has been absent since arriving here again. Well, aside from her voice. I still don’t know the answers. The fourth door could be as I suspect, or I may be way the hell off the mark. I can’t know for sure right now. We shall wait. I am seeing mint green inside my head. The best part of this is Julie on my arm. She is so kind. Maybe I should request a different part of her attached to me for a little while. Would the idea get me in trouble? Probably. Nothing positive seems to happen in this place. I can still see her smiling, much like the other one so many years later. ‘Uh-huh’, and I saw a smile. Reality has proven to me that I need not wish for things anymore; the netherworld is the only aspect of life left to me in which I can ask questions. Will there be a smile? Of course not. The fourth door was the first occasion and might as well have been the last for all I care. The chair, too. That was in Sparks. There was another door but I don’t think it is relevant in this place. Other aspects of that time are very important and I am reminded of quite a few on a daily basis as I sit here and lament everything that is gone. I’ll have to keep the door in mind and continue trying to relate that period – right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow – with what I have become, and perhaps the ‘why’ will make a slight appearance. I don’t know for sure. I am going to hold Julie and think as we stroll along the beach. If the fourth door was the first occasion of asserting my dreams, why is it not number one? The first should be one, right? Let’s look at what may have been going on during the times of the other three. Steuart Street was during the same period as the closet door, but I can’t be certain of the exact year, nor can I identify which event was first. The second is supposed to be more than a decade later at my place of work. How does that relate to the way I feel each day? Something akin to the fourth door had to have been going on during the second period. That was before Laura and Maggie, too. I can’t think of what might relate to the fourth door. This is becoming very confusing. I remember where I was working and living at the time. I remember the sound engineer helped me with a bunch of information about the industry. I also recall being obsessed with memories of the glow. Maybe that first fucking period was the entire ball of wax. The closet door is merely something which stands out these days because I am so far gone. I need more information, or at least lots of time to try connecting the dots. Oh, a word just popped into my head which could be a factor. Hmm. The word seems perfectly natural most of the time, too. It can be harsh or gentle depending upon the person it is describing, but I have to say it relates to the me of the past as well as the present. I believe the closet door was the beginning of something that will never leave me. I cannot think differently, nor do I wish to push aside such dreams and continue through life as if I am not fucking desperate beyond belief. There were little occasions here and there prior to when I saw that door, but I am beginning to believe that the closet door was the very first time I felt the earliest tinge of validation. Ah... Shit. Just as I seem to be getting somewhere, the light is beginning to dim. Turning, I see that the only door still well-lit is number four, all ornate and looming. This may be when Julia forces me to go somewhere else when I really don’t want to leave here just yet. The connection I’ve made between the fourth door being something of dire importance to me both then and now needs to be analyzed and explored while the feelings are fresh. Fuck. Maybe not. Flash! Mint green; blurry. A smile, too. The door is to my left. Slam! I’ve been hit by the realization that the closet door was the beginning of a mindset that has carried through to this very second, and that is saying much because the situation I am seeing took place during the mid-glow – more than thirty years ago. The feeling has remained inside my head. What the fuck does this have to do with the goddess that was perched across the hall from the railroad office? I may never know. That was the first door, so there is no way I am going to understand why the closet door is number four. Is it supposed to be related? Too many questions. The timeline is linear, yet Julia has provided me with information to the contrary. Splendid. Crack! The door just fell to pieces and there is glass everywhere. The mint green is now dripping with red. I don’t want to see this! Shit! Outside the window where my car should be parked is the fucking gunman. How many times does this shit have to happen? What did I do? I have to get out of here. To the hallway... To the living room slider... I have to get out... Flash! Blackness for the umpteenth time. Marvelous. Julia is not currying favor right now. At least I know that the first occasion of me feeling something I so badly needed was during the glowing years. I suppose this is better than nothing. And I can go further, perhaps... I probably tried to imagine the woman across the hall at the office in similar terms. In fact, I know I did, because to this very second my feelings have not fucking changed. The God’s honest truth is that not a fucking moment passes in my life that does not have me dreaming of the precise type of understanding that I’ve needed for more than four decades. I’ve been there, too... I’ve been right in the middle of wonder, yet each occasion was fraught with disaster, fear and an unrelenting desire to end everything. Out of one type of desperation came another. Not good. And now here I am floating in null space with only a smidgen more knowledge than I had just a few moments ago. Why Julia felt it necessary to send the gunman to threaten me again I will never know because there was already a very apparent lesson taking place. Maybe each time I arrive at a realization she has to flex some fucking power. Or? Maybe he is only there to run me the hell out of one scene before something bad happens. Eh... I don’t fucking know. The gunman has always felt like death, meaning anything positive flies away upon sight. When I see him, I run, good or bad. In the passenger car? He helped me with nothing more than a series of facial expressions culminating in one very poignant nod of the head. I’ll have to think about this for a while because he could actually be pushing me away from danger. Maybe I should just give up and see what happens. I mean... Does anything I do in this place make a difference? Will Julia adjust her strategy and simply leave me alone if I begin to throw in the towel? No idea. I don’t want to be shot by that guy anymore, that’s for sure. I will say that he reminds me of the bartender in the big resort from years ago. Do you remember that one? The title of the story escapes me right now, though. Anyway, the resemblance is more of a feeling than something physical. The gunman in the passenger car was the same as the character chasing me through the resorts, and he was not as tall as the bartender. On the other hand, if my suspicion is correct, he may be trying to help me just like when I tried to blow up the past. Hmm. As long as I am going to remain in-between, I may as well hash this shit out. I have nothing better to do (nor CAN I do anything, really). I hope all this fucking mess is worth whatever comes along, be it my understanding of the way my mind has developed over the decades or the reasons why validation has become paramount in life. I really wish I did not feel this way. I also wish that some aspects of the negative material plane were not necessary for me to fully analyze all this crap. I don’t like being reminded of all I’ve done wrong, and possibly for the wrong reasons. Was it all futile effort? I am no better right now than I’ve ever been. Julia had better clarify her shit or I’m going to completely give up. My last question could be the deciding factor in every fucking part of life. That is not good. Still black. Floating. No Julie, no trains, no nothing. I don’t know what to think other than considering the significance of the fourth door. I mean... Have I even received confirmation that the closet door is indeed number four? I don’t believe so, and that means I must figure something out or hang here forever. Flashes of light... The closet door... Mirrors... Green... 'Please don’t do this!' No one is listening. To the real world we go... Monday morning. I took the drive earlier and made it back home just after 0830. Not bad. As for the hours ahead, I really don’t know what is going to happen. I have a bit of housework and laundry, so perhaps when the coffee is gone I can tackle some of that stuff and then see how I feel about anything further. The time is now 0906. I need to fly up Alyssa’s half-shirt again. Shoot me. The view reminds me of seeing Andrea’s bulging chest perched above her negligible midsection and the wondrous gradient created by the combination. The Raven, too. Her numbers were pushed to the fucking limit. Alyssa is often similar, although her clothing is vastly different. Monday has disappeared. I think the girl over whom I am goo ga (the real one who walks by every now and then) is half Asian mixed with something else. I saw her again yesterday. Thankfully, she was not wearing the creme-colored pants. They make me insane because she looks like several of the slender models I’ve displayed here in the past. Her features are very difficult to describe, so fuck it. Her appearance will not make one iota of difference in my life other than causing pain. Will I stare again? Yes. Sometimes I wish that she had been the one in my dream the other morning. Nope. The subject of the damaging dreams was there asking that beautiful, yet mysterious question. I had the opportunity to have a nice lunch yesterday after we went to the car dealer (which was a complete bust, by the way). For a short time, I began to feel some freedom and anticipation like years ago and then everything faded. No lunch. No comfortable bar/restaurant. Nothing. The excitement melted away upon returning home and I ratcheted down another small notch due to feeling anticipation in the first place. I should know better due to the statement that Julia doesn’t like... ‘Nothing good is on my horizon.’ I spent some of the afternoon working on a new light bar to mount above the workbench, and then retreated to the sofa a little while later as dinner was heating. That’s it. Very exciting. My head continued to process the idea that my life already ended and all I’ve been doing for the last few years is going through the motions in order to remain the same in others’ eyes. And yes, a little outing for lunch is a big fucking deal to me these days. Well, sometimes. There have been so many changes in the area and with businesses disappearing and cropping up as something else that I have a hell of a time trying to find somewhere to go. That’s not fucking funny, either. At some point I will not even call this area home anymore because the entirety of any resemblance will be gone for good. So much has disappeared already that driving around those old areas is completely fucking depressing. I’ll try to avoid going on at length about the town in which I grew up. That never ends well at all. Perhaps if we had located a comfortable spot, I wouldn’t feel this way right now. Today is Tuesday and I don’t have to drive or anything else. The whole day is mine for whatever I feel is best. One might believe that such a circumstance is a huge positive, right? Not so much. The time is 0800 straight up and I am already feeling lost. Marvelous. This entry is going to make about as much sense as the previous. Ugh. For reference and curiosity’s sake, I went to the Disney site to see the actual cost for a five-day trip, including hotel and park tickets. Wow. Things have changed. I have not lodged in their own hotel since I was very young and now I see why. We probably couldn’t afford the fucking place. I don’t know if I’ll ever visit that wondrous place again. The last time I was in their parks was Florida, more than twelve years ago. Even then I spent a fucking mint. Whatever. Back to reality, I guess. I haven’t mentioned the enigma in a while because that series came to an end and I don’t see her every day. Maybe it’s a good thing. The girl on the street is a different type of draw (in two ways) and being focused upon either of them causes problems that I am not equipped to handle. I feel like a small child in a massive toy/candy empire who has been told never to touch anything. Just look and then leave. Everything is disallowed. Hmm... maybe I can interpolate such a thought with the previous paragraph. Imagine traveling to the park as a young person – all wide-eyed and overcome with anticipation – and then upon entry being told that the only activity is walking around and looking at the attractions. Think about that because I feel it each time I see her. Um, which ‘her’, you ask? Any. I sit here and try to rationalize, fail at the effort, and then attempt to reconcile myself with the truth: This is all I will ever have. I will see the enigma again; the other girl will walk by again. Nothing improves. Quite the reverse. 0820. I can’t really continue the story this morning. I am not feeling the words, nor do I see any value in trying to express myself. This is all I have right now, so it will have to be enough. At some point I guess I’ll get out of here and do something else. I can take care of the housework or continue with the light bar in the garage, or maybe whatever else pops up in the meantime. Thursday. I’ve been working on the autosound articles for the last few days, hence not much here. And I don’t care, anyway. In the space of two calendar days, my position in life has dropped considerably. I am fallen again. Fallen... Away. I can’t take much more of this shit. There was something wonderful not far from me yesterday, and the sight will not leave my brain. Above and below; from one place to another; all the way in one direction and all the way in the other at the same time. Indescribable. The pain came to me almost immediately as I realized there is almost nothing left for me in this life, nor can I see a way out of the wasteland that continues to press its advantage. I will probably never leave. The condition is uncertain. The other one? There can be no uncertainty present. If they only knew. If they only fucking knew. Hence? I edited and updated the only knowledge references over which I have control. Everything else has flown away for good. She was right there and I saw everything. The gradient is still painful and there is nothing I can do about it. The tally of the word ‘nothing’ is now 5183. 0908. I have the last cup of coffee. I’ll do some housework when it’s gone. 1043. Coffee... Splashed. Cocktail... Flowing. Brain... Barbecued. I cannot achieve the balance of the PTC, meaning the day has not improved despite my completion of the routine. Well, the day is fine. Hot, but fine. My head is the part remaining unimproved. I keep thinking about what I’ve seen and the overwhelming desire to connect with such beauty, yet the knowledge that such a life cannot be for me is beginning to alter my typical comfort during weekdays when I have very few responsibilities. For example, today is like so many other days in that I have few chores to accomplish, yet the vision is pressing down upon my brain without remorse. Moreover, we are going to travel to a new restaurant part way down the coast shortly after 1430 for a late lunch, meaning I’ll be gussied up for the atmosphere (and out of respect for that type of establishment), as well as making nice the entire time. On the inside, however, the storm shall continue, and will likely result in the necessity of maintaining a delicate balance between ‘pleasant’ and ‘horribly angry’. The process will not be easy by any stretch of the word, yet the plan is in stone regardless of my needs. I will admit that part of me is looking forward to what has become one of my favorite activities – visiting a bar/restaurant – but at the same time I already know that the pain and suffering will continue unimpeded. As if all that shit is not enough to fuck up my day, the pro football discussion, general disrespect and asinine, inane commentary that took place just outside MY garage yesterday is going to cease forthwith. I am going to create and post signage dictating rigid terms for spending time in my empire regardless of whomever may feel I’ve become unfair. I just can’t deal with the onslaught of media emanating from pathetic little speakers that has become the opiate of the masses. In short, if a person wishes to visit and relax here, they will adhere to the new doctrine. If they wish to carry on much like what took place yesterday, they will Goddamn well do it elsewhere or be told to retreat past the property line. I have zero patience for those who cling to their devices and feel it necessary to stream ridiculous media in my presence. If this means I end up alone, so be it. I’d rather die as myself than bend to some fucking pathetic evolution of society which has birthed a lack of good form. Call me old fashioned. I don’t fucking care. 1228. The weather is very warm again. The heat advisory from this morning extends to tomorrow night at 2300. Wow. This October rise in temperature is pretty typical for this area, as the onshore flow often reverses, sending the warm breeze our way from the other side of the hill (from the east). I’ve become accustomed to such changes in fall. There is no worry, however, because soon enough the weather will cool and remain as such all the way into next year. The wind may be very warm right now, but at least the air is moving. I informed those who spend time in my garage that the pro football discussion will not continue. I care not for how they may feel or react. The space is mine and subject to restrictions dictated by my mood. Fuck them. From this point in time until we leave for lunch, I am at a loss as to what can be done. My mood has diminished since yesterday, meaning I’ll have to mind my tongue as the day progresses. I certainly hope whomever is our server at the restaurant does not resemble the constructs that live inside my head. The result could be very bad... It WILL be very bad. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ Why did that have to happen? Yesterday was a solid indication of my feelings, but do all of the sightings, references and wishes have to drive my subconscious in such a direction? This feels completely unfair, although dreaming during sleep is one of the largest points of contention in existence. Maybe the line of dialogue from her is a sign that I really am further gone than I had suspected months ago. I don’t need any more of that shit, either. The first few dreams were quite enough to inform me that my balance is about as far off as is possible for a human being. Moreover, what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t have a fucking clue. There has never been the word ‘can’ when it comes to her. The only positives are that it was a dream, and yesterday is a clear reminder of just how strong I can be when the alternative is death. I need her more than ever, yet with each passing day the possibility of true understanding or validation continues to shrink. The dreams are merely reminders of the depth of my need for help. And no matter how many times I try to clarify or define such states, the truth is everything causes more pain inside. I’ve recently considered the idea that I may be ‘asking’ too much – an idea that would probably light up others’ interpretations of the current period – but the truth is that the two past shit situations cannot be denied regardless of how I may come across here or anywhere else. The damage is irreversible. As an aside, I am wearing a twenty-three year old shirt that was acquired for a very special trip to Disneyland. The shirt theme for that trip was ‘defunct dot-coms’ and even included the sock puppet, of all characters. This shirt reminds me of how wide-eyed I was regarding the early possibilities and promise of the public Internet in general, and my involvement at the time in particular. I actually had hope. Friday. Yesterday was ok, I guess. Very warm. Today will probably be the last day with a high temperature, though. I’ve been working on the car audio articles quite a bit and have left this shit alone for days. No one really cares, either. My words never go anywhere unfamiliar. Lunch yesterday was very nice. No issues; good food; nice atmosphere. There was a girl helping with the tables not long before we returned home, but I didn’t really see her as a problem so much as merely a reference for last year’s alteration in the way I had been thinking. Upon arriving here, the afternoon moved along very slowly due to the heat. I spent a good portion of the time in the garage with quiet music in the background. Nothing dramatic. The sun is about to rise over the trees and force me to close the blinds. Yikes. Anyway, later this morning I have to drive across the bridge to a car dealer with two passengers. My plan is to remain quiet and off to the side during the entire process. Yesterday rather humbled me, I guess. I feel very small and ineffective this morning. Some of it is due to conversation throughout the past few days regarding my launch tube (gun barrel, if you must) and the effort in cleaning it. Sometimes I sit here or in the garage and feel that everything I’ve done in the past no longer matters. All of my technical knowledge and experience has become meaningless. Saturday morning, post drive. The time is only 0848 and I have the entire day before me. All of the work will have to be completed early, unfortunately, since the weather is still hot. I believe the mercury is scheduled to fall beginning tomorrow. The trip to the car dealer yesterday was excruciating and required several hours of time, meaning when we finally arrived home in the afternoon I was overjoyed. What a fucking pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I went along in the first place. Literally the best part of the day was something wonderful in my eyes... The form I’ve desired for more than a year. She is amazing, yet a billion miles away. I expect such occurrences from time to time, so when they come along, I already know of the difficulty and the way I must deal with all that fucking pain. On the upside, today is already a huge improvement over yesterday because I have all the time and my devices, not to mention being able to gather my thoughts when necessary. The drive earlier this morning was smooth and comfortable and I have some coffee left. Soon I will take care of the short routine and straighten the house a bit before the weather is too warm. 1144. The typical stuff is finished and I am in the middle of taking care of a few loads of laundry. Over and above the usual crap, I have a plan to disassemble my secondary garage table and store everything differently so that the new car can be parked without issue. I’ve not had a ‘new’ car for many years, and though this one is not expressly mine, I’d like to protect it as much as possible. Moreover, my next vehicle will be very special, meaning the garage needs to be in order prior to that purchase. Once I find the ideal car, the garage priority will change. For the time being, I need the garage project to help get the mass of pain and desire out of my head, or at least to minimize the damage I am feeling at this very moment. Enough of this shit. Onward. 1659, same day. I am completely miserable. Time to get the fuck away from this shit. Sunday, I see. Yay. Whoopie. I am back from the drive with coffee in hand and the entire day to do as I feel. Yesterday went bad; hence the abrupt halt during the afternoon. Something happened that had me thinking of the only way this shit can be resolved (or ended) because the little enjoyments and other distractions continue to diminish as each day burns away. I keep thinking and thinking and then realizing that there is nothing for me. Others? Oh, of course. But me? Nothing. I see, I fall, I try to recover. Little by little I am running out of reasons for being here. Yesterday was another example of my inability to understand why the world must be this way. As a result of such an occurrence, I fell a bit further away and then failed to formulate a plan for getting myself out of the mood. I certainly hope today is not a repeat. I really don’t need any more of that shit. Sideways; like yesterday. I am sideways and there does not seem to be any recourse (like always). I certainly hope that what took place is not the shape of things to come. That could be very bad. I’ll have to wait and see, I suppose, along with making the effort to create better circumstances. I hope, anyway. I was upset prior to lunch yesterday, too, which helped to push me into reckless behavior. Believe it or not, I actually feel better and more mellow this morning, so hopefully this day will remain quiet and peaceful. Despite my brain being sideways, I can still take care of business and perhaps enjoy the football game(s). The hour is early. There is plenty of time for whatever seems best. And? ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ That shit will not fade away. I keep seeing her outstretched hand over and over no matter what I may be doing. Even at the car dealer two days ago when I was staring at the salesperson with her flowing hair and dark eyes, the other girl was taking control of my thoughts and the hair and eyes faded away. She is consuming me at times, mostly right after a dream. Over time it loses clarity and I can relax a little bit. Soon enough, though, she will return to my consciousness one way or another and derail whatever I may be trying to think or do. I can’t fucking help it. I need her. I need to take that outstretched hand and let her lead me to an embrace. Why did she ask that question? And what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t get it, and even considering the sheer level of desperation I feel each and every day, that dream’s meaning still eludes. One might think that the dire nature of my thoughts drove the subconscious to manufacture something confusing and relevant, yet I still can’t be certain. I am not a dream expert by any means. I am just a tiny person sitting here trying to understand everything. Bad situation; worsening as the clock spins. Bad. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Oh, you don’t wanna know.’ Roadies. The reference reminds me of that woman from forty-plus years ago and the thoughts that spun inside my head when I realized she was employed in the world’s oldest profession. Damn. What was I to do? I wish she was standing in this fucking office right now, believe me. I could use some understanding before shit goes full-tilt. Anyway... 1133 is what I see on the clocks. My routine is finished for the day and I have a head start on the garbage business. Laundry is running, as well. I have been trying to finish anything physical before lunch for the past few days in case the weather warmed beyond my comfort level. Yesterday was cooler than the last part of the week, and today is even cooler than that. This is very good and opens up other possibilities just in case I feel like moving beyond the norm. I will soon have the house to myself, too. My team does not play until late afternoon. I prefer the midday kickoff, but must bow to the schedule and adapt to game time. The situation and feelings from yesterday are weighing heavily this morning. I am being led in a very bad direction lately, meaning my head may begin to compute information as it did years ago when I felt cornered. This is not good, people. Not. Fucking. Good. I just saw something wondrous and beautiful. Despite the fact that I don’t need to see her, these things are going to continue unless I move away from here. The likelihood of such an occurrence is dependent upon a massive fucking windfall, meaning the chance is nil. My head already manufactured a plethora of stirring, beautiful situations in a matter of seconds. Damn. Whatever. This is what my life has become. 1156 on Monday, the 9th of October. Nothing is going my way except for a few little moments spent doing something I love, beginning with yesterday’s foray into hardware organization. I don’t know where the feelings come from, but sometimes when I put my mind into something very tedious and monotonous, the world melts away and I become very relaxed. Others look upon what I’m doing and comment that they do not possess enough patience for that type of work. Aside from the organization, this day is bland. I need to relax and think for a little while. Maybe the hardware and my truck stuff can be explored later. That kind of thing always seems to relax me. Tuesday, and the first morning in sixteen which is all mine. The hour is early, I have coffee and my program, plus lots of time ahead for whatever I wish to accomplish. Regardless of feeling pretty damned good right now, the issue from last year is beginning to irritate me. No, not the dreams. Another matter, and a situation which is not good for my general attitude. Whenever I don’t understand something, I tend to focus and analyze everything and search for help. Right now, however, there is no help. I can’t talk to anyone. Well, there aren’t any ears out there, anyway, so I may as well refrain from commenting upon such an idea. This shit is going to cause my diminishing mood to fall further down and leave me even more isolated and separated from other people. I don’t feel like ‘me’ very often these days, so the problem is basically adding to such misery. The combination is going to leave me quite unpleasant. Sometimes sadness is more dangerous than anger. Sadness will press me to wish everything away. Anger causes lashing, nothing more. If everyone ends up unhappy with my company as a result of this development, all the better. I really don’t want to be around them these days. I make nice because I’ve always been nice. Change is slow and difficult. For the time being, I need to try remaining calm and considering options for how to cope with losing aspects of my life which have always been there. I counted on them, too. Always. Now I have to make some sort of change and have no idea of where to begin. I don’t want this shit to ruin my day, either. I have to be productive. Morning is typically when I feel motivated. I need to take advantage of it. Disaster, regardless of how I feel. Marvelous. The rest of the shit takes a back seat to disaster. Everything flew away and I am sad. Wednesday has taken over on the heels of a very relaxing evening, despite the troubling afternoon. I managed to move forward a bit with the organization, too. As I sit here right now, I have no clue as to how I was able to break out of the din, but it happened nonetheless. The plan from a few days ago was to work on creating small spaces so they would lead to larger spaces. So far, it’s helping. The effort will continue today as soon as I finish the coffee. The wheels turn slowly, eh? Everything feels exaggerated. Work must intrude. Now. After? The negative material plane... The gunman acknowledged my actions and seemed to support what I needed to do – as if he already knew the steps that had to be taken and fully endorsed the shot heard ‘round the netherworld. After that, he chased me. Hmm. Was he trying to help? Maybe I should try initiating a conversation with him. Or, perhaps he is a physical manifestation of Julia’s anger toward me for being such a pain. Whatever the case, he will eventually find and kill me, meaning my best option may be to speak and see if anything develops. All this crap came from my head anyway. Oh, shit... What if there is an unconscious desire to end myself and the gunman represents the same? Damn. I have to leave that one alone for the time being and find some comfort. No, not that kind. The everyday type, nothing more. Floating here after Julia showed me one blissful day from three decades ago (closet door; mint green) made me very uncomfortable because if she is correct in the assumption that I connected validation, control and desire when that scene first played out, the future is even darker than I had first thought. My head has only become more deeply embedded within such a mindset and there is no way to change it after all this time. That single thought makes me want the gunman to succeed once and for all because I do not like feeling this way every fucking day. Trust me; it’s bad. Reality and the negative material plane have bled into each other on more than one occasion, but with regard to the gunman’s power, I don’t want such an aspect of this place to cross over and kill me. Not now, anyway. If that means I’m stuck in the black gulag for more time, so be it. As angry and disillusioned as I’ve become lately, the last thing I want is that guy after me until a tear forms between worlds. Not good. I’ll just remain here and wait. Floating. I hope I don’t see that fucking door anymore. Eh... Nothing is ever up to me, be it here in the zone or reality. Even the enigma is a billion miles away (just like the other one from my dreams). I feel a question coming on soon, too. I was in the passenger car – the first one – and did my best to interpret the signs and clues and then reached out to destroy a very damaging part of my past. Well, that didn’t affect much, did it? Here I am, like always, with a massive lack of understanding and only the tiniest steps forward. The real world that I experienced yesterday was a prime example of everything pressing on my brain and causing problems that did not exist a few years ago (perhaps two?). The change I mentioned last year still plagues me no matter which fucking world I am inside. There seems to be no recourse. Why did I go through all that shit in a frozen wasteland only to have the issues return to my everyday life? What a fucking maroon. The last few train rides did not accomplish much, either. I am beginning to understand why Julia keeps throwing the damned closet door at me, yet the full meaning seems larger than what I’ve seen thus far. And the other doors... Did I bypass all those opportunities because of the two shit situations? Did the problems hold me back? The first one has definitely continued to be a source of pain and sadness. There is simply no way around that shit. But the other doors? I’ll have to dive into the first again and learn if the goddess across the hall was the beginning of my dire feelings regarding validation. I just don’t know, but if Julia reminded me of something that fucking specific, there must be more than I’ve calculated to this point. I am still floating and the reason could be that I have to remain in-between until more analysis is completed. I can’t see it another way right now. Flash! Shit. Desert. Sand. Heat. Wind. How many fucking times have I been dropped here? There is something to the north, like most of the time. I see a structure again. And? I suppose Julia is finished with me floating in the negative space while analyzing everything which has taken place so far. I thought I was getting somewhere regarding the gunman. He might have been helping; he may have been trying to do Julia’s bidding by keeping me upright and alert during those mysterious times. I don’t know and may never thanks to being dumped here again. I guess I’ll fucking walk north and think for a while. I was in the desert long ago. That story of the past never ended, either. Everything just dropped off a few years ago and sits idle. What was I thinking? We blew up the hotel. Jaime was there for a while with her ever-changing, mood eye color and I loved being near that machine. I was chased by the gunman and the dragon. I remember the tall bartender and our quiet conversation. And then? Julie and I died over and over and fucking over until I was sick and tired of being put down like a common criminal. Then? Doors and sand; mountains and beaches; train after train. I’ve made progress, too. I really have. I understand how my thinking has become so horribly skewed, and I can see the way my obsession with the female form distorted and exaggerated itself until I fell into a pit of despair. Combined with feeling so desperate for understanding, those conditions have sent me so far off center that I can barely understand myself anymore. Julia has really done a number on me this time. Moreover, the three doors that represent my loss of potential and the way I steered myself in the direction of a very specific type of comfort rather than looking to the future are clearer now than weeks ago. As for the first three doors, I can now see how all that fear developed. It relates to the second shit situation; the fourth door caused me to realize just how important validation was to me (growing over time, as well) after suffering for years at the hands of the first shit situation. The closet door was idyllic – more or less, and according to what I knew and felt at the time – and as time passed through and beyond the glow, my head computed importance in life and quickly prioritized everything. Those priorities remain to this very second and have effectively removed any possibility of happiness. ‘You know.’ ‘Leave me the fuck alone, woman.’ ‘Find your destination, my dear.’ ‘I have nothing else left.’ Hasn’t Julia already hammered her point home? Have I not learned? Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I’ve connected the painful dots, I’ve related the doors, and I know exactly what I’ve become. There can no longer be any doubt of how I arrived here, either. No more questions. Part was my doing, and the rest was that of other people. They are all gone from the earth. I remain. I am between two positions right now. One is to continue living the way I have and push off concerns over external events; the other is the military mindset which has begun to tell me that there is little point in planning further than the end of each calendar day. As the discomfort continues to plague my mind and heart, I am seeing just how small and ineffective I’ve become in this life. Perhaps the negative material plane is all I have left. I guess I’ll keep walking until I learn of what lies in the distance. I suspect there is another resort. I wish I could visit one in reality. ‘I love you.’ ‘You can fuck right off.’ ‘As you wish.’ I can’t fucking trust that she will leave me alone anymore. Nothing has fully played out; interruptions seem to be the norm whenever I am placed somewhere rife with lessons. I’ve seen dioramas of the past, flashes and imagery from many years ago that were injected into my brain rather than appearing within actual sight, and have been almost continually questioned as to the meaning of the doors. Well, I put that shit to bed right quick – including the realization that door number four shaped me into what I am at this very moment – and see no reason for anything further to be dropped in my path. Shit situation one removed much of my potential enjoyment in life before it ever got off the ground whilst simultaneously causing more physical pain that one person should endure, and shit situation two removed my ability to fully connect with and trust other people. That was the point in life when I began to close myself off and hide as often as possible. My routes for walking to school or stores changed dramatically and I spoke with myself daily. The feelings which developed as a result of shit two also forced me to believe I would always be alone. I avoided all three doors due to fear, and shying away from any change was a direct result of my endless, fruitless fucking search for understanding. There it is. Along such lines, if the lovely little Julie appears again, I am going to jump her shit in a hot second. That would likely be my last chance to be exactly where I’ve needed for decades. Marvelous. And when I say 'need', I am lacing that word with more power than anything else in the fucking universe. The structure is taking shape, albeit a touch hazy from this distance. Something is flashing on the roof, if my eyes are not deceiving me. I can’t see very much yet. I certainly hope it is not the topper that was on Hotel Dracorum. Oy... That could be very bad seeing as last time I was chased around and forced to destroy the dragon in order to survive. At least I had the lovely Jaime at my side (and I at hers). ‘You are the king of your little castle.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘Embrace what you can.’ I have no idea what she means with that crap. My castle? Is Julia referring to the house or garage? I am in the fucking desert and can’t be concerned with reality when my future here is uncertain. The resort is massive and clearing quickly as I progress across the sand. There are gates, much like the very first hotel I ran across years ago. Everything inside that place was crazy, if you recall. Repeating the situation is not something to which I look forward, if this resort is the same. Hopefully I can get inside, cool off and clean myself to look loyally for the club, and then relax with a drink. Usually once I get comfortable, Julie pulls me out and sends me elsewhere. I hate that. Never enough time to think about the current state before it is changed. Oh, shit. The hotel is not as it was before. I am looking at the south side of the Venetian. Wow. Maybe Ellie is working at the bar and I can get a hug. Not likely. Such thinking is rather like hoping to find understanding in real life. Heh. Laugh it up. At least if nothing is out of order I can be cool and comfortable for a little while. ‘Proceed.’ ‘Yeah. Like I have much of a choice right now.’ ‘Go.’ ‘Piss off, woman. Please.’ Silence again. At least I am not floating anymore. That can be very uncomfortable. In my head, mostly. The other adventures through which I have been forced to endure are interactive, whereas the blackness of being in-between is akin to gulag. I suppose I should be thankful. The Venetian... A resort fraught with memories, both good and bad. There was supposed to be a beginning at the Venetian, but it turned into the beginning of the end. The occasion was right on the heels of some big life changes that year, too. Everything seemed fine until I destroyed it. No door there, for sure. I am hoping that the resort is as it was twelve years ago, a time when First Food & Bar existed, as well as a few other very cozy places in which to sink and think. I could use some of them right now. Fingers crossed. Holy shit, everything is in place right down to the bridge, clock tower and moat. I thought I would never see this place again... The location where Andrea and I spent so much time; connecting with Eleanor and learning that there are people who have zero restrictions with respect to whom they care about deeply; the fateful, beautiful in-between period when I thought everything was going to be ok. In reality? The situation created problems inside my head and eventually ran into a buffer stop and exploded. This resort has seen me many times. Some of those visits were actually good. I remember standing in awe of the passageway between the Venetian and Palazzo casinos, as well as being in front of the resort at eleven at night when the temperature was nearly ninety degrees and the entire strip was lit like Christmas. That occasion went to shit, too. The memories are all over the place right now. Stepping into one of the most beautiful, dynamic resorts I’ve ever visited will go one of two ways... All the way up or all the fucking way down. I expect nothing good aside from perhaps a few minutes’ rest with a cool drink. Ashley just popped into my head. Not good. She and I never visited the Venetian. Well, there is the big, scary dragon sitting atop the central roof structure. Wonderful. I hope he (she?) leaves me the hell alone. The massive creature is the only aspect of this resort that seems out of place. Everything else is as it was the last time I was here, four years ago. Through the doors and down the escalator I go, consequences be damned. I need comfort for crying out loud. The casino floor is... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off already.’ Damn. I can’t even think of the Asian restaurant or First without being interrupted by that damned woman. No, I have no idea what I ‘have to do’. Flash! Nightfall just took over in a split second. Wow. I wonder why such a change is necessary. Is it? Is anything going to be different at night? Um... Yep. I just remembered that the atmosphere inside the TAO Bistro which resides just below First changes after the dinner hour. Much like Rumjungle, the venue turns into a club and ends up crawling with gorgeous Asian hostesses and dancers. Shit. I never visited the restaurant, day or night but I’ve peeked inside a few times. Why the change in light? Am I supposed to see something? I’d rather go upstairs and see if the kitten is working. The idea is most unlikely, yet I feel compelled to find out the truth. I don’t want to see all sorts of exotic women gyrating all over the place. I spin on my heel and head back up to hit the second lift and stroll to the northwest corner and one of my favorite places in the world, First Food & Bar (of course, it is gone now like everything else that I’ve loved, but this resort is in a different world and far from reality). Nope. What am I seeing, you ask? Something called ‘Buddy V’s Ristorante’. Splendid. I believe the restaurant is the newest incarnation in that location. Damn shit fuck, anyway. Vegas changes so quickly sometimes that it makes my fucking head spin. Anyway, since First is no longer there (on this plane), I suppose I’ll head toward the main casino and find something comfortable. Hopefully, Double Helix is still in operation. That was always a good sink-in type of bar. The people around me look like vacationing robots. Heh. Perhaps I was the same years ago. I wish Julie was here with me right now. Or? Jaime and her unnaturally huge eyes. Either would be fine. I am alone, although if you consider the sheer number of occasions that I found myself in Vegas solo, one might believe I will be fine. Nope. I need something comforting, and there is nothing in either world more heartwarming than a loving companion. A person off of which I can bounce thoughts and ideas has always been a goal. I arrived in this town alone many times but never remained as such for very long. I always needed a very specific type of connection while within the machinery of this town, and the present is no different. I hope this doesn’t affect my ability to interpret Julia’s lessons. I am lonely. One destination just popped into my head, and since nightfall came along without warning, the restaurant is probably open. Whatever the actual time, Julia forced the night to arrive early. Yep... The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. At least the bar is cozy in that wonderful place. The dining room would be inappropriate for a single patron, but the bar would definitely not. If there is time, I can relax with my favorite cocktail (or three) and analyze the meaning of the doors. I’ve already solved the fourth door and the way it related to the shit situations, but the other three still need to be further hashed out and understood. I have to know for sure. Thankfully, restaurant row is a short walk. On the downside, the path to the same is full of memories, good and bad. There it is. I even see Jennifer behind the bar just like after I heard Andrea’s booties clicking their way out of my life. I very nearly died that night. To the bar, and one of the very few locations on this fucking planet where I am completely comfortable. Yes. ‘Welcome.’ ‘You look beautiful, like always.’ ‘Do we know each other?’ ‘Not really. A Maker’s Mint Julep... Please.’ ‘You got it.’ How long am I going to be allowed to remain here before everything is ripped away again? No idea. The plan right now is to sit here and get half lubricated in order to more easily deal with Julia’s shit. I’ve already seen a plethora of reminders of the fourth door and do not need to see anything further. My mind can take only so much of that beautiful day. I already know what it means and the effect it has had on the way I see the world. ‘You don’t wanna know.’ The layout is different than I recall, even after the most recent visit four years ago. I’ve dined here with four different women over a very long period of time and now find myself alone again. I could use some company, even a machine. Julia is not allowing anything right now, though. Jennifer is working and probably can’t sit with me as I unload a trainload of crap. Eh... She’s better off avoiding anything beyond superficial conversation, anyway. I am a syndrome just like during the past in reality. Vegas has a way of injecting memories both good and bad, this restaurant being both. The mixture of different time periods in this netherworld may serve to confuse me, as well. I’ll have to think clearly if I am to ever get out of here. ‘Another one?’ ‘Please, my dear. I may sit here for a while.’ ‘Whatever you wish, love.’ Oy. That word again. Remembering Andrea’s big, beautiful eyes looking into mine when she employed that endearing term is not going to help my situation. Maybe I should do something strange and see if there is any semblance of reality in this odd place. Up... Down... Up again... Then down further. What is this? A daily rollercoaster just to keep me thinking? Well, I do not like it at all. Understanding my current condition and the way I developed after the fourth door is not happening very quickly, and the deeper I attempt to consider these circumstances the further from knowing I flow. There have been connections (partly thanks to Julia and what she has forced me to recall), yet the full meaning still somewhat eludes because it is so fucking complicated. I am sliding in and out of a mental and emotional cave fraught with damning thoughts and the dark caresses of death. The time spent outside that space forces me to peer in and try to see the meaning behind the lack of light. So confusing. Thank God I am in Vegas again. This is better than nothing. Sitting within the sumptuous Double Helix with notepad and cognac did not assist me all those years ago. Lounging throughout First Food & Bar with its enormous windows overlooking Vegas Boulevard combined with a beautifully sculpted and delightfully discreet bartender served to help for a time, but in the end solitude took over my consciousness and drove me from the large windows with fright. That was reality. This is not. Such a reaction and my resulting behavior were inevitable, of course. Many a night has been spent yearning and searching for the very special comfort which has eluded me for years. When I feel I am moving in such a direction, nothing can slow me. Nothing. Before running out the door of First Food & Bar so many years ago, I spoke to the bartender at length since she was not busy and I was damned-near the only person in the entire lounge. Our conversation started on the surface – as I would imagine most do – but quickly became much more thanks to my penchant for candid conversation. I find that babbling about the usual tourist interests is shallow, hollow, and annoying to those who hear it day after day. Instead, we spoke about need, desire, emptiness, and fulfillment. Her insight was astounding and I would imagine it grew from years of discussing any number of topics with those never seen before and never to be seen again. Some travelers seek much more than food, drink, and the possibility of monetary and carnal satisfaction, yet my current circumstance has found me searching for the root causes of my obsession and other dire needs that I have not been able to live without. I should have stayed much longer that night, though. The girl was the epitome of a Vegas confidante, I tell you. She was art to the nth degree. Mercy. I wish the restaurant in question was still there. She may have been able to help with this door. For now, I shall sit here, gaze at Jennifer’s gorgeous form and flowing hair, and drink myself until something changes. Perhaps I can have something to eat if my tongue loosens too much. I would rather wrap my mouth around Jennifer’s labia, but I suppose a Caesar and some bread will have to suffice in this netherworld. I mentioned doing something strange but fear is holding me back. I don’t want Julia pulling me out of this fucking resort. I need it right now. Bad. The barstool and huge mirror over the bar are allowing a view of patrons darting this way and that, the Spanish beauty (along with her olive-skinned cleavage) gracing the kiosk, and is helping to keep me from the prying eyes of the masses. This cozy corner is succeeding in providing a temporary feeling of comfort and belonging. In the end, however (and as expected), I already know all of it will melt into a haze of smoke, alcohol, and longing. Just another middle-aged wreck searching for comfort. This town is my sanctuary. Blending and disappearing in plain sight are so simple to achieve and so necessary that any explanation will fall short of the mark. The heat keeps the mind sharp and driven toward any set of doors. The towering plush invites one with a draw unequaled in other locations. Plush for the mind, body... Soul? Maybe. Mind and body for sure. That plush is deep in me and required from time to time in order to survive this life. I need it as I need nothing else. However long I last at this bar... Well, I have no idea. This creation is the work of someone else. Part of me, yet not. I mentioned the summer heat of Vegas and the doors... Those doors are not only able to cool and comfort, they may be able to save me. Perhaps one of these days they will. I may need more help than Julia can provide. Reality? Sure... Fuck it. Thursday morning is here and my little, distorted world is in full swing. I see he is going ‘over there’. Well, probably, anyway. I don’t have an ‘over there’ any longer. Not for years. And I know why the former is likely taking place. I’ll have to stop thinking about it or today will be shot to hell. I can’t have that right now. I just can’t. At some point this morning I need to take a drive to the wine store to pick up an order, meaning I’ll have to be fairly organized with my time. I do not wish to be on the other side of the hill when the restaurants are open because there will be too many cars all over the place. That makes me uncomfortable. Shortly I will take care of half the routine so my arrival after the drive will be rewarding. Yesterday I came up with a plan to reconfigure the garage (large items), and working toward such a goal is going to take priority over other concerns. The idea is going to entail moving my huge tool box, one shelving unit, the freezer and my table, the latter having been in the center of the space for the last few years. This process will take time and requires that I empty and defrost the freezer. That is something that’s been waiting for us to use much of the stored food. I’ve also been filling empty freezer space with bottles of tap water to ensure that it remains very efficient. Part of the process for relocating the table began yesterday, too. The electrical lines and boxes have been removed from the center of the garage and reconfigured to be much neater. I also began disassembling the ‘housing’ that’s mounted on the table so it’s more usable once it reaches the new location. I envision the project will take more than a week and I’d like to have it finished prior to Halloween. I’ve decided to head over to the wine store now. Returning home will feel really good and I could use some of that today. 1000, straight up. The pickup has been completed without issues of any kind. I was in and out of the store at a good time. As predicted, arriving home again feels very nice. Time to organize everything and then head to the garage. The arrival of Friday has taken place sans fanfare for the common webmaster. What does this mean, you ask? Nothing good is on my horizon. That time has passed. There have been many years in between. Hmm... In-between. Will that shit ever end? Oh, and I was wrong about yesterday morning. He was not going ‘over there’. The destination was elsewhere. I don’t have any destinations anymore. I just sit here. I am beginning to think that the entire negative material plane affair is nothing more than a motivational tool to get me to alter my outlook to something more positive. I don’t see any sort of change happening in the future, however, because the shitty aspects of life and loss continue to pile with the passage of time and no one can stop them. The ‘good’ has already ceased. All I can do is tread water and embrace the little things while they still have the power to lift me ever so slightly. Another dream early this morning served as an additional reminder that the understanding does not exist. There was a really nice embrace, though. Really nice. There should have been three in total, but something went wrong in that dream world and two disappeared. Whatever. Yesterday I went a bit further with the garage work and will probably continue later this morning if the mood strikes. My toolbox is now out of the way so the table can be relocated against the east wall and I cleaned up the wiring a bit. I’ll have to think about the next steps for a while before diving in because once the table is in its new home, I will not have easy access to the wall behind. The toolbox was actually much easier to move than I had originally thought. Not bad considering it weights upward of half a ton. Interesting, eh? This is my life. I’ll be pleased once the table is relocated. Hopefully the satisfaction is enough to keep me going for a while longer. I need to push against all of the bad things that live in my head. Monday has rolled around again and part of me is overjoyed to be here right now, especially after missing a few days of concentration at the editor. The weekends usually entail driving to the City, meaning my mornings are disrupted. This morning has arrived just in time to keep me upright a little while longer. I need the peace and quiet of being here alone so badly that one more day of garage work or driving may have caused a blown gasket. The upside of all that shit is my garage is in much better shape for the effort. The fourth door hit me in the fucking face yesterday during the football game and represents the worst of the downside. Ever since beginning this latest, lamenting installment of the continuing story of the doors, I’ve been grating against Julia’s inference regarding the closet door, the way I think (to this very second) as it relates to that fateful day, and the idea that I’ve never been able to rise above the shit situations due to weakness. The closet door has become king of the fucking hill. Splendid. It hit me in the face yesterday because the more I try to distract myself from reality, the stronger those feelings become. The bottom of the whole shitaree is me nearly doubling over while maintaining a facade that weighs more than this fucking house. I am exhausted, so thank Christ there are several hours ahead for me to analyze. God damn does Alyssa have some breasts. Geez. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ I wish I had a single fucking clue as to what she meant. That dream was full of emotion, whereas the previous issues and scenes were driven mostly by desire. Well, there was the occasion in which she held me and I felt that the bad was finally going to go away. That was just a quick flash, though. When she stood on the landing and reached for me, the duration of the scene was much longer. I still can’t believe it, either. Stirring. ‘...while we still can’ is one of those lines I am going to chew for the rest of my life. Reality will never explain it to me. No fucking way. As always, and with everything else causing me to shovel shit against the tide, there is no recourse. None. I have to lump it. There is no more ‘like’, as well. Nothing good is on my horizon. Oh, everything is out there – somewhere – yet none of it is for me. I already know. What keeps me sitting in this chair day after day is beyond my comprehension, to be honest, and when combined with the beauty of her reaching for me and uttering those words, I am surprised to be doing ANYTHING at all. I just don’t know. The weekend was very productive regarding my garage. Everything along the back wall is in place and the only step left in that area is to empty the storage rack so it can be properly leveled. The big table is in place, too. I have yet to raise it because organization must come first. I am going to empty the cabinet that I inherited from my neighbor last year and get rid of it so the freezer can live in the same place. The old cabinet will return to the chimney, as well. I am much further along than I had thought possible in such a short amount of time. This is good. If I can get all the shit out of my head later this morning, perhaps the day can be productive. I need more ‘up’ and less ‘down’, for crying out loud. The garage is capable of providing only so much enjoyment before the past takes over and leaves me sans strength. I don’t want any more of that shit right now. Too much fucking pain. God damn, Holly is so cute sometimes. 0901. I have yet to do anything aside from sitting here thinking and typing. My show is playing on the right-hand display, as always. Once the coffee is gone I’ll move to the housework and then maybe the garage. Now that the process of rework has begun, I can dive into anything related, and that means items which can be donated or tossed, as well as moving the heavier stored crap forward to be replaced with the lighter items. That will facilitate the removal of the center column that I installed a few years ago. It’s funny how my mind has changed over time. Anyway, I’ll be into the housework very soon. Reconfiguring the garage is very tiring, but I know once everything is in place it will shine. I had another dream about her. It was very different from the previous occasion. She was different, too, yet I don’t know how to describe the feelings or what I was seeing right next to me. And were we ever close... Right there whispering into each others’ ears. Something had been going on and I think I was trying to help. Aside from that, I really can’t recall anything. Being close to her is amazing. Too bad it will never be real. Today is Tuesday and I am overjoyed to have several hours ahead for whatever I wish to do. Yesterday went as I had hoped in that I switched the heavier items for lighter stuff on the upper shelves. Once completed to my satisfaction, I went further and emptied the shelving unit on the back wall, leveled it, and then returned most of the stuff to the shelves. Overall I’ve created a bunch of space, not the least of which is a mass of things that will be picked up by the donation center next Monday. The process took hours, although the benefits are knowing where everything is located, having all of the holiday stuff at the ready, and the ability to remove the center post (which was to be the most difficult operation of the entire affair). I may not do much out there today because I don’t feel very well about life and have no wish to expose myself to other people right now. Moreover, the dream from early this morning is affecting my outlook, like always. I don’t see anything good happening, ever, and eventually this mindset will bleed into the way I communicate. Good or bad as it may be, I have to remain mindful. I have laundry to wash, too, so I’ll have to go out there in a little while and ensure there is adequate space for the clothes. The fog outside is thicker than pea soup right now. Visibility just south of here was reported as only a few hundred feet. Ugh. Cool weather is good for working around the house, though. I’ll have to get away from this infernal machine and take care of a few things very soon. I pulled apart the lighted base for my three huge vodka bottles prior to closing the garage for the evening yesterday with the intention of adding a few strips of light and ensuring that the assembly will sit level when I install the shelf. Maybe I can get it back together while washing clothes. I’m not in the mood to see people, so once I transition to the laundry and related organization, the door will be closed. No one listens to anything I say, so I see little reason to be near them anymore. Yesterday was a prime example of the way I am ignored and/or disregarded, and as I’ve stated on many occasions, if I am made to feel unimportant, the way I treat other people becomes very harsh and unwelcomed. The process is happening as I type these words. The negative material plane does not count, either. That place is different. Reality is paramount much of the time because I must deal with it regardless of the pitfalls. ‘If she was there, I’d go, too. I would go over there just like the way I see things playing out sometimes in reality. I would go to her every day if circumstances allowed for such behavior. I see it. I know what is going on. I know all of it, really. Unfortunately, there is nothing over there for yours truly. Bereft. Weak. Angry. But? I would go there. And? I would go much further for her.’ Wednesday. All of the usual crap is in place. Coffee... Whatever. I am tired. I went a bit further with the garage reorganization yesterday. The cabinet is outside on the driveway, empty. I am going to empty and defrost the freezer later this morning and then move it to its new location. The small mural is already in place, too. I have to fabricate a unique shelf for holding stuff above the mural and freezer. Everything is in pretty good order after making space for laundry, so today I won’t have to go crazy trying to get everything in order. ‘I was there. No, not the same location mentioned above, but elsewhere. I was exactly where I so badly needed to be, and the wonder took over. I thought of Ashley, too. I always thought of that girl when I was in such a place, and the day in question was one for the ages. I turned half my life upside down, escaped everything and everyone, and shut off communication in order to find that place. I was right fucking there and will never forget it. And? That was the second occasion. A line from the first... ‘I knew it’. I did know. The information was right before my eyes prior to that horrible day. I went over there and knew of the consequences. I also knew that the fourth door was the reason. Unfortunately, I did not put two and two together for many years. Now everything is gone. I should have remained at that precise location for as long as possible and then slammed the door on life. Regret... One of the two thieves that have robbed me of a future. The other is fear.’ 1116. I successfully completed the daily routine and went through both of the vanity drawers. I haven’t reorganized that stuff for years, so the result is not only everything in good order, but more room in the hall closet. I’d like to clear at least one shelf in there so the sheets can be stored. The process will take time, much like reconfiguring one of my cabinets in the dining room. There are items which will be donated next Monday, too. I’ll have to get into the cabinet and see what develops. I absolutely LOVE creating more space in the house. It leads to space in the garage, which, in turn, yields even more storage possibilities inside. I did a bit of research and learned that the first appearance of the word ‘nothing’ within the site was March 6th, 2002. The previous sentence contains appearance number 5209. Just a thought. Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. He would have been 83. Yesterday was also the 34th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake. So sad. I remember my grandfather was on the phone with his brother-in-law who lived in Newport Beach at the time. As my grandfather looked out the dining room window, he exclaimed, ‘Ricky’s car is about to jump off the street and onto the lawn! It’s the big one!”. I will never forget that day. The world needs a gigantic toilet flush. People just don’t fucking learn, ever. I’d press the handle but my power has been removed by other people. My power is gone for good. Thursday, I see. Just like nineteen years ago; I saw. Never mind. The hour is early as of yet, just 0810. I have the bulk of the day to myself. After yesterday’s progress in the garage, I may lay off some of the work today due to the weather (again). The temperature outside is already more than ten degrees above the ambient inside. That means there will be plenty of heat later. I will not work in that shit. I have plenty to do inside the house, anyway. As for yesterday, well... There was wonder and beauty, neither of which had much to do with me. I lived through yet another fucking situation in which I was exposed to beautiful things for a while only to be expelled out the other side secure in the knowledge that there is no longer any ‘good’ on the horizon. All I will experience is that of other people, mostly at a distance. Afterward I will retreat, fall on my stupid face, and attempt to find some enjoyment. Sometimes I am closer than others. The end result never changes, however. It is ‘the way of things’, and the damage is cumulative. Trust me... All is burning away. The donation people are coming in four days. I have most of the items ready to go and will add a few here and there as the days pass. I am overjoyed to see the garage sans columns and nearly wide-open through the center. My neighbor informed me last night that the motorcycle, extra parts and spare engine can all go back into his garage anytime. That is fucking excellent. Between that stuff and the donations, my space is going to be very clear. Always in the background, I am going in circles. Only the real space benefits, not my head. Nothing is over. The train cannot stop, ever. I will work out there today despite the lingering negatives, disastrous situations which leave me heartbroken, and lack of future promise. The way I see it, if my life is going to be so thin, I may as well be as comfortable as possible. When the coffee is gone, I’m going to empty and defrost the chest freezer. Forward progress is never bad. ‘The most beautiful girl in the world picks my ties out; eats my candy, drinks my brandy.’ Hmm... Indeed. Where the hell is she? 1125. My routine is finished and I pulled all of the water bottles out of the chest freezer. A few more items made their way into the kitchen, too. I am very close to defrosting the unit and starting from scratch. All of the water bottles will rest at the bottom so any food does not reach down so far. Once everything is in place – including moving the freezer to its new location – I’ll fire it up and await refilling the top half. Moving it across the garage will allow me to place the wooden shelving unit against the chimney where it previously lived. The west and south walls will be in good order, finally. After Monday, the amount of empty space in the garage will be amazing. Donations... Gone. Motorcycle and boxes of parts... Gone. Motorcycle lift... Gone. I am looking forward to seeing the entire weeks-long project come to a close. Curious; three years ago I was all-in for making the garage a second office and work space at the same time with no aspirations of parking in there, whereas now I want the entire center area clear. I will never be able to build the trike, however the space will be available just in case something good actually comes along in my life. For some reason, I’ve been fairly uncomfortable (physically) throughout most of the morning. I don’t know what brought on this anxiety, but to deal with it I poured a nice cocktail. In addition, at some point while doing my housework, a movement seems to have affected my back. Insult to injury, and all that shit. You know. I really don’t need any more fucking problems, so I guess I’ll sit here and relax for a while before heading in another direction. The house is still cool and comfortable. One of these days I’ll have to get the hell out of here for a little while. I think about going somewhere when I see cars drive by. The electronics store is gone, a few of my favorite lunch spots are gone, so finding a direction is more difficult than ever. 1300, straight up. I slid the freezer a little bit to see if removing all of the water bottles helped enough for me to relocate it without tipping. As long as the unit remains upright, it will not have to sit for a day to normalize. I’d prefer to power it up as soon as possible. Maybe when my drink is gone I’ll head out there and slide the fucker across the floor and disconnect the power. I need to French kiss Holly’s labia for an entire day. Splendid. Shoot me. I don’t care. External forces created the way I think these days. Blame them. Anyway, if I can slide the unit fairly easily, the move will allow the wood cabinet to be placed back where it was at the foot of the chimney. The temperature out there is not as high as I would have thought when the sun rose this morning, so moving a few things around the garage might be easier than I’d predicted. Maybe the breeze is helping. Moreover, one upside to this day is that I saw the au pair in her jeans moments ago and felt absolutely nothing. She must have been no more than a phase. This is very good. The more I obsess over what I see, the closer I come to the end of the world. Less is more, as it were. As for the weather, I’m sure this will be one of those days in which the house warms for a few hours and then ends up much warmer than outside. As long as the air is moving, all will be fine. I am really looking forward to preparing dinner with my friends in the background, too. Regardless of whatever heat may develop inside, I am going to embrace the evening. I need it. Good things are happening to the house and garage, and I simply MUST appreciate all of them. Dinner and my show later are no different. I’ll head to the empire very soon. Moving back and forth between the negative material plane and reality would seem to be my destiny. Isn’t that just fucking peachy? I am half a person, or less. Ugh. Holly shares the facial trait that drives me up the fucking wall. I still can’t explain it. Maybe there is no such explanation. And maybe I can’t follow a single line of thinking without being continually distracted by beauty. As I said... Peachy. Half. Broken. Waiting. Friday morning, 0801. Coffee. Sideways. Nothing is going to happen here today. Saturday morning, 0845. Coffee. Sideways. The drive came and went without issue. Oh, there was the typical contingent of wing-nut drivers, but overall I arrived at the destination and then exited the city sans problems. I am overjoyed to be home again. The daily routine will be started a bit earlier than usual because there is a college game starting soon and I am concerned about the outcome and the way it may affect my team later in the season. My pro game is not on until Monday night, so tomorrow I’ll be relegated to watching some other games as I pass the time and do my housework. The weather is again very cool and will help as I continue the new garage configuration. I am rather looking forward to Monday when the donations are picked up. That’s going to leave a big hole in the center of the floor. As for the freezer, there are only a handful of items left. I should be able to pull the plug today and then finish the project tomorrow. There are college cheerleaders in yoga pants on the right-hand display. This shit just never ends. There will always be something pressing me down. 1038. All of my usual morning work is finished and I moved a few things around in the garage in order to make room for dry cleaning. I also have one load of laundry to do. Aside from housework, there are still three lighted strips that need to be connected. After reconfiguring the garage, I had to move some of my displays and have yet to hook up power. I’m considering running a trunk line around the top perimeter just in case things are added later, plus the existing connections can be tied to the trunk so everything is a bit cleaner. Writing about the goblet causes my heart to run through the gamut of emotions, from those desperate, suicidal ideation-laden dashes to the warmth and comfort of knowing I could escape the norm and disappear into a gigantic, money-driven machine and become no one. I feel happy and sad at the same time. On the heels of those two, there is another, more depressing realization that I may never be where I need again in this life. Too much has changed, mostly me. The fact that restaurants that I loved for many years continue to disappear is very sad, but the processes inside me are vastly worse. I fear that if I visit that wondrous town in the future, my perception of everything will be so skewed that I may not find the necessary comfort that seemed so easy in the past. This is not good, people. A pair of very well-dressed Jehovah’s Witnesses visited a few minutes ago, and despite the appearance of a nearly four-foot pentagram on display inside my garage, they were very pleasant and welcoming. Unbelievable. I am always polite and pleasant toward those who move from one door to the next with the intention of gathering souls into the fold, but I must admit that inside my head were carnal thoughts that cannot see the light of day. Even the older woman who read scripture to me, believe it or not. I was attracted to her adorable smile and smooth skin. Such thinking has clearly informed me that the path they try to steer others toward is now completely alien to me. I have no reason to be impolite or unpleasant, so I try to listen and then gently shut down the conversation to avoid wasting their time. The process may cost me a few minutes, but I honestly believe that being pleasant toward them is the right thing to do. I have all the time in the world these days. 'When evolution selects its agents, it does so at a cost; it makes demands in exchange for singularity. And you may be asked to do something against your very nature. Suddenly, the change in your life that should have been wonderful comes as a betrayal. It may seem cruel that the goal is nothing more than self-preservation; survival.' Another day has gone by. Today is Sunday and I am back from a very quick morning drive. The alternate route north through the City paid off and shaved a few minutes off the overall trip. That was nice. Now I have the entire day to myself. In other matters, I awakened today to learn that the infernal Internet was down, and still is. My control center is operating via the phone like the last time this happened. I received a message from the provider informing me that they are dealing with the problem. Okay. I have no choice in the matter, so whatever works, I guess. Monday morning has come around yet again in the rotation. This is the 182nd Monday since I stopped working full-time. Very interesting. The enigma has been in my head for a while due to a program I watched yesterday afternoon. I saw similar lines, although the girl was not as tall as the original. Sometimes the enigma enters my head due to some errant reference, and then I can’t fucking get her to leave. The donations should be picked up sometime today (prior to two this afternoon), and my concentration should lie within my ever-improving garage. She has thrown a wrench into the machinery yet again, and I don’t know if my day is going to end up fully derailed or not. The woman is so incredible to see that one glimpse or thought can drive me completely insane. I don’t like the way the obsession affects me these days. I have recently realized that as time passes, my sense of beauty continues to distort, meaning there are less and less forms which stir me right now than in the past. I don’t know what I can do about this shit, either. Everything fucking hurts because they are out there and I am right here, presumably for the rest of my miserable life. I can’t be close to them at all. At some point this morning I will finish the coffee and then work around the house. I need her the hell out of my brain if I am to accomplish any semblance of work. 1117, same day. The donations have been picked up and I am overjoyed to have seen everything go where it is needed. Anything donated to that organization helps needy families, mostly those that have children with disabilities. I will be scheduling another date to have more household items picked up, too. The empty space in the garage provides equal satisfaction. Next will be the motorcycle and related materials. Once finished, the center of the garage will be completely void of any clutter. Along that line of thinking, after everything disappeared this morning, I relocated the bike to clear space near my workbench. This is a wonderful change regardless of whether or not the car ends up parked inside. Dry weather means it will live outside most of the time. The massive shift in the way my garage appears is very important for the nighttime atmosphere, with everything along the back wall visible and illuminated at night. Moreover, during the day I need not worry about whomever may approach the house because the messages on that wall clearly convey the idea that I am not a person with whom to be trifled. This is very good and a state for which I have hoped for a few years now. I am going to continue to work on small details each day to maximize those messages. The morning cocktail is beginning to loosen me. Thank Christ I am alone or things would head south very quickly. As happy as I am about the changes in the garage, there are still underlying issues which will never let up. I am compelled to demonstrate a change in attitude, as well. I need to show certain people that I am but half of what they may believe, if not less. Anger is perpetual. And... Wednesday. I have not spent much time gathering my thoughts due to working around the house. I successfully finished the freezer project yesterday; emptied, defrosted, cleaned and then back into operation. Very good. I also moved the old garage cabinet to the back porch where it will wait to be given away (or destroyed, whichever comes first). The space leftover from all this crap going away and being reorganized is wonderful. I’ll be heading back into caring for little steps again, too. Small spaces lead to larger spaces. Once my coffee is gone, I’m going to visit the market for a few staples and then return to do some housework. I need to go over there early before the possibility of changing my mind. And speaking of ‘changing’... Watching my latest program last night proved that whatever shift in my way of thinking that occurred last year is still in full swing and very strong. I could not believe the sheer level of desire during certain scenes with regard to one actor. The damaging dreams have had quite the effect upon the way I see other people. When combined with so many disastrous situations that create anger out of the clear, blue sky, I am surprised to be social with anyone these days. My condition continues to worsen as the clock turns. I can’t fucking do anything about anything. This is not only very sad, but maddening to a great degree. I’m pretty sure one day everything will come to a head and bad things will happen. It is only a matter of time. As of yet, I’ve been able to carry forward in life and please others as expected. If only they knew what goes on inside my head. Not good. '3000 miles from HER? 3000 millimeters would be ideal. Jesus Christ... The meaning... Right fucking there.' Thursday, 1043. My daily housework is out of the way and I have a nice, fat cocktail next to me. I also have a plan to finalize the dining room modifications by relocating one cabinet to the chimney in the garage and moving the shelving unit that lives there to the top of my laundry cabinet. The operation will require some reinforcement of the existing shelves that are above the washer and dryer. I may get out there later and do some work. The downside is that I must remove the speaker from the same location. For the next few months, I’ll probably only have stereo audio on one side of the garage until such time as I can procure another pair of floorstanding loudspeakers. The old, walnut units need to be protected, so the plan is to build another shelf high above the floor to hold them. I can wrap each enclosure so they remain clean. Back inside the house, the dining room will enjoy more open space. That corner has appeared quite cluttered since the cat tree was added. I don’t like it. At least a solution is in the works. The only caveat is motivation. We shall see how I feel later this morning. For the time being, I am going to relax here and gather my thoughts. The main reason is there are now two enigmas and I had a hell of a time handling one. The result is realizing that this is how I am to remain for the rest of my life... At a tremendous distance from everything I need. All I can do is ‘see’, rather than be involved. Nothing good is on my horizon. Get used to that statement. Like yesterday, I silenced the phone early in the day and turned it upside down. I do not wish to see or hear any notification of a message from anyone; text, voice or otherwise. This is a clue as to the depth of my pain and the fact that in the space of one year I have closed myself off like never before. Not good. I’ve always been a very nice, helpful person. Lately, however, I believe that my condition must take priority over that of other people regardless of what they may want or need. Next day. Friday. The daily activities are far beyond redundant. They are also rather ridiculous. Filling space? Or, conversely, something to type while I am trying to think? I don’t know. I feel like shit every day and sitting here in the morning is about the only activity that I find comfortable anymore. Daydreaming bothers me so I try to stay distracted. Dreaming while asleep is beyond my control and most of the time the dreams float away soon after and I forget. I keep seeing her (and others once in a while) and falling all over myself like a child outside the toy store window gazing at the most elaborate, expensive merchandise available. All I can do is look. I am tired of these continuing processes. Every fucking day, you ask? Oh, yes. From morning to afternoon to night... Nothing is coming my way. Nothing good is on the horizon. And don’t give me a blast of shit for being negative, either. I won’t fucking hear it. One of the dreams earlier this morning was actually pretty cool. Something about electronic test equipment. Whatever. Silver snakeskin and slipstream. Slip. I am losing it. No one understands and I think that is best. I won’t talk about it anymore. Snakeskin. Remember the blue dress? It represented a woman. I think she’s fucking dead now. The cavern? That was the inside of my head. The wind was the sound of my voice. And the fucking mustard? I won’t talk about that one. Live with it. If I am going to be subjected to the same shit over and over every Goddamned day, someone is going to hear about it – mostly the keyboard. The mustard is related. I’ve been squished, relegated, routed and fucked over for so long that the aspects of life which continue to bring even the slightest bit of enjoyment are all I cling to anymore. The steepest climb right now is finding a way to steer myself away from anger and toward something productive. Anything, really. Hopefully there can be a smidgen of enjoyment as I try to remain distracted from reality. 0833 on Friday morning, October the 27th. The only reason the date makes any fucking difference at all is because Halloween is in four days. Otherwise, every day resembles the previous. As for the holiday, I’ll probably have the garage ready, but will my head be prepared for the holiday? No answer. The last two mornings have been very cool – like down into the forties – so once the morning furnace cycle is complete, the temperature inside the house drops fairly quickly. Maybe I should do something other than sitting here in order to keep warm. Heh. There are always improvements to be made around here, yet as time passes I find myself caring less and less. The temperature is nothing to me. I can deal with the cold sans issues. I have lived in places that make this weather seem downright balmy. My head will be sideways on Halloween. It always is. I will see things, become very depressed, and then make nice like everyone else. The story taking place in the netherworld is affecting my ability to rise above the difficulty and care for my housework. I am completely helpless anymore, a frail wisp of what I once was, and continually shoved aside by people. The only time when I can find any semblance of comfort is while alone. Tuesday night, the holiday, will be wonderful for a little while, mostly while I get things in order. Later, however, life will once again come to the forefront, very blurred and dim. I already know. There is just no getting around it anymore. Sideways is all I have left. Sideways and a keyboard; dreams and disappointment. Dreams, indeed. They are ruining me and I am not at fault. Saturday, post drive. I used the alternate route like last weekend and covered half the town in a matter of minutes. Very nice. I still have coffee left, so sitting here for a while seems the best idea right now. As of yesterday, the center of the garage is completely empty. Everything has been relocated back to my neighbor’s garage, I swapped the two cabinets as previously described, and performed a general cleaning of whatever had been left behind. I also mounted the door to the side of the chimney so everything in that corner appears very neat. Overall I am very pleased, yet the inside of my head is actually worse off than prior to the big project. The usual... Seeing; dreaming; nothing. Disappointment in the world; irreparable damage that was caused so long ago that I can’t remember any segment of my life in which the related difficulties did not become the focus at some point. Every day, to this very second, in fact. My work in the garage and house does not fucking matter. It’s nothing more than ‘something to do’. Marvelous. Still, I am pleased to be at home for the duration regardless of whatever pitfalls may come along later. Eh... The motivation for the garage is probably the arrival of Halloween in three days. Afterward I will likely lose myself again because there will be one less aspect of life that matters. ‘That’s it?’ ‘What else is there? I got chicken burnin’.’ See. Desire. Fall. Anger. Repeat. Away we go, back to the bad place... The view from my corner table at First Food & Bar. So sad Shit. I hear her voice again. ‘I am nearly finished with you, my dear.’ ‘What the fuck does that mean? Are you going away?’ ‘I’ve tried; you’ve resisted. I can see the end of the road long before it arrives.’ ‘I still don’t know what I have to do.’ ‘Exactly.’ Ah... Shit. If Julia gives up on me, what can I do? Is there anything left for which to strive? Cocktail number three. I am still watching Jennifer move back and forth as she serves the bar and restaurant. She reminds me of those servers at the cozy brewery in Pleasanton fifteen-plus years ago and the desperation I felt due to needing to see all of the information. I had to see everything but knew I never would. I still feel the same way. The negative material plane may allow such an indulgence, yet in reality anything along such lines is far more distant. As time passes, my obsession continues to focus, my age increases, and everything that seemed within reach is pushed further and further away. The way I view beauty is so fucking distorted that the likelihood of anything real being where I need is for naught. I don’t know what to do. The servers at the brewery came along at a time when my obsession was forming, and the strongest desire I felt was to measure and create a database of sorts for comparison and to understand at what point the numbers became pushed far enough for the subject to become an enigma. That is to say a woman with dimensions that straddled the line between attractive and unattractive. To this very moment, I’ve only had two chances of actual study, the first nearly killing me. After all this time, I’ve come to realize that I will never be able to learn the solution to such an equation. Beauty is so far beyond subjective that I can no longer find reason. Moreover, the fourth door contributed to a type of future that could not have been predicted. I know one crucial detail, but it cannot be spelled out here or anywhere else regardless of which world I consider, the nether or reality. This is so fucked up that I may soon lose track of everything. Julia’s question is destined to go unanswered forever. ‘Jennifer?’ ‘Yes, love? Another drink?’ ‘I need to drink in more of you than I’ve seen.’ ‘I know.’ ‘So...?’ ‘I can’t help you anymore. That which you cannot see will remain as such.’ ‘But...?’ ‘I’m sorry. I have to remain behind her line and be your bartender.’ There it is... The beginning of the end. 'Can you be my friend?' 'Of course.' God bless her. As much as I'd like a mass of other things to take place right now, I suppose I'll have to obey Julia's wishes and restrict myself to conversation. Thanks to reality, I am already fully accustomed to not being where I need, not speaking of what is most important, and being left on the side of the road with respect to others taking me seriously as a fucking person. Sitting here and doing nothing more than chatting with the bartender should be a cake walk compared to the rest. One hand tied behind my back, and all that type of shit. At least I can stare, too. She’s lovely. Maybe I failed to appreciate the fourth door at the time. Maybe? I can’t say for sure because the memory is still stirring. Many other aspects of life and past events often drive me to similar thinking; as if they should have been more enjoyable while originally taking place, and now that I am decades older they appear much better than in reality. Does that make sense? Like that huge birthday dinner at the Roxy Bistro inside the El Dorado in Reno many years ago. I was told to cherish every moment because my past was being carried on and handed off to the younger generation and I needed to ensure their appreciation of such lavish nights. The fourth door may have been the best thing in the world at the time, as well. When I consider my feelings in reality and compare them to that day, I can’t help but feel that everything has slid downward since. ‘The issue is what you did with the information; a dream come true.’ ‘Ah, shit.’ I guess Jennifer has stepped in for Julia. Splendid. The fourth door carried with it details of which I dreamed for years, and shortly thereafter everything melted away in reality and I was left with nothing. And then it happened again. I just kept going back to that closet door in my mind. Nothing compared for a very long time. When something came along that brought me to a similar state of mind, I somehow knew it would not last and I’d be left alone again. That is exactly what happened. Soon after, I began to formulate alternatives and on a few occasions actually ran away to control the situations and find the understanding I so desperately needed. When I passed on the other three doors, the back of my mind flipped along like yet another Rolodex full of pictures of both the past and where I felt I HAD to be. Fear kept me in place because I wished to be near that closet door again... The fourth fucking door. A dream come true? Bullshit. More like a dream that was ripped away by other people. Now it is gone. I need to get fucking crocked in this bar. I need it pretty badly. I need help, too. I may not survive this trip to the negative material plane. I may never fully understand it, either. Not good. I want to play with Jennifer’s breasts. Like most of reality, though, they are unavailable. I hope I am correct about the fourth door. I can see it, still. I can see the green. And one detail that came to mind when I entered the steakhouse is the idea that I knew of the dream even years prior to the door. I knew it, spoke of it, yet was forced to shove it to the rear in favor of what others needed. Regardless of such a process feeling unfair, there was nothing I could do about it. I would guess the number of years to be three. I found clues here and there, as well. Discussions. Evidence. I suspected that dreaming was soon going to be all I had left, and I was right. Other situations followed that fucking door throughout the proceeding years, yet they were all slightly different than the first. My mind always went back in time to the first occasion as it eventually became the reference for the meaning of life. God damn, this is completely fucked. Julia is not responding, Jennifer is but a symbol of desire (and the past), and the negative material plane is slowly swallowing my entire life, reality included. I always knew my days were numbered, yet the thought seemed far away. Now it feels as if it is waiting just around the corner. ‘I think I no longer matter.’ Indeed. Mint Julep number four; Just like the door; No more in store; All is now lore. Jennifer muddles, mixes and pours again. This gives me an idea... The hostess. I don’t know her, yet she is very familiar for some reason. Maybe she is the one that stood there when we visited Aquanox all those years ago. I feel like being reckless, and that means throwing out a line to see if I get a bite. I am apprehensive, but what is the worst that can happen? Rejection? Or will someone come flying into the restaurant and shoot me in the head again? Will any of it even fucking matter? I don’t think so. I am stuck here like always, alone and full of regret. Well, there is a ton of anger on the heels of all those memories, so maybe when I speak to her and she responds in the negative, I’ll have one less reason to care about anything in this place. Perhaps the fourth door has ruined me. Marvelous. I think I’ll sit here and analyze a while longer before taking any sort of action. I can stare at Jennifer’s wondrous form in the meantime. That’s all I ever do, anyway. Fuck it. Let’s drink. ‘You’ve already arrived.’ ‘What do you mean?’ That just fucking sucks out loud. I’ve arrived? What the fuck? I realize my analysis has hit on a few key points and possible answers, yet there still seems to be so much more. Why is that? Will I be stuck in this gulag and questioning everything for all time? Jennifer is not responding to me anymore. It’s as if I am not sitting right here on this stool. Hmm. Did my idea of hitting on the hostess cause a problem? I don’t understand. Wait a minute... Everything is quiet now. I turn to see that all of the people are gone; returning to face the bar shows me that my bartender has also disappeared. The large, open entrance facing restaurant row? Not there. I see nothing but a wall. Ah, shit. At least my Julep is still present. I suppose I am stuck in this place. Have I wished to be here for too long? No answers. Does this mean if I want the salad that I’ll have to go to the kitchen and prepare one? Ugh. I suppose this is the time for thinking and analysis. No other options are apparent. Door number four has done a number on me. That’s almost funny. I still see that closet, the view of my truck out the window, and the green... Always with the green. Mint green. Maybe I obsessed over certain details enough to cause a complex to form inside my brain that became permanent. There were earlier moments, too; details. I am speaking of something over which I used to gush, a scene dating back to before the glow. There were problems attached to the way I felt, as well. Those problems came and went throughout the ensuing decades. Did I cause them? Was it the first shit situation? The second caused long-term irreparable harm to my psyche and the way I see the world. All that hiding... From the huge issue of trying to remain behind some sort of cover no matter where life found me, all the way down to little details, such as arranging my glasses and other items on a restaurant table in order to shield my plate, food and movements from the eyes of other people. Sitting at corner tables, always facing out; retreating to the backs of rooms to remain unnoticed; arriving at every single fucking event or gathering as early as was feasible so I could get a detailed lay of the land and scope hiding places. I had to be in an advantageous position from which I could see everything and everyone, while at the same time ensuring that most could not see me. Always hiding. Always covert. Always quiet whenever possible. That was the second shit situation, and there is much more. The fourth door yielded emotions that helped to suppress the first shit situation, and from then on I saw no other way to live. The closet door and a smile; the mirror and another smile. I can only use so many words, yet the point is pretty fucking clear. The first shit caused all sorts of crap and still does. Media, the general consensus of the mainstream, the bullshit I heard every single fucking day for forty years, and the capper... The portrayal of that first shit situation as a punch line. During the mid-glow, I wanted to escape the masses and live nearly three thousand miles north of here just to be in a place where I was certain no one would want to venture. The main reason was to detach myself from the machinations that hurt people as crafted by those who tried to lift themselves. Hiding in public places? The move north could have effectively removed such a necessity. Both shit situations could have been lessened to a great degree had I left this place. I can’t be sure, yet the possibility cannot be denied. As for the door? The cost of unburdening myself from the whole of society would have had a much higher cost with regard to my well-being: The fourth door would have faded into the background of life and eventually made to disappear. Black and white, everything. In fact, had my desired move come along when I needed it most, the fourth door would never have materialized. How’s that for a paradox? Would I have missed something that never happened? The first shit situation comes to mind every single day without fail. Every. Single. Day. I was staring at Jennifer due to the same, not to mention my desire to declothe the hostess. The fourth door stemmed from it, as well. Everything which made me what I am at this very moment, all full of confusion and pain while sipping my delicious drinks grew because of a ten-minute situation so long ago. The fourth door is also indicative of a few other personality traits that have only further solidified my way of thinking after all this time. I can’t go into detail, although I am now alone here and no one can possibly hear what I may be saying, save for Julia. She has all but disappeared from the netherworld. Now I have no idea of what to do other than sit here and analyze all this shit. Splendid. I will say that this is the longest I’ve been allowed to remain in the goblet without being ripped away to some other location. Perhaps I should be thankful. Now, if I just had a companion... Silence. Only the inside of my head is making noise. I don’t even hear the bar refrigeration running. There is no more piped-in music, nor any conversation present. Nothing. This is very odd. If that fucking wall had not appeared behind me, I could wander and see what’s what. Nope. I am stuck in the restaurant. Again... I may have wished to be here too often throughout the decades. Julia made certain to give me what I wanted. Ugh. Can I go into the kitchen and find something to eat? I wish that was funny. Do I know enough at this point? Is there to be more? Have I plowed enough shit, taken enough heat and felt enough pain? No, I don’t feel sorry for myself. I am working within and this fucking situation has very little to do with anyone else that is alive. I need to pour myself another drink. Ah... Shit. I hear something. 'You cannot survive this, my love. I'm sorry, but I've done all that I am able.' 'I understand your position. Leave it alone, please.' 'As you wish. There is but one thing left for you to see.' 'Bring it.' Flash!"
October 28th, 2023 11:30am pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
Door Four
read ( words)
"Another fuckin’ door. Splendid. If it represents the shit from eleven-plus years ago, I have a pretty good idea of what Julia is going to throw at me, the worst of which will be that last horrible decision which was made due to a dire need for the right type of understanding, and I thought I had found it. Well, nope. I stumbled into nothing more than a wasteland of fear and paranoia. Shortly thereafter, everything went to shit and I effectively removed any possibility of a fourth opportunity prior to ever pursuing it. All the while I was unraveling just enough to be tossed to the side of the road before anything materialized. Afterward, I felt ruined. I was certain that my life was over. Door number four is pretty fucking bad and I’ve already been through enough as a result. I don’t even want to deal with it. Considering Julie and I lived through the desert, beach and mountains without a single clear answer as to why, I really don’t need any shit from Julia regarding the fact that I threw away a wonderful career months before ever applying to the firm. There was never a chance and I didn’t fucking know it until everything came crashing down on my life. There is a small part of my brain that will be forever reserved for what are now the worst lessons imaginable. Julie is around my left arm again, her head resting gently upon my shoulder. I wish I was as comfortable on the inside as the opposite. I need her, but never know when that little girl will be ripped away by the other one. I just never know. Four doors. Wonderful. I’ve been through the other three, yet the new one is looming large over the sandy beach. Wait a minute... Am I correct about the fourth door? Or was it something else, perhaps an event or situation long forgotten? I wouldn’t put it past Julia to employ a nonlinear timeline. Not at all. I can remember Steuart Street, the short interview and then the goddess across the hall (related?), a passion for the film industry nearly coming to fruition before I shoved it aside due to fear, and then an attempt to reroute my career by enrolling in college (for the fifth time). Three doors. I have to think about this because there was always desperation involved whenever I was fearful of change. What? Yep... I was desperate to find validation. I still can’t see a clear connection as to ‘why’, though. I needed what I needed and graded everything aside in order to find it. I don’t want to walk through the fourth door. I will soon have no choice, though, because whenever I am resistant to Julia’s intentions, she simply directs me wherever she feels I must go, and when. Wonderful. I am expecting more painful memories and cryptic questions. ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘You can fuck right the hell off.’ ‘Not me... YOU. We are nearing the end of everything. I love you.’ What the fuck am I supposed to do with that kind of statement? Julia is pissing me off to the nth degree and there is nothing I can do about it. Not happy. At least I have the lovely little Julie for support. Without her, I’d probably be much worse off. I thought perhaps the first closet door is number four. That rhymes. ‘Number four; closet door; of it no more Three–quarter, I saw Her mane; she remained; insane The mirror; the straw The camel’s back is broken.’ I am not certain of what to think. How can that old situation relate to the others? Maybe that occasion was poignant for some reason that now escapes me; the first connection between my brain and reality. I do remember a few years prior to the closet door (the first) when I calculated that some things are simply not real because they felt so far away. The door made a difference. It also made me think about everything differently. Hmm. What could it have to do with Steuart Street? I have to figure this out before taking a step in any direction. I don’t want to end up floating again. That was not only uncomfortable, but my companion had disappeared and left me to feel very lonely. I needed her; NEED her. Maybe we can remain on the beach for a while to think. So far, Julia has been absent since arriving here again. Well, aside from her voice. I still don’t know the answers. The fourth door could be as I suspect, or I may be way the hell off the mark. I can’t know for sure right now. We shall wait. I am seeing mint green inside my head. The best part of this is Julie on my arm. She is so kind. Maybe I should request a different part of her attached to me for a little while. Would the idea get me in trouble? Probably. Nothing positive seems to happen in this place. I can still see her smiling, much like the other one so many years later. ‘Uh-huh’, and I saw a smile. Reality has proven to me that I need not wish for things anymore; the netherworld is the only aspect of life left to me in which I can ask questions. Will there be a smile? Of course not. The fourth door was the first occasion and might as well have been the last for all I care. The chair, too. That was in Sparks. There was another door but I don’t think it is relevant in this place. Other aspects of that time are very important and I am reminded of quite a few on a daily basis as I sit here and lament everything that is gone. I’ll have to keep the door in mind and continue trying to relate that period – right smack dab in the middle of the fucking glow – with what I have become, and perhaps the ‘why’ will make a slight appearance. I don’t know for sure. I am going to hold Julie and think as we stroll along the beach. If the fourth door was the first occasion of asserting my dreams, why is it not number one? The first should be one, right? Let’s look at what may have been going on during the times of the other three. Steuart Street was during the same period as the closet door, but I can’t be certain of the exact year, nor can I identify which event was first. The second is supposed to be more than a decade later at my place of work. How does that relate to the way I feel each day? Something akin to the fourth door had to have been going on during the second period. That was before Laura and Maggie, too. I can’t think of what might relate to the fourth door. This is becoming very confusing. I remember where I was working and living at the time. I remember the sound engineer helped me with a bunch of information about the industry. I also recall being obsessed with memories of the glow. Maybe that first fucking period was the entire ball of wax. The closet door is merely something which stands out these days because I am so far gone. I need more information, or at least lots of time to try connecting the dots. Oh, a word just popped into my head which could be a factor. Hmm. The word seems perfectly natural most of the time, too. It can be harsh or gentle depending upon the person it is describing, but I have to say it relates to the me of the past as well as the present. I believe the closet door was the beginning of something that will never leave me. I cannot think differently, nor do I wish to push aside such dreams and continue through life as if I am not fucking desperate beyond belief. There were little occasions here and there prior to when I saw that door, but I am beginning to believe that the closet door was the very first time I felt the earliest tinge of validation. Ah... Shit. Just as I seem to be getting somewhere, the light is beginning to dim. Turning, I see that the only door still well-lit is number four, all ornate and looming. This may be when Julia forces me to go somewhere else when I really don’t want to leave here just yet. The connection I’ve made between the fourth door being something of dire importance to me both then and now needs to be analyzed and explored while the feelings are fresh. Fuck. Maybe not. Flash! Mint green; blurry. A smile, too. The door is to my left. Slam! I’ve been hit by the realization that the closet door was the beginning of a mindset that has carried through to this very second, and that is saying much because the situation I am seeing took place during the mid-glow – more than thirty years ago. The feeling has remained inside my head. What the fuck does this have to do with the goddess that was perched across the hall from the railroad office? I may never know. That was the first door, so there is no way I am going to understand why the closet door is number four. Is it supposed to be related? Too many questions. The timeline is linear, yet Julia has provided me with information to the contrary. Splendid. Crack! The door just fell to pieces and there is glass everywhere. The mint green is now dripping with red. I don’t want to see this! Shit! Outside the window where my car should be parked is the fucking gunman. How many times does this shit have to happen? What did I do? I have to get out of here. To the hallway... To the living room slider... I have to get out... Flash! Blackness for the umpteenth time. Marvelous. Julia is not currying favor right now. At least I know that the first occasion of me feeling something I so badly needed was during the glowing years. I suppose this is better than nothing. And I can go further, perhaps... I probably tried to imagine the woman across the hall at the office in similar terms. In fact, I know I did, because to this very second my feelings have not fucking changed. The God’s honest truth is that not a fucking moment passes in my life that does not have me dreaming of the precise type of understanding that I’ve needed for more than four decades. I’ve been there, too... I’ve been right in the middle of wonder, yet each occasion was fraught with disaster, fear and an unrelenting desire to end everything. Out of one type of desperation came another. Not good. And now here I am floating in null space with only a smidgen more knowledge than I had just a few moments ago. Why Julia felt it necessary to send the gunman to threaten me again I will never know because there was already a very apparent lesson taking place. Maybe each time I arrive at a realization she has to flex some fucking power. Or? Maybe he is only there to run me the hell out of one scene before something bad happens. Eh... I don’t fucking know. The gunman has always felt like death, meaning anything positive flies away upon sight. When I see him, I run, good or bad. In the passenger car? He helped me with nothing more than a series of facial expressions culminating in one very poignant nod of the head. I’ll have to think about this for a while because he could actually be pushing me away from danger. Maybe I should just give up and see what happens. I mean... Does anything I do in this place make a difference? Will Julia adjust her strategy and simply leave me alone if I begin to throw in the towel? No idea. I don’t want to be shot by that guy anymore, that’s for sure. I will say that he reminds me of the bartender in the big resort from years ago. Do you remember that one? The title of the story escapes me right now, though. Anyway, the resemblance is more of a feeling than something physical. The gunman in the passenger car was the same as the character chasing me through the resorts, and he was not as tall as the bartender. On the other hand, if my suspicion is correct, he may be trying to help me just like when I tried to blow up the past. Hmm. As long as I am going to remain in-between, I may as well hash this shit out. I have nothing better to do (nor CAN I do anything, really). I hope all this fucking mess is worth whatever comes along, be it my understanding of the way my mind has developed over the decades or the reasons why validation has become paramount in life. I really wish I did not feel this way. I also wish that some aspects of the negative material plane were not necessary for me to fully analyze all this crap. I don’t like being reminded of all I’ve done wrong, and possibly for the wrong reasons. Was it all futile effort? I am no better right now than I’ve ever been. Julia had better clarify her shit or I’m going to completely give up. My last question could be the deciding factor in every fucking part of life. That is not good. Still black. Floating. No Julie, no trains, no nothing. I don’t know what to think other than considering the significance of the fourth door. I mean... Have I even received confirmation that the closet door is indeed number four? I don’t believe so, and that means I must figure something out or hang here forever. Flashes of light... The closet door... Mirrors... Green... 'Please don’t do this!' No one is listening. To the real world we go...
Monday morning. I took the drive earlier and made it back home just after 0830. Not bad. As for the hours ahead, I really don’t know what is going to happen. I have a bit of housework and laundry, so perhaps when the coffee is gone I can tackle some of that stuff and then see how I feel about anything further. The time is now 0906. I need to fly up Alyssa’s half-shirt again. Shoot me. The view reminds me of seeing Andrea’s bulging chest perched above her negligible midsection and the wondrous gradient created by the combination. The Raven, too. Her numbers were pushed to the fucking limit. Alyssa is often similar, although her clothing is vastly different. Monday has disappeared. I think the girl over whom I am goo ga (the real one who walks by every now and then) is half Asian mixed with something else. I saw her again yesterday. Thankfully, she was not wearing the creme-colored pants. They make me insane because she looks like several of the slender models I’ve displayed here in the past. Her features are very difficult to describe, so fuck it. Her appearance will not make one iota of difference in my life other than causing pain. Will I stare again? Yes. Sometimes I wish that she had been the one in my dream the other morning. Nope. The subject of the damaging dreams was there asking that beautiful, yet mysterious question. I had the opportunity to have a nice lunch yesterday after we went to the car dealer (which was a complete bust, by the way). For a short time, I began to feel some freedom and anticipation like years ago and then everything faded. No lunch. No comfortable bar/restaurant. Nothing. The excitement melted away upon returning home and I ratcheted down another small notch due to feeling anticipation in the first place. I should know better due to the statement that Julia doesn’t like... ‘Nothing good is on my horizon.’ I spent some of the afternoon working on a new light bar to mount above the workbench, and then retreated to the sofa a little while later as dinner was heating. That’s it. Very exciting. My head continued to process the idea that my life already ended and all I’ve been doing for the last few years is going through the motions in order to remain the same in others’ eyes. And yes, a little outing for lunch is a big fucking deal to me these days. Well, sometimes. There have been so many changes in the area and with businesses disappearing and cropping up as something else that I have a hell of a time trying to find somewhere to go. That’s not fucking funny, either. At some point I will not even call this area home anymore because the entirety of any resemblance will be gone for good. So much has disappeared already that driving around those old areas is completely fucking depressing. I’ll try to avoid going on at length about the town in which I grew up. That never ends well at all. Perhaps if we had located a comfortable spot, I wouldn’t feel this way right now. Today is Tuesday and I don’t have to drive or anything else. The whole day is mine for whatever I feel is best. One might believe that such a circumstance is a huge positive, right? Not so much. The time is 0800 straight up and I am already feeling lost. Marvelous. This entry is going to make about as much sense as the previous. Ugh. For reference and curiosity’s sake, I went to the Disney site to see the actual cost for a five-day trip, including hotel and park tickets. Wow. Things have changed. I have not lodged in their own hotel since I was very young and now I see why. We probably couldn’t afford the fucking place. I don’t know if I’ll ever visit that wondrous place again. The last time I was in their parks was Florida, more than twelve years ago. Even then I spent a fucking mint. Whatever. Back to reality, I guess. I haven’t mentioned the enigma in a while because that series came to an end and I don’t see her every day. Maybe it’s a good thing. The girl on the street is a different type of draw (in two ways) and being focused upon either of them causes problems that I am not equipped to handle. I feel like a small child in a massive toy/candy empire who has been told never to touch anything. Just look and then leave. Everything is disallowed. Hmm... maybe I can interpolate such a thought with the previous paragraph. Imagine traveling to the park as a young person – all wide-eyed and overcome with anticipation – and then upon entry being told that the only activity is walking around and looking at the attractions. Think about that because I feel it each time I see her. Um, which ‘her’, you ask? Any. I sit here and try to rationalize, fail at the effort, and then attempt to reconcile myself with the truth: This is all I will ever have. I will see the enigma again; the other girl will walk by again. Nothing improves. Quite the reverse. 0820. I can’t really continue the story this morning. I am not feeling the words, nor do I see any value in trying to express myself. This is all I have right now, so it will have to be enough. At some point I guess I’ll get out of here and do something else. I can take care of the housework or continue with the light bar in the garage, or maybe whatever else pops up in the meantime. Thursday. I’ve been working on the autosound articles for the last few days, hence not much here. And I don’t care, anyway. In the space of two calendar days, my position in life has dropped considerably. I am fallen again. Fallen... Away. I can’t take much more of this shit. There was something wonderful not far from me yesterday, and the sight will not leave my brain. Above and below; from one place to another; all the way in one direction and all the way in the other at the same time. Indescribable. The pain came to me almost immediately as I realized there is almost nothing left for me in this life, nor can I see a way out of the wasteland that continues to press its advantage. I will probably never leave. The condition is uncertain. The other one? There can be no uncertainty present. If they only knew. If they only fucking knew. Hence? I edited and updated the only knowledge references over which I have control. Everything else has flown away for good. She was right there and I saw everything. The gradient is still painful and there is nothing I can do about it. The tally of the word ‘nothing’ is now 5183. 0908. I have the last cup of coffee. I’ll do some housework when it’s gone. 1043. Coffee... Splashed. Cocktail... Flowing. Brain... Barbecued. I cannot achieve the balance of the PTC, meaning the day has not improved despite my completion of the routine. Well, the day is fine. Hot, but fine. My head is the part remaining unimproved. I keep thinking about what I’ve seen and the overwhelming desire to connect with such beauty, yet the knowledge that such a life cannot be for me is beginning to alter my typical comfort during weekdays when I have very few responsibilities. For example, today is like so many other days in that I have few chores to accomplish, yet the vision is pressing down upon my brain without remorse. Moreover, we are going to travel to a new restaurant part way down the coast shortly after 1430 for a late lunch, meaning I’ll be gussied up for the atmosphere (and out of respect for that type of establishment), as well as making nice the entire time. On the inside, however, the storm shall continue, and will likely result in the necessity of maintaining a delicate balance between ‘pleasant’ and ‘horribly angry’. The process will not be easy by any stretch of the word, yet the plan is in stone regardless of my needs. I will admit that part of me is looking forward to what has become one of my favorite activities – visiting a bar/restaurant – but at the same time I already know that the pain and suffering will continue unimpeded. As if all that shit is not enough to fuck up my day, the pro football discussion, general disrespect and asinine, inane commentary that took place just outside MY garage yesterday is going to cease forthwith. I am going to create and post signage dictating rigid terms for spending time in my empire regardless of whomever may feel I’ve become unfair. I just can’t deal with the onslaught of media emanating from pathetic little speakers that has become the opiate of the masses. In short, if a person wishes to visit and relax here, they will adhere to the new doctrine. If they wish to carry on much like what took place yesterday, they will Goddamn well do it elsewhere or be told to retreat past the property line. I have zero patience for those who cling to their devices and feel it necessary to stream ridiculous media in my presence. If this means I end up alone, so be it. I’d rather die as myself than bend to some fucking pathetic evolution of society which has birthed a lack of good form. Call me old fashioned. I don’t fucking care. 1228. The weather is very warm again. The heat advisory from this morning extends to tomorrow night at 2300. Wow. This October rise in temperature is pretty typical for this area, as the onshore flow often reverses, sending the warm breeze our way from the other side of the hill (from the east). I’ve become accustomed to such changes in fall. There is no worry, however, because soon enough the weather will cool and remain as such all the way into next year. The wind may be very warm right now, but at least the air is moving. I informed those who spend time in my garage that the pro football discussion will not continue. I care not for how they may feel or react. The space is mine and subject to restrictions dictated by my mood. Fuck them. From this point in time until we leave for lunch, I am at a loss as to what can be done. My mood has diminished since yesterday, meaning I’ll have to mind my tongue as the day progresses. I certainly hope whomever is our server at the restaurant does not resemble the constructs that live inside my head. The result could be very bad... It WILL be very bad. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ Why did that have to happen? Yesterday was a solid indication of my feelings, but do all of the sightings, references and wishes have to drive my subconscious in such a direction? This feels completely unfair, although dreaming during sleep is one of the largest points of contention in existence. Maybe the line of dialogue from her is a sign that I really am further gone than I had suspected months ago. I don’t need any more of that shit, either. The first few dreams were quite enough to inform me that my balance is about as far off as is possible for a human being. Moreover, what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t have a fucking clue. There has never been the word ‘can’ when it comes to her. The only positives are that it was a dream, and yesterday is a clear reminder of just how strong I can be when the alternative is death. I need her more than ever, yet with each passing day the possibility of true understanding or validation continues to shrink. The dreams are merely reminders of the depth of my need for help. And no matter how many times I try to clarify or define such states, the truth is everything causes more pain inside. I’ve recently considered the idea that I may be ‘asking’ too much – an idea that would probably light up others’ interpretations of the current period – but the truth is that the two past shit situations cannot be denied regardless of how I may come across here or anywhere else. The damage is irreversible. As an aside, I am wearing a twenty-three year old shirt that was acquired for a very special trip to Disneyland. The shirt theme for that trip was ‘defunct dot-coms’ and even included the sock puppet, of all characters. This shirt reminds me of how wide-eyed I was regarding the early possibilities and promise of the public Internet in general, and my involvement at the time in particular. I actually had hope. Friday. Yesterday was ok, I guess. Very warm. Today will probably be the last day with a high temperature, though. I’ve been working on the car audio articles quite a bit and have left this shit alone for days. No one really cares, either. My words never go anywhere unfamiliar. Lunch yesterday was very nice. No issues; good food; nice atmosphere. There was a girl helping with the tables not long before we returned home, but I didn’t really see her as a problem so much as merely a reference for last year’s alteration in the way I had been thinking. Upon arriving here, the afternoon moved along very slowly due to the heat. I spent a good portion of the time in the garage with quiet music in the background. Nothing dramatic. The sun is about to rise over the trees and force me to close the blinds. Yikes. Anyway, later this morning I have to drive across the bridge to a car dealer with two passengers. My plan is to remain quiet and off to the side during the entire process. Yesterday rather humbled me, I guess. I feel very small and ineffective this morning. Some of it is due to conversation throughout the past few days regarding my launch tube (gun barrel, if you must) and the effort in cleaning it. Sometimes I sit here or in the garage and feel that everything I’ve done in the past no longer matters. All of my technical knowledge and experience has become meaningless. Saturday morning, post drive. The time is only 0848 and I have the entire day before me. All of the work will have to be completed early, unfortunately, since the weather is still hot. I believe the mercury is scheduled to fall beginning tomorrow. The trip to the car dealer yesterday was excruciating and required several hours of time, meaning when we finally arrived home in the afternoon I was overjoyed. What a fucking pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I went along in the first place. Literally the best part of the day was something wonderful in my eyes... The form I’ve desired for more than a year. She is amazing, yet a billion miles away. I expect such occurrences from time to time, so when they come along, I already know of the difficulty and the way I must deal with all that fucking pain. On the upside, today is already a huge improvement over yesterday because I have all the time and my devices, not to mention being able to gather my thoughts when necessary. The drive earlier this morning was smooth and comfortable and I have some coffee left. Soon I will take care of the short routine and straighten the house a bit before the weather is too warm. 1144. The typical stuff is finished and I am in the middle of taking care of a few loads of laundry. Over and above the usual crap, I have a plan to disassemble my secondary garage table and store everything differently so that the new car can be parked without issue. I’ve not had a ‘new’ car for many years, and though this one is not expressly mine, I’d like to protect it as much as possible. Moreover, my next vehicle will be very special, meaning the garage needs to be in order prior to that purchase. Once I find the ideal car, the garage priority will change. For the time being, I need the garage project to help get the mass of pain and desire out of my head, or at least to minimize the damage I am feeling at this very moment. Enough of this shit. Onward. 1659, same day. I am completely miserable. Time to get the fuck away from this shit. Sunday, I see. Yay. Whoopie. I am back from the drive with coffee in hand and the entire day to do as I feel. Yesterday went bad; hence the abrupt halt during the afternoon. Something happened that had me thinking of the only way this shit can be resolved (or ended) because the little enjoyments and other distractions continue to diminish as each day burns away. I keep thinking and thinking and then realizing that there is nothing for me. Others? Oh, of course. But me? Nothing. I see, I fall, I try to recover. Little by little I am running out of reasons for being here. Yesterday was another example of my inability to understand why the world must be this way. As a result of such an occurrence, I fell a bit further away and then failed to formulate a plan for getting myself out of the mood. I certainly hope today is not a repeat. I really don’t need any more of that shit. Sideways; like yesterday. I am sideways and there does not seem to be any recourse (like always). I certainly hope that what took place is not the shape of things to come. That could be very bad. I’ll have to wait and see, I suppose, along with making the effort to create better circumstances. I hope, anyway. I was upset prior to lunch yesterday, too, which helped to push me into reckless behavior. Believe it or not, I actually feel better and more mellow this morning, so hopefully this day will remain quiet and peaceful. Despite my brain being sideways, I can still take care of business and perhaps enjoy the football game(s). The hour is early. There is plenty of time for whatever seems best. And? ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ That shit will not fade away. I keep seeing her outstretched hand over and over no matter what I may be doing. Even at the car dealer two days ago when I was staring at the salesperson with her flowing hair and dark eyes, the other girl was taking control of my thoughts and the hair and eyes faded away. She is consuming me at times, mostly right after a dream. Over time it loses clarity and I can relax a little bit. Soon enough, though, she will return to my consciousness one way or another and derail whatever I may be trying to think or do. I can’t fucking help it. I need her. I need to take that outstretched hand and let her lead me to an embrace. Why did she ask that question? And what did she mean by ‘while we still can’? I don’t get it, and even considering the sheer level of desperation I feel each and every day, that dream’s meaning still eludes. One might think that the dire nature of my thoughts drove the subconscious to manufacture something confusing and relevant, yet I still can’t be certain. I am not a dream expert by any means. I am just a tiny person sitting here trying to understand everything. Bad situation; worsening as the clock spins. Bad. ‘Roadies?!’ ‘Oh, you don’t wanna know.’ Roadies. The reference reminds me of that woman from forty-plus years ago and the thoughts that spun inside my head when I realized she was employed in the world’s oldest profession. Damn. What was I to do? I wish she was standing in this fucking office right now, believe me. I could use some understanding before shit goes full-tilt. Anyway... 1133 is what I see on the clocks. My routine is finished for the day and I have a head start on the garbage business. Laundry is running, as well. I have been trying to finish anything physical before lunch for the past few days in case the weather warmed beyond my comfort level. Yesterday was cooler than the last part of the week, and today is even cooler than that. This is very good and opens up other possibilities just in case I feel like moving beyond the norm. I will soon have the house to myself, too. My team does not play until late afternoon. I prefer the midday kickoff, but must bow to the schedule and adapt to game time. The situation and feelings from yesterday are weighing heavily this morning. I am being led in a very bad direction lately, meaning my head may begin to compute information as it did years ago when I felt cornered. This is not good, people. Not. Fucking. Good. I just saw something wondrous and beautiful. Despite the fact that I don’t need to see her, these things are going to continue unless I move away from here. The likelihood of such an occurrence is dependent upon a massive fucking windfall, meaning the chance is nil. My head already manufactured a plethora of stirring, beautiful situations in a matter of seconds. Damn. Whatever. This is what my life has become. 1156 on Monday, the 9th of October. Nothing is going my way except for a few little moments spent doing something I love, beginning with yesterday’s foray into hardware organization. I don’t know where the feelings come from, but sometimes when I put my mind into something very tedious and monotonous, the world melts away and I become very relaxed. Others look upon what I’m doing and comment that they do not possess enough patience for that type of work. Aside from the organization, this day is bland. I need to relax and think for a little while. Maybe the hardware and my truck stuff can be explored later. That kind of thing always seems to relax me. Tuesday, and the first morning in sixteen which is all mine. The hour is early, I have coffee and my program, plus lots of time ahead for whatever I wish to accomplish. Regardless of feeling pretty damned good right now, the issue from last year is beginning to irritate me. No, not the dreams. Another matter, and a situation which is not good for my general attitude. Whenever I don’t understand something, I tend to focus and analyze everything and search for help. Right now, however, there is no help. I can’t talk to anyone. Well, there aren’t any ears out there, anyway, so I may as well refrain from commenting upon such an idea. This shit is going to cause my diminishing mood to fall further down and leave me even more isolated and separated from other people. I don’t feel like ‘me’ very often these days, so the problem is basically adding to such misery. The combination is going to leave me quite unpleasant. Sometimes sadness is more dangerous than anger. Sadness will press me to wish everything away. Anger causes lashing, nothing more. If everyone ends up unhappy with my company as a result of this development, all the better. I really don’t want to be around them these days. I make nice because I’ve always been nice. Change is slow and difficult. For the time being, I need to try remaining calm and considering options for how to cope with losing aspects of my life which have always been there. I counted on them, too. Always. Now I have to make some sort of change and have no idea of where to begin. I don’t want this shit to ruin my day, either. I have to be productive. Morning is typically when I feel motivated. I need to take advantage of it. Disaster, regardless of how I feel. Marvelous. The rest of the shit takes a back seat to disaster. Everything flew away and I am sad. Wednesday has taken over on the heels of a very relaxing evening, despite the troubling afternoon. I managed to move forward a bit with the organization, too. As I sit here right now, I have no clue as to how I was able to break out of the din, but it happened nonetheless. The plan from a few days ago was to work on creating small spaces so they would lead to larger spaces. So far, it’s helping. The effort will continue today as soon as I finish the coffee. The wheels turn slowly, eh? Everything feels exaggerated. Work must intrude. Now. After? The negative material plane...
The gunman acknowledged my actions and seemed to support what I needed to do – as if he already knew the steps that had to be taken and fully endorsed the shot heard ‘round the netherworld. After that, he chased me. Hmm. Was he trying to help? Maybe I should try initiating a conversation with him. Or, perhaps he is a physical manifestation of Julia’s anger toward me for being such a pain. Whatever the case, he will eventually find and kill me, meaning my best option may be to speak and see if anything develops. All this crap came from my head anyway. Oh, shit... What if there is an unconscious desire to end myself and the gunman represents the same? Damn. I have to leave that one alone for the time being and find some comfort. No, not that kind. The everyday type, nothing more. Floating here after Julia showed me one blissful day from three decades ago (closet door; mint green) made me very uncomfortable because if she is correct in the assumption that I connected validation, control and desire when that scene first played out, the future is even darker than I had first thought. My head has only become more deeply embedded within such a mindset and there is no way to change it after all this time. That single thought makes me want the gunman to succeed once and for all because I do not like feeling this way every fucking day. Trust me; it’s bad. Reality and the negative material plane have bled into each other on more than one occasion, but with regard to the gunman’s power, I don’t want such an aspect of this place to cross over and kill me. Not now, anyway. If that means I’m stuck in the black gulag for more time, so be it. As angry and disillusioned as I’ve become lately, the last thing I want is that guy after me until a tear forms between worlds. Not good. I’ll just remain here and wait. Floating. I hope I don’t see that fucking door anymore. Eh... Nothing is ever up to me, be it here in the zone or reality. Even the enigma is a billion miles away (just like the other one from my dreams). I feel a question coming on soon, too. I was in the passenger car – the first one – and did my best to interpret the signs and clues and then reached out to destroy a very damaging part of my past. Well, that didn’t affect much, did it? Here I am, like always, with a massive lack of understanding and only the tiniest steps forward. The real world that I experienced yesterday was a prime example of everything pressing on my brain and causing problems that did not exist a few years ago (perhaps two?). The change I mentioned last year still plagues me no matter which fucking world I am inside. There seems to be no recourse. Why did I go through all that shit in a frozen wasteland only to have the issues return to my everyday life? What a fucking maroon. The last few train rides did not accomplish much, either. I am beginning to understand why Julia keeps throwing the damned closet door at me, yet the full meaning seems larger than what I’ve seen thus far. And the other doors... Did I bypass all those opportunities because of the two shit situations? Did the problems hold me back? The first one has definitely continued to be a source of pain and sadness. There is simply no way around that shit. But the other doors? I’ll have to dive into the first again and learn if the goddess across the hall was the beginning of my dire feelings regarding validation. I just don’t know, but if Julia reminded me of something that fucking specific, there must be more than I’ve calculated to this point. I am still floating and the reason could be that I have to remain in-between until more analysis is completed. I can’t see it another way right now. Flash! Shit. Desert. Sand. Heat. Wind. How many fucking times have I been dropped here? There is something to the north, like most of the time. I see a structure again. And? I suppose Julia is finished with me floating in the negative space while analyzing everything which has taken place so far. I thought I was getting somewhere regarding the gunman. He might have been helping; he may have been trying to do Julia’s bidding by keeping me upright and alert during those mysterious times. I don’t know and may never thanks to being dumped here again. I guess I’ll fucking walk north and think for a while. I was in the desert long ago. That story of the past never ended, either. Everything just dropped off a few years ago and sits idle. What was I thinking? We blew up the hotel. Jaime was there for a while with her ever-changing, mood eye color and I loved being near that machine. I was chased by the gunman and the dragon. I remember the tall bartender and our quiet conversation. And then? Julie and I died over and over and fucking over until I was sick and tired of being put down like a common criminal. Then? Doors and sand; mountains and beaches; train after train. I’ve made progress, too. I really have. I understand how my thinking has become so horribly skewed, and I can see the way my obsession with the female form distorted and exaggerated itself until I fell into a pit of despair. Combined with feeling so desperate for understanding, those conditions have sent me so far off center that I can barely understand myself anymore. Julia has really done a number on me this time. Moreover, the three doors that represent my loss of potential and the way I steered myself in the direction of a very specific type of comfort rather than looking to the future are clearer now than weeks ago. As for the first three doors, I can now see how all that fear developed. It relates to the second shit situation; the fourth door caused me to realize just how important validation was to me (growing over time, as well) after suffering for years at the hands of the first shit situation. The closet door was idyllic – more or less, and according to what I knew and felt at the time – and as time passed through and beyond the glow, my head computed importance in life and quickly prioritized everything. Those priorities remain to this very second and have effectively removed any possibility of happiness. ‘You know.’ ‘Leave me the fuck alone, woman.’ ‘Find your destination, my dear.’ ‘I have nothing else left.’ Hasn’t Julia already hammered her point home? Have I not learned? Jesus fucking hell, anyway. I’ve connected the painful dots, I’ve related the doors, and I know exactly what I’ve become. There can no longer be any doubt of how I arrived here, either. No more questions. Part was my doing, and the rest was that of other people. They are all gone from the earth. I remain. I am between two positions right now. One is to continue living the way I have and push off concerns over external events; the other is the military mindset which has begun to tell me that there is little point in planning further than the end of each calendar day. As the discomfort continues to plague my mind and heart, I am seeing just how small and ineffective I’ve become in this life. Perhaps the negative material plane is all I have left. I guess I’ll keep walking until I learn of what lies in the distance. I suspect there is another resort. I wish I could visit one in reality. ‘I love you.’ ‘You can fuck right off.’ ‘As you wish.’ I can’t fucking trust that she will leave me alone anymore. Nothing has fully played out; interruptions seem to be the norm whenever I am placed somewhere rife with lessons. I’ve seen dioramas of the past, flashes and imagery from many years ago that were injected into my brain rather than appearing within actual sight, and have been almost continually questioned as to the meaning of the doors. Well, I put that shit to bed right quick – including the realization that door number four shaped me into what I am at this very moment – and see no reason for anything further to be dropped in my path. Shit situation one removed much of my potential enjoyment in life before it ever got off the ground whilst simultaneously causing more physical pain that one person should endure, and shit situation two removed my ability to fully connect with and trust other people. That was the point in life when I began to close myself off and hide as often as possible. My routes for walking to school or stores changed dramatically and I spoke with myself daily. The feelings which developed as a result of shit two also forced me to believe I would always be alone. I avoided all three doors due to fear, and shying away from any change was a direct result of my endless, fruitless fucking search for understanding. There it is. Along such lines, if the lovely little Julie appears again, I am going to jump her shit in a hot second. That would likely be my last chance to be exactly where I’ve needed for decades. Marvelous. And when I say 'need', I am lacing that word with more power than anything else in the fucking universe. The structure is taking shape, albeit a touch hazy from this distance. Something is flashing on the roof, if my eyes are not deceiving me. I can’t see very much yet. I certainly hope it is not the topper that was on Hotel Dracorum. Oy... That could be very bad seeing as last time I was chased around and forced to destroy the dragon in order to survive. At least I had the lovely Jaime at my side (and I at hers). ‘You are the king of your little castle.’ ‘The fuck?’ ‘Embrace what you can.’ I have no idea what she means with that crap. My castle? Is Julia referring to the house or garage? I am in the fucking desert and can’t be concerned with reality when my future here is uncertain. The resort is massive and clearing quickly as I progress across the sand. There are gates, much like the very first hotel I ran across years ago. Everything inside that place was crazy, if you recall. Repeating the situation is not something to which I look forward, if this resort is the same. Hopefully I can get inside, cool off and clean myself to look loyally for the club, and then relax with a drink. Usually once I get comfortable, Julie pulls me out and sends me elsewhere. I hate that. Never enough time to think about the current state before it is changed. Oh, shit. The hotel is not as it was before. I am looking at the south side of the Venetian. Wow. Maybe Ellie is working at the bar and I can get a hug. Not likely. Such thinking is rather like hoping to find understanding in real life. Heh. Laugh it up. At least if nothing is out of order I can be cool and comfortable for a little while. ‘Proceed.’ ‘Yeah. Like I have much of a choice right now.’ ‘Go.’ ‘Piss off, woman. Please.’ Silence again. At least I am not floating anymore. That can be very uncomfortable. In my head, mostly. The other adventures through which I have been forced to endure are interactive, whereas the blackness of being in-between is akin to gulag. I suppose I should be thankful. The Venetian... A resort fraught with memories, both good and bad. There was supposed to be a beginning at the Venetian, but it turned into the beginning of the end. The occasion was right on the heels of some big life changes that year, too. Everything seemed fine until I destroyed it. No door there, for sure. I am hoping that the resort is as it was twelve years ago, a time when First Food & Bar existed, as well as a few other very cozy places in which to sink and think. I could use some of them right now. Fingers crossed. Holy shit, everything is in place right down to the bridge, clock tower and moat. I thought I would never see this place again... The location where Andrea and I spent so much time; connecting with Eleanor and learning that there are people who have zero restrictions with respect to whom they care about deeply; the fateful, beautiful in-between period when I thought everything was going to be ok. In reality? The situation created problems inside my head and eventually ran into a buffer stop and exploded. This resort has seen me many times. Some of those visits were actually good. I remember standing in awe of the passageway between the Venetian and Palazzo casinos, as well as being in front of the resort at eleven at night when the temperature was nearly ninety degrees and the entire strip was lit like Christmas. That occasion went to shit, too. The memories are all over the place right now. Stepping into one of the most beautiful, dynamic resorts I’ve ever visited will go one of two ways... All the way up or all the fucking way down. I expect nothing good aside from perhaps a few minutes’ rest with a cool drink. Ashley just popped into my head. Not good. She and I never visited the Venetian. Well, there is the big, scary dragon sitting atop the central roof structure. Wonderful. I hope he (she?) leaves me the hell alone. The massive creature is the only aspect of this resort that seems out of place. Everything else is as it was the last time I was here, four years ago. Through the doors and down the escalator I go, consequences be damned. I need comfort for crying out loud. The casino floor is... ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ ‘Fuck off already.’ Damn. I can’t even think of the Asian restaurant or First without being interrupted by that damned woman. No, I have no idea what I ‘have to do’. Flash! Nightfall just took over in a split second. Wow. I wonder why such a change is necessary. Is it? Is anything going to be different at night? Um... Yep. I just remembered that the atmosphere inside the TAO Bistro which resides just below First changes after the dinner hour. Much like Rumjungle, the venue turns into a club and ends up crawling with gorgeous Asian hostesses and dancers. Shit. I never visited the restaurant, day or night but I’ve peeked inside a few times. Why the change in light? Am I supposed to see something? I’d rather go upstairs and see if the kitten is working. The idea is most unlikely, yet I feel compelled to find out the truth. I don’t want to see all sorts of exotic women gyrating all over the place. I spin on my heel and head back up to hit the second lift and stroll to the northwest corner and one of my favorite places in the world, First Food & Bar (of course, it is gone now like everything else that I’ve loved, but this resort is in a different world and far from reality). Nope. What am I seeing, you ask? Something called ‘Buddy V’s Ristorante’. Splendid. I believe the restaurant is the newest incarnation in that location. Damn shit fuck, anyway. Vegas changes so quickly sometimes that it makes my fucking head spin. Anyway, since First is no longer there (on this plane), I suppose I’ll head toward the main casino and find something comfortable. Hopefully, Double Helix is still in operation. That was always a good sink-in type of bar. The people around me look like vacationing robots. Heh. Perhaps I was the same years ago. I wish Julie was here with me right now. Or? Jaime and her unnaturally huge eyes. Either would be fine. I am alone, although if you consider the sheer number of occasions that I found myself in Vegas solo, one might believe I will be fine. Nope. I need something comforting, and there is nothing in either world more heartwarming than a loving companion. A person off of which I can bounce thoughts and ideas has always been a goal. I arrived in this town alone many times but never remained as such for very long. I always needed a very specific type of connection while within the machinery of this town, and the present is no different. I hope this doesn’t affect my ability to interpret Julia’s lessons. I am lonely. One destination just popped into my head, and since nightfall came along without warning, the restaurant is probably open. Whatever the actual time, Julia forced the night to arrive early. Yep... The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. At least the bar is cozy in that wonderful place. The dining room would be inappropriate for a single patron, but the bar would definitely not. If there is time, I can relax with my favorite cocktail (or three) and analyze the meaning of the doors. I’ve already solved the fourth door and the way it related to the shit situations, but the other three still need to be further hashed out and understood. I have to know for sure. Thankfully, restaurant row is a short walk. On the downside, the path to the same is full of memories, good and bad. There it is. I even see Jennifer behind the bar just like after I heard Andrea’s booties clicking their way out of my life. I very nearly died that night. To the bar, and one of the very few locations on this fucking planet where I am completely comfortable. Yes. ‘Welcome.’ ‘You look beautiful, like always.’ ‘Do we know each other?’ ‘Not really. A Maker’s Mint Julep... Please.’ ‘You got it.’ How long am I going to be allowed to remain here before everything is ripped away again? No idea. The plan right now is to sit here and get half lubricated in order to more easily deal with Julia’s shit. I’ve already seen a plethora of reminders of the fourth door and do not need to see anything further. My mind can take only so much of that beautiful day. I already know what it means and the effect it has had on the way I see the world. ‘You don’t wanna know.’ The layout is different than I recall, even after the most recent visit four years ago. I’ve dined here with four different women over a very long period of time and now find myself alone again. I could use some company, even a machine. Julia is not allowing anything right now, though. Jennifer is working and probably can’t sit with me as I unload a trainload of crap. Eh... She’s better off avoiding anything beyond superficial conversation, anyway. I am a syndrome just like during the past in reality. Vegas has a way of injecting memories both good and bad, this restaurant being both. The mixture of different time periods in this netherworld may serve to confuse me, as well. I’ll have to think clearly if I am to ever get out of here. ‘Another one?’ ‘Please, my dear. I may sit here for a while.’ ‘Whatever you wish, love.’ Oy. That word again. Remembering Andrea’s big, beautiful eyes looking into mine when she employed that endearing term is not going to help my situation. Maybe I should do something strange and see if there is any semblance of reality in this odd place. Up... Down... Up again... Then down further. What is this? A daily rollercoaster just to keep me thinking? Well, I do not like it at all. Understanding my current condition and the way I developed after the fourth door is not happening very quickly, and the deeper I attempt to consider these circumstances the further from knowing I flow. There have been connections (partly thanks to Julia and what she has forced me to recall), yet the full meaning still somewhat eludes because it is so fucking complicated. I am sliding in and out of a mental and emotional cave fraught with damning thoughts and the dark caresses of death. The time spent outside that space forces me to peer in and try to see the meaning behind the lack of light. So confusing. Thank God I am in Vegas again. This is better than nothing. Sitting within the sumptuous Double Helix with notepad and cognac did not assist me all those years ago. Lounging throughout First Food & Bar with its enormous windows overlooking Vegas Boulevard combined with a beautifully sculpted and delightfully discreet bartender served to help for a time, but in the end solitude took over my consciousness and drove me from the large windows with fright. That was reality. This is not. Such a reaction and my resulting behavior were inevitable, of course. Many a night has been spent yearning and searching for the very special comfort which has eluded me for years. When I feel I am moving in such a direction, nothing can slow me. Nothing. Before running out the door of First Food & Bar so many years ago, I spoke to the bartender at length since she was not busy and I was damned-near the only person in the entire lounge. Our conversation started on the surface – as I would imagine most do – but quickly became much more thanks to my penchant for candid conversation. I find that babbling about the usual tourist interests is shallow, hollow, and annoying to those who hear it day after day. Instead, we spoke about need, desire, emptiness, and fulfillment. Her insight was astounding and I would imagine it grew from years of discussing any number of topics with those never seen before and never to be seen again. Some travelers seek much more than food, drink, and the possibility of monetary and carnal satisfaction, yet my current circumstance has found me searching for the root causes of my obsession and other dire needs that I have not been able to live without. I should have stayed much longer that night, though. The girl was the epitome of a Vegas confidante, I tell you. She was art to the nth degree. Mercy. I wish the restaurant in question was still there. She may have been able to help with this door. For now, I shall sit here, gaze at Jennifer’s gorgeous form and flowing hair, and drink myself until something changes. Perhaps I can have something to eat if my tongue loosens too much. I would rather wrap my mouth around Jennifer’s labia, but I suppose a Caesar and some bread will have to suffice in this netherworld. I mentioned doing something strange but fear is holding me back. I don’t want Julia pulling me out of this fucking resort. I need it right now. Bad. The barstool and huge mirror over the bar are allowing a view of patrons darting this way and that, the Spanish beauty (along with her olive-skinned cleavage) gracing the kiosk, and is helping to keep me from the prying eyes of the masses. This cozy corner is succeeding in providing a temporary feeling of comfort and belonging. In the end, however (and as expected), I already know all of it will melt into a haze of smoke, alcohol, and longing. Just another middle-aged wreck searching for comfort. This town is my sanctuary. Blending and disappearing in plain sight are so simple to achieve and so necessary that any explanation will fall short of the mark. The heat keeps the mind sharp and driven toward any set of doors. The towering plush invites one with a draw unequaled in other locations. Plush for the mind, body... Soul? Maybe. Mind and body for sure. That plush is deep in me and required from time to time in order to survive this life. I need it as I need nothing else. However long I last at this bar... Well, I have no idea. This creation is the work of someone else. Part of me, yet not. I mentioned the summer heat of Vegas and the doors... Those doors are not only able to cool and comfort, they may be able to save me. Perhaps one of these days they will. I may need more help than Julia can provide. Reality? Sure... Fuck it.
Thursday morning is here and my little, distorted world is in full swing. I see he is going ‘over there’. Well, probably, anyway. I don’t have an ‘over there’ any longer. Not for years. And I know why the former is likely taking place. I’ll have to stop thinking about it or today will be shot to hell. I can’t have that right now. I just can’t. At some point this morning I need to take a drive to the wine store to pick up an order, meaning I’ll have to be fairly organized with my time. I do not wish to be on the other side of the hill when the restaurants are open because there will be too many cars all over the place. That makes me uncomfortable. Shortly I will take care of half the routine so my arrival after the drive will be rewarding. Yesterday I came up with a plan to reconfigure the garage (large items), and working toward such a goal is going to take priority over other concerns. The idea is going to entail moving my huge tool box, one shelving unit, the freezer and my table, the latter having been in the center of the space for the last few years. This process will take time and requires that I empty and defrost the freezer. That is something that’s been waiting for us to use much of the stored food. I’ve also been filling empty freezer space with bottles of tap water to ensure that it remains very efficient. Part of the process for relocating the table began yesterday, too. The electrical lines and boxes have been removed from the center of the garage and reconfigured to be much neater. I also began disassembling the ‘housing’ that’s mounted on the table so it’s more usable once it reaches the new location. I envision the project will take more than a week and I’d like to have it finished prior to Halloween. I’ve decided to head over to the wine store now. Returning home will feel really good and I could use some of that today. 1000, straight up. The pickup has been completed without issues of any kind. I was in and out of the store at a good time. As predicted, arriving home again feels very nice. Time to organize everything and then head to the garage. The arrival of Friday has taken place sans fanfare for the common webmaster. What does this mean, you ask? Nothing good is on my horizon. That time has passed. There have been many years in between. Hmm... In-between. Will that shit ever end? Oh, and I was wrong about yesterday morning. He was not going ‘over there’. The destination was elsewhere. I don’t have any destinations anymore. I just sit here. I am beginning to think that the entire negative material plane affair is nothing more than a motivational tool to get me to alter my outlook to something more positive. I don’t see any sort of change happening in the future, however, because the shitty aspects of life and loss continue to pile with the passage of time and no one can stop them. The ‘good’ has already ceased. All I can do is tread water and embrace the little things while they still have the power to lift me ever so slightly. Another dream early this morning served as an additional reminder that the understanding does not exist. There was a really nice embrace, though. Really nice. There should have been three in total, but something went wrong in that dream world and two disappeared. Whatever. Yesterday I went a bit further with the garage work and will probably continue later this morning if the mood strikes. My toolbox is now out of the way so the table can be relocated against the east wall and I cleaned up the wiring a bit. I’ll have to think about the next steps for a while before diving in because once the table is in its new home, I will not have easy access to the wall behind. The toolbox was actually much easier to move than I had originally thought. Not bad considering it weights upward of half a ton. Interesting, eh? This is my life. I’ll be pleased once the table is relocated. Hopefully the satisfaction is enough to keep me going for a while longer. I need to push against all of the bad things that live in my head. Monday has rolled around again and part of me is overjoyed to be here right now, especially after missing a few days of concentration at the editor. The weekends usually entail driving to the City, meaning my mornings are disrupted. This morning has arrived just in time to keep me upright a little while longer. I need the peace and quiet of being here alone so badly that one more day of garage work or driving may have caused a blown gasket. The upside of all that shit is my garage is in much better shape for the effort. The fourth door hit me in the fucking face yesterday during the football game and represents the worst of the downside. Ever since beginning this latest, lamenting installment of the continuing story of the doors, I’ve been grating against Julia’s inference regarding the closet door, the way I think (to this very second) as it relates to that fateful day, and the idea that I’ve never been able to rise above the shit situations due to weakness. The closet door has become king of the fucking hill. Splendid. It hit me in the face yesterday because the more I try to distract myself from reality, the stronger those feelings become. The bottom of the whole shitaree is me nearly doubling over while maintaining a facade that weighs more than this fucking house. I am exhausted, so thank Christ there are several hours ahead for me to analyze. God damn does Alyssa have some breasts. Geez. ‘Come lay with me while we still can.’ I wish I had a single fucking clue as to what she meant. That dream was full of emotion, whereas the previous issues and scenes were driven mostly by desire. Well, there was the occasion in which she held me and I felt that the bad was finally going to go away. That was just a quick flash, though. When she stood on the landing and reached for me, the duration of the scene was much longer. I still can’t believe it, either. Stirring. ‘...while we still can’ is one of those lines I am going to chew for the rest of my life. Reality will never explain it to me. No fucking way. As always, and with everything else causing me to shovel shit against the tide, there is no recourse. None. I have to lump it. There is no more ‘like’, as well. Nothing good is on my horizon. Oh, everything is out there – somewhere – yet none of it is for me. I already know. What keeps me sitting in this chair day after day is beyond my comprehension, to be honest, and when combined with the beauty of her reaching for me and uttering those words, I am surprised to be doing ANYTHING at all. I just don’t know. The weekend was very productive regarding my garage. Everything along the back wall is in place and the only step left in that area is to empty the storage rack so it can be properly leveled. The big table is in place, too. I have yet to raise it because organization must come first. I am going to empty the cabinet that I inherited from my neighbor last year and get rid of it so the freezer can live in the same place. The old cabinet will return to the chimney, as well. I am much further along than I had thought possible in such a short amount of time. This is good. If I can get all the shit out of my head later this morning, perhaps the day can be productive. I need more ‘up’ and less ‘down’, for crying out loud. The garage is capable of providing only so much enjoyment before the past takes over and leaves me sans strength. I don’t want any more of that shit right now. Too much fucking pain. God damn, Holly is so cute sometimes. 0901. I have yet to do anything aside from sitting here thinking and typing. My show is playing on the right-hand display, as always. Once the coffee is gone I’ll move to the housework and then maybe the garage. Now that the process of rework has begun, I can dive into anything related, and that means items which can be donated or tossed, as well as moving the heavier stored crap forward to be replaced with the lighter items. That will facilitate the removal of the center column that I installed a few years ago. It’s funny how my mind has changed over time. Anyway, I’ll be into the housework very soon. Reconfiguring the garage is very tiring, but I know once everything is in place it will shine. I had another dream about her. It was very different from the previous occasion. She was different, too, yet I don’t know how to describe the feelings or what I was seeing right next to me. And were we ever close... Right there whispering into each others’ ears. Something had been going on and I think I was trying to help. Aside from that, I really can’t recall anything. Being close to her is amazing. Too bad it will never be real. Today is Tuesday and I am overjoyed to have several hours ahead for whatever I wish to do. Yesterday went as I had hoped in that I switched the heavier items for lighter stuff on the upper shelves. Once completed to my satisfaction, I went further and emptied the shelving unit on the back wall, leveled it, and then returned most of the stuff to the shelves. Overall I’ve created a bunch of space, not the least of which is a mass of things that will be picked up by the donation center next Monday. The process took hours, although the benefits are knowing where everything is located, having all of the holiday stuff at the ready, and the ability to remove the center post (which was to be the most difficult operation of the entire affair). I may not do much out there today because I don’t feel very well about life and have no wish to expose myself to other people right now. Moreover, the dream from early this morning is affecting my outlook, like always. I don’t see anything good happening, ever, and eventually this mindset will bleed into the way I communicate. Good or bad as it may be, I have to remain mindful. I have laundry to wash, too, so I’ll have to go out there in a little while and ensure there is adequate space for the clothes. The fog outside is thicker than pea soup right now. Visibility just south of here was reported as only a few hundred feet. Ugh. Cool weather is good for working around the house, though. I’ll have to get away from this infernal machine and take care of a few things very soon. I pulled apart the lighted base for my three huge vodka bottles prior to closing the garage for the evening yesterday with the intention of adding a few strips of light and ensuring that the assembly will sit level when I install the shelf. Maybe I can get it back together while washing clothes. I’m not in the mood to see people, so once I transition to the laundry and related organization, the door will be closed. No one listens to anything I say, so I see little reason to be near them anymore. Yesterday was a prime example of the way I am ignored and/or disregarded, and as I’ve stated on many occasions, if I am made to feel unimportant, the way I treat other people becomes very harsh and unwelcomed. The process is happening as I type these words. The negative material plane does not count, either. That place is different. Reality is paramount much of the time because I must deal with it regardless of the pitfalls.
‘If she was there, I’d go, too. I would go over there just like the way I see things playing out sometimes in reality. I would go to her every day if circumstances allowed for such behavior. I see it. I know what is going on. I know all of it, really. Unfortunately, there is nothing over there for yours truly. Bereft. Weak. Angry. But? I would go there. And? I would go much further for her.’
Wednesday. All of the usual crap is in place. Coffee... Whatever. I am tired. I went a bit further with the garage reorganization yesterday. The cabinet is outside on the driveway, empty. I am going to empty and defrost the freezer later this morning and then move it to its new location. The small mural is already in place, too. I have to fabricate a unique shelf for holding stuff above the mural and freezer. Everything is in pretty good order after making space for laundry, so today I won’t have to go crazy trying to get everything in order.
‘I was there. No, not the same location mentioned above, but elsewhere. I was exactly where I so badly needed to be, and the wonder took over. I thought of Ashley, too. I always thought of that girl when I was in such a place, and the day in question was one for the ages. I turned half my life upside down, escaped everything and everyone, and shut off communication in order to find that place. I was right fucking there and will never forget it. And? That was the second occasion. A line from the first... ‘I knew it’. I did know. The information was right before my eyes prior to that horrible day. I went over there and knew of the consequences. I also knew that the fourth door was the reason. Unfortunately, I did not put two and two together for many years. Now everything is gone. I should have remained at that precise location for as long as possible and then slammed the door on life. Regret... One of the two thieves that have robbed me of a future. The other is fear.’
1116. I successfully completed the daily routine and went through both of the vanity drawers. I haven’t reorganized that stuff for years, so the result is not only everything in good order, but more room in the hall closet. I’d like to clear at least one shelf in there so the sheets can be stored. The process will take time, much like reconfiguring one of my cabinets in the dining room. There are items which will be donated next Monday, too. I’ll have to get into the cabinet and see what develops. I absolutely LOVE creating more space in the house. It leads to space in the garage, which, in turn, yields even more storage possibilities inside. I did a bit of research and learned that the first appearance of the word ‘nothing’ within the site was March 6th, 2002. The previous sentence contains appearance number 5209. Just a thought. Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. He would have been 83. Yesterday was also the 34th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake. So sad. I remember my grandfather was on the phone with his brother-in-law who lived in Newport Beach at the time. As my grandfather looked out the dining room window, he exclaimed, ‘Ricky’s car is about to jump off the street and onto the lawn! It’s the big one!”. I will never forget that day. The world needs a gigantic toilet flush. People just don’t fucking learn, ever. I’d press the handle but my power has been removed by other people. My power is gone for good.
Thursday, I see. Just like nineteen years ago; I saw. Never mind. The hour is early as of yet, just 0810. I have the bulk of the day to myself. After yesterday’s progress in the garage, I may lay off some of the work today due to the weather (again). The temperature outside is already more than ten degrees above the ambient inside. That means there will be plenty of heat later. I will not work in that shit. I have plenty to do inside the house, anyway. As for yesterday, well... There was wonder and beauty, neither of which had much to do with me. I lived through yet another fucking situation in which I was exposed to beautiful things for a while only to be expelled out the other side secure in the knowledge that there is no longer any ‘good’ on the horizon. All I will experience is that of other people, mostly at a distance. Afterward I will retreat, fall on my stupid face, and attempt to find some enjoyment. Sometimes I am closer than others. The end result never changes, however. It is ‘the way of things’, and the damage is cumulative. Trust me... All is burning away. The donation people are coming in four days. I have most of the items ready to go and will add a few here and there as the days pass. I am overjoyed to see the garage sans columns and nearly wide-open through the center. My neighbor informed me last night that the motorcycle, extra parts and spare engine can all go back into his garage anytime. That is fucking excellent. Between that stuff and the donations, my space is going to be very clear. Always in the background, I am going in circles. Only the real space benefits, not my head. Nothing is over. The train cannot stop, ever. I will work out there today despite the lingering negatives, disastrous situations which leave me heartbroken, and lack of future promise. The way I see it, if my life is going to be so thin, I may as well be as comfortable as possible. When the coffee is gone, I’m going to empty and defrost the chest freezer. Forward progress is never bad. ‘The most beautiful girl in the world picks my ties out; eats my candy, drinks my brandy.’ Hmm... Indeed. Where the hell is she? 1125. My routine is finished and I pulled all of the water bottles out of the chest freezer. A few more items made their way into the kitchen, too. I am very close to defrosting the unit and starting from scratch. All of the water bottles will rest at the bottom so any food does not reach down so far. Once everything is in place – including moving the freezer to its new location – I’ll fire it up and await refilling the top half. Moving it across the garage will allow me to place the wooden shelving unit against the chimney where it previously lived. The west and south walls will be in good order, finally. After Monday, the amount of empty space in the garage will be amazing. Donations... Gone. Motorcycle and boxes of parts... Gone. Motorcycle lift... Gone. I am looking forward to seeing the entire weeks-long project come to a close. Curious; three years ago I was all-in for making the garage a second office and work space at the same time with no aspirations of parking in there, whereas now I want the entire center area clear. I will never be able to build the trike, however the space will be available just in case something good actually comes along in my life. For some reason, I’ve been fairly uncomfortable (physically) throughout most of the morning. I don’t know what brought on this anxiety, but to deal with it I poured a nice cocktail. In addition, at some point while doing my housework, a movement seems to have affected my back. Insult to injury, and all that shit. You know. I really don’t need any more fucking problems, so I guess I’ll sit here and relax for a while before heading in another direction. The house is still cool and comfortable. One of these days I’ll have to get the hell out of here for a little while. I think about going somewhere when I see cars drive by. The electronics store is gone, a few of my favorite lunch spots are gone, so finding a direction is more difficult than ever. 1300, straight up. I slid the freezer a little bit to see if removing all of the water bottles helped enough for me to relocate it without tipping. As long as the unit remains upright, it will not have to sit for a day to normalize. I’d prefer to power it up as soon as possible. Maybe when my drink is gone I’ll head out there and slide the fucker across the floor and disconnect the power. I need to French kiss Holly’s labia for an entire day. Splendid. Shoot me. I don’t care. External forces created the way I think these days. Blame them. Anyway, if I can slide the unit fairly easily, the move will allow the wood cabinet to be placed back where it was at the foot of the chimney. The temperature out there is not as high as I would have thought when the sun rose this morning, so moving a few things around the garage might be easier than I’d predicted. Maybe the breeze is helping. Moreover, one upside to this day is that I saw the au pair in her jeans moments ago and felt absolutely nothing. She must have been no more than a phase. This is very good. The more I obsess over what I see, the closer I come to the end of the world. Less is more, as it were. As for the weather, I’m sure this will be one of those days in which the house warms for a few hours and then ends up much warmer than outside. As long as the air is moving, all will be fine. I am really looking forward to preparing dinner with my friends in the background, too. Regardless of whatever heat may develop inside, I am going to embrace the evening. I need it. Good things are happening to the house and garage, and I simply MUST appreciate all of them. Dinner and my show later are no different. I’ll head to the empire very soon. Moving back and forth between the negative material plane and reality would seem to be my destiny. Isn’t that just fucking peachy? I am half a person, or less. Ugh. Holly shares the facial trait that drives me up the fucking wall. I still can’t explain it. Maybe there is no such explanation. And maybe I can’t follow a single line of thinking without being continually distracted by beauty. As I said... Peachy. Half. Broken. Waiting. Friday morning, 0801. Coffee. Sideways. Nothing is going to happen here today. Saturday morning, 0845. Coffee. Sideways. The drive came and went without issue. Oh, there was the typical contingent of wing-nut drivers, but overall I arrived at the destination and then exited the city sans problems. I am overjoyed to be home again. The daily routine will be started a bit earlier than usual because there is a college game starting soon and I am concerned about the outcome and the way it may affect my team later in the season. My pro game is not on until Monday night, so tomorrow I’ll be relegated to watching some other games as I pass the time and do my housework. The weather is again very cool and will help as I continue the new garage configuration. I am rather looking forward to Monday when the donations are picked up. That’s going to leave a big hole in the center of the floor. As for the freezer, there are only a handful of items left. I should be able to pull the plug today and then finish the project tomorrow. There are college cheerleaders in yoga pants on the right-hand display. This shit just never ends. There will always be something pressing me down. 1038. All of my usual morning work is finished and I moved a few things around in the garage in order to make room for dry cleaning. I also have one load of laundry to do. Aside from housework, there are still three lighted strips that need to be connected. After reconfiguring the garage, I had to move some of my displays and have yet to hook up power. I’m considering running a trunk line around the top perimeter just in case things are added later, plus the existing connections can be tied to the trunk so everything is a bit cleaner. Writing about the goblet causes my heart to run through the gamut of emotions, from those desperate, suicidal ideation-laden dashes to the warmth and comfort of knowing I could escape the norm and disappear into a gigantic, money-driven machine and become no one. I feel happy and sad at the same time. On the heels of those two, there is another, more depressing realization that I may never be where I need again in this life. Too much has changed, mostly me. The fact that restaurants that I loved for many years continue to disappear is very sad, but the processes inside me are vastly worse. I fear that if I visit that wondrous town in the future, my perception of everything will be so skewed that I may not find the necessary comfort that seemed so easy in the past. This is not good, people. A pair of very well-dressed Jehovah’s Witnesses visited a few minutes ago, and despite the appearance of a nearly four-foot pentagram on display inside my garage, they were very pleasant and welcoming. Unbelievable. I am always polite and pleasant toward those who move from one door to the next with the intention of gathering souls into the fold, but I must admit that inside my head were carnal thoughts that cannot see the light of day. Even the older woman who read scripture to me, believe it or not. I was attracted to her adorable smile and smooth skin. Such thinking has clearly informed me that the path they try to steer others toward is now completely alien to me. I have no reason to be impolite or unpleasant, so I try to listen and then gently shut down the conversation to avoid wasting their time. The process may cost me a few minutes, but I honestly believe that being pleasant toward them is the right thing to do. I have all the time in the world these days.
'When evolution selects its agents, it does so at a cost; it makes demands in exchange for singularity. And you may be asked to do something against your very nature. Suddenly, the change in your life that should have been wonderful comes as a betrayal. It may seem cruel that the goal is nothing more than self-preservation; survival.'
Another day has gone by. Today is Sunday and I am back from a very quick morning drive. The alternate route north through the City paid off and shaved a few minutes off the overall trip. That was nice. Now I have the entire day to myself. In other matters, I awakened today to learn that the infernal Internet was down, and still is. My control center is operating via the phone like the last time this happened. I received a message from the provider informing me that they are dealing with the problem. Okay. I have no choice in the matter, so whatever works, I guess. Monday morning has come around yet again in the rotation. This is the 182nd Monday since I stopped working full-time. Very interesting. The enigma has been in my head for a while due to a program I watched yesterday afternoon. I saw similar lines, although the girl was not as tall as the original. Sometimes the enigma enters my head due to some errant reference, and then I can’t fucking get her to leave. The donations should be picked up sometime today (prior to two this afternoon), and my concentration should lie within my ever-improving garage. She has thrown a wrench into the machinery yet again, and I don’t know if my day is going to end up fully derailed or not. The woman is so incredible to see that one glimpse or thought can drive me completely insane. I don’t like the way the obsession affects me these days. I have recently realized that as time passes, my sense of beauty continues to distort, meaning there are less and less forms which stir me right now than in the past. I don’t know what I can do about this shit, either. Everything fucking hurts because they are out there and I am right here, presumably for the rest of my miserable life. I can’t be close to them at all. At some point this morning I will finish the coffee and then work around the house. I need her the hell out of my brain if I am to accomplish any semblance of work. 1117, same day. The donations have been picked up and I am overjoyed to have seen everything go where it is needed. Anything donated to that organization helps needy families, mostly those that have children with disabilities. I will be scheduling another date to have more household items picked up, too. The empty space in the garage provides equal satisfaction. Next will be the motorcycle and related materials. Once finished, the center of the garage will be completely void of any clutter. Along that line of thinking, after everything disappeared this morning, I relocated the bike to clear space near my workbench. This is a wonderful change regardless of whether or not the car ends up parked inside. Dry weather means it will live outside most of the time. The massive shift in the way my garage appears is very important for the nighttime atmosphere, with everything along the back wall visible and illuminated at night. Moreover, during the day I need not worry about whomever may approach the house because the messages on that wall clearly convey the idea that I am not a person with whom to be trifled. This is very good and a state for which I have hoped for a few years now. I am going to continue to work on small details each day to maximize those messages. The morning cocktail is beginning to loosen me. Thank Christ I am alone or things would head south very quickly. As happy as I am about the changes in the garage, there are still underlying issues which will never let up. I am compelled to demonstrate a change in attitude, as well. I need to show certain people that I am but half of what they may believe, if not less. Anger is perpetual. And... Wednesday. I have not spent much time gathering my thoughts due to working around the house. I successfully finished the freezer project yesterday; emptied, defrosted, cleaned and then back into operation. Very good. I also moved the old garage cabinet to the back porch where it will wait to be given away (or destroyed, whichever comes first). The space leftover from all this crap going away and being reorganized is wonderful. I’ll be heading back into caring for little steps again, too. Small spaces lead to larger spaces. Once my coffee is gone, I’m going to visit the market for a few staples and then return to do some housework. I need to go over there early before the possibility of changing my mind. And speaking of ‘changing’... Watching my latest program last night proved that whatever shift in my way of thinking that occurred last year is still in full swing and very strong. I could not believe the sheer level of desire during certain scenes with regard to one actor. The damaging dreams have had quite the effect upon the way I see other people. When combined with so many disastrous situations that create anger out of the clear, blue sky, I am surprised to be social with anyone these days. My condition continues to worsen as the clock turns. I can’t fucking do anything about anything. This is not only very sad, but maddening to a great degree. I’m pretty sure one day everything will come to a head and bad things will happen. It is only a matter of time. As of yet, I’ve been able to carry forward in life and please others as expected. If only they knew what goes on inside my head. Not good. '3000 miles from HER? 3000 millimeters would be ideal. Jesus Christ... The meaning... Right fucking there.' Thursday, 1043. My daily housework is out of the way and I have a nice, fat cocktail next to me. I also have a plan to finalize the dining room modifications by relocating one cabinet to the chimney in the garage and moving the shelving unit that lives there to the top of my laundry cabinet. The operation will require some reinforcement of the existing shelves that are above the washer and dryer. I may get out there later and do some work. The downside is that I must remove the speaker from the same location. For the next few months, I’ll probably only have stereo audio on one side of the garage until such time as I can procure another pair of floorstanding loudspeakers. The old, walnut units need to be protected, so the plan is to build another shelf high above the floor to hold them. I can wrap each enclosure so they remain clean. Back inside the house, the dining room will enjoy more open space. That corner has appeared quite cluttered since the cat tree was added. I don’t like it. At least a solution is in the works. The only caveat is motivation. We shall see how I feel later this morning. For the time being, I am going to relax here and gather my thoughts. The main reason is there are now two enigmas and I had a hell of a time handling one. The result is realizing that this is how I am to remain for the rest of my life... At a tremendous distance from everything I need. All I can do is ‘see’, rather than be involved. Nothing good is on my horizon. Get used to that statement. Like yesterday, I silenced the phone early in the day and turned it upside down. I do not wish to see or hear any notification of a message from anyone; text, voice or otherwise. This is a clue as to the depth of my pain and the fact that in the space of one year I have closed myself off like never before. Not good. I’ve always been a very nice, helpful person. Lately, however, I believe that my condition must take priority over that of other people regardless of what they may want or need. Next day. Friday. The daily activities are far beyond redundant. They are also rather ridiculous. Filling space? Or, conversely, something to type while I am trying to think? I don’t know. I feel like shit every day and sitting here in the morning is about the only activity that I find comfortable anymore. Daydreaming bothers me so I try to stay distracted. Dreaming while asleep is beyond my control and most of the time the dreams float away soon after and I forget. I keep seeing her (and others once in a while) and falling all over myself like a child outside the toy store window gazing at the most elaborate, expensive merchandise available. All I can do is look. I am tired of these continuing processes. Every fucking day, you ask? Oh, yes. From morning to afternoon to night... Nothing is coming my way. Nothing good is on the horizon. And don’t give me a blast of shit for being negative, either. I won’t fucking hear it. One of the dreams earlier this morning was actually pretty cool. Something about electronic test equipment. Whatever. Silver snakeskin and slipstream. Slip. I am losing it. No one understands and I think that is best. I won’t talk about it anymore. Snakeskin. Remember the blue dress? It represented a woman. I think she’s fucking dead now. The cavern? That was the inside of my head. The wind was the sound of my voice. And the fucking mustard? I won’t talk about that one. Live with it. If I am going to be subjected to the same shit over and over every Goddamned day, someone is going to hear about it – mostly the keyboard. The mustard is related. I’ve been squished, relegated, routed and fucked over for so long that the aspects of life which continue to bring even the slightest bit of enjoyment are all I cling to anymore. The steepest climb right now is finding a way to steer myself away from anger and toward something productive. Anything, really. Hopefully there can be a smidgen of enjoyment as I try to remain distracted from reality. 0833 on Friday morning, October the 27th. The only reason the date makes any fucking difference at all is because Halloween is in four days. Otherwise, every day resembles the previous. As for the holiday, I’ll probably have the garage ready, but will my head be prepared for the holiday? No answer. The last two mornings have been very cool – like down into the forties – so once the morning furnace cycle is complete, the temperature inside the house drops fairly quickly. Maybe I should do something other than sitting here in order to keep warm. Heh. There are always improvements to be made around here, yet as time passes I find myself caring less and less. The temperature is nothing to me. I can deal with the cold sans issues. I have lived in places that make this weather seem downright balmy. My head will be sideways on Halloween. It always is. I will see things, become very depressed, and then make nice like everyone else. The story taking place in the netherworld is affecting my ability to rise above the difficulty and care for my housework. I am completely helpless anymore, a frail wisp of what I once was, and continually shoved aside by people. The only time when I can find any semblance of comfort is while alone. Tuesday night, the holiday, will be wonderful for a little while, mostly while I get things in order. Later, however, life will once again come to the forefront, very blurred and dim. I already know. There is just no getting around it anymore. Sideways is all I have left. Sideways and a keyboard; dreams and disappointment. Dreams, indeed. They are ruining me and I am not at fault. Saturday, post drive. I used the alternate route like last weekend and covered half the town in a matter of minutes. Very nice. I still have coffee left, so sitting here for a while seems the best idea right now. As of yesterday, the center of the garage is completely empty. Everything has been relocated back to my neighbor’s garage, I swapped the two cabinets as previously described, and performed a general cleaning of whatever had been left behind. I also mounted the door to the side of the chimney so everything in that corner appears very neat. Overall I am very pleased, yet the inside of my head is actually worse off than prior to the big project. The usual... Seeing; dreaming; nothing. Disappointment in the world; irreparable damage that was caused so long ago that I can’t remember any segment of my life in which the related difficulties did not become the focus at some point. Every day, to this very second, in fact. My work in the garage and house does not fucking matter. It’s nothing more than ‘something to do’. Marvelous. Still, I am pleased to be at home for the duration regardless of whatever pitfalls may come along later. Eh... The motivation for the garage is probably the arrival of Halloween in three days. Afterward I will likely lose myself again because there will be one less aspect of life that matters. ‘That’s it?’ ‘What else is there? I got chicken burnin’.’ See. Desire. Fall. Anger. Repeat. Away we go, back to the bad place...
The view from my corner table at First Food & Bar. So sad
Shit. I hear her voice again. ‘I am nearly finished with you, my dear.’ ‘What the fuck does that mean? Are you going away?’ ‘I’ve tried; you’ve resisted. I can see the end of the road long before it arrives.’ ‘I still don’t know what I have to do.’ ‘Exactly.’ Ah... Shit. If Julia gives up on me, what can I do? Is there anything left for which to strive? Cocktail number three. I am still watching Jennifer move back and forth as she serves the bar and restaurant. She reminds me of those servers at the cozy brewery in Pleasanton fifteen-plus years ago and the desperation I felt due to needing to see all of the information. I had to see everything but knew I never would. I still feel the same way. The negative material plane may allow such an indulgence, yet in reality anything along such lines is far more distant. As time passes, my obsession continues to focus, my age increases, and everything that seemed within reach is pushed further and further away. The way I view beauty is so fucking distorted that the likelihood of anything real being where I need is for naught. I don’t know what to do. The servers at the brewery came along at a time when my obsession was forming, and the strongest desire I felt was to measure and create a database of sorts for comparison and to understand at what point the numbers became pushed far enough for the subject to become an enigma. That is to say a woman with dimensions that straddled the line between attractive and unattractive. To this very moment, I’ve only had two chances of actual study, the first nearly killing me. After all this time, I’ve come to realize that I will never be able to learn the solution to such an equation. Beauty is so far beyond subjective that I can no longer find reason. Moreover, the fourth door contributed to a type of future that could not have been predicted. I know one crucial detail, but it cannot be spelled out here or anywhere else regardless of which world I consider, the nether or reality. This is so fucked up that I may soon lose track of everything. Julia’s question is destined to go unanswered forever. ‘Jennifer?’ ‘Yes, love? Another drink?’ ‘I need to drink in more of you than I’ve seen.’ ‘I know.’ ‘So...?’ ‘I can’t help you anymore. That which you cannot see will remain as such.’ ‘But...?’ ‘I’m sorry. I have to remain behind her line and be your bartender.’ There it is... The beginning of the end. 'Can you be my friend?' 'Of course.' God bless her. As much as I'd like a mass of other things to take place right now, I suppose I'll have to obey Julia's wishes and restrict myself to conversation. Thanks to reality, I am already fully accustomed to not being where I need, not speaking of what is most important, and being left on the side of the road with respect to others taking me seriously as a fucking person. Sitting here and doing nothing more than chatting with the bartender should be a cake walk compared to the rest. One hand tied behind my back, and all that type of shit. At least I can stare, too. She’s lovely. Maybe I failed to appreciate the fourth door at the time. Maybe? I can’t say for sure because the memory is still stirring. Many other aspects of life and past events often drive me to similar thinking; as if they should have been more enjoyable while originally taking place, and now that I am decades older they appear much better than in reality. Does that make sense? Like that huge birthday dinner at the Roxy Bistro inside the El Dorado in Reno many years ago. I was told to cherish every moment because my past was being carried on and handed off to the younger generation and I needed to ensure their appreciation of such lavish nights. The fourth door may have been the best thing in the world at the time, as well. When I consider my feelings in reality and compare them to that day, I can’t help but feel that everything has slid downward since. ‘The issue is what you did with the information; a dream come true.’ ‘Ah, shit.’ I guess Jennifer has stepped in for Julia. Splendid. The fourth door carried with it details of which I dreamed for years, and shortly thereafter everything melted away in reality and I was left with nothing. And then it happened again. I just kept going back to that closet door in my mind. Nothing compared for a very long time. When something came along that brought me to a similar state of mind, I somehow knew it would not last and I’d be left alone again. That is exactly what happened. Soon after, I began to formulate alternatives and on a few occasions actually ran away to control the situations and find the understanding I so desperately needed. When I passed on the other three doors, the back of my mind flipped along like yet another Rolodex full of pictures of both the past and where I felt I HAD to be. Fear kept me in place because I wished to be near that closet door again... The fourth fucking door. A dream come true? Bullshit. More like a dream that was ripped away by other people. Now it is gone. I need to get fucking crocked in this bar. I need it pretty badly. I need help, too. I may not survive this trip to the negative material plane. I may never fully understand it, either. Not good. I want to play with Jennifer’s breasts. Like most of reality, though, they are unavailable. I hope I am correct about the fourth door. I can see it, still. I can see the green. And one detail that came to mind when I entered the steakhouse is the idea that I knew of the dream even years prior to the door. I knew it, spoke of it, yet was forced to shove it to the rear in favor of what others needed. Regardless of such a process feeling unfair, there was nothing I could do about it. I would guess the number of years to be three. I found clues here and there, as well. Discussions. Evidence. I suspected that dreaming was soon going to be all I had left, and I was right. Other situations followed that fucking door throughout the proceeding years, yet they were all slightly different than the first. My mind always went back in time to the first occasion as it eventually became the reference for the meaning of life. God damn, this is completely fucked. Julia is not responding, Jennifer is but a symbol of desire (and the past), and the negative material plane is slowly swallowing my entire life, reality included. I always knew my days were numbered, yet the thought seemed far away. Now it feels as if it is waiting just around the corner. ‘I think I no longer matter.’ Indeed. Mint Julep number four; Just like the door; No more in store; All is now lore. Jennifer muddles, mixes and pours again. This gives me an idea... The hostess. I don’t know her, yet she is very familiar for some reason. Maybe she is the one that stood there when we visited Aquanox all those years ago. I feel like being reckless, and that means throwing out a line to see if I get a bite. I am apprehensive, but what is the worst that can happen? Rejection? Or will someone come flying into the restaurant and shoot me in the head again? Will any of it even fucking matter? I don’t think so. I am stuck here like always, alone and full of regret. Well, there is a ton of anger on the heels of all those memories, so maybe when I speak to her and she responds in the negative, I’ll have one less reason to care about anything in this place. Perhaps the fourth door has ruined me. Marvelous. I think I’ll sit here and analyze a while longer before taking any sort of action. I can stare at Jennifer’s wondrous form in the meantime. That’s all I ever do, anyway. Fuck it. Let’s drink. ‘You’ve already arrived.’ ‘What do you mean?’ That just fucking sucks out loud. I’ve arrived? What the fuck? I realize my analysis has hit on a few key points and possible answers, yet there still seems to be so much more. Why is that? Will I be stuck in this gulag and questioning everything for all time? Jennifer is not responding to me anymore. It’s as if I am not sitting right here on this stool. Hmm. Did my idea of hitting on the hostess cause a problem? I don’t understand. Wait a minute... Everything is quiet now. I turn to see that all of the people are gone; returning to face the bar shows me that my bartender has also disappeared. The large, open entrance facing restaurant row? Not there. I see nothing but a wall. Ah, shit. At least my Julep is still present. I suppose I am stuck in this place. Have I wished to be here for too long? No answers. Does this mean if I want the salad that I’ll have to go to the kitchen and prepare one? Ugh. I suppose this is the time for thinking and analysis. No other options are apparent. Door number four has done a number on me. That’s almost funny. I still see that closet, the view of my truck out the window, and the green... Always with the green. Mint green. Maybe I obsessed over certain details enough to cause a complex to form inside my brain that became permanent. There were earlier moments, too; details. I am speaking of something over which I used to gush, a scene dating back to before the glow. There were problems attached to the way I felt, as well. Those problems came and went throughout the ensuing decades. Did I cause them? Was it the first shit situation? The second caused long-term irreparable harm to my psyche and the way I see the world. All that hiding... From the huge issue of trying to remain behind some sort of cover no matter where life found me, all the way down to little details, such as arranging my glasses and other items on a restaurant table in order to shield my plate, food and movements from the eyes of other people. Sitting at corner tables, always facing out; retreating to the backs of rooms to remain unnoticed; arriving at every single fucking event or gathering as early as was feasible so I could get a detailed lay of the land and scope hiding places. I had to be in an advantageous position from which I could see everything and everyone, while at the same time ensuring that most could not see me. Always hiding. Always covert. Always quiet whenever possible. That was the second shit situation, and there is much more. The fourth door yielded emotions that helped to suppress the first shit situation, and from then on I saw no other way to live. The closet door and a smile; the mirror and another smile. I can only use so many words, yet the point is pretty fucking clear. The first shit caused all sorts of crap and still does. Media, the general consensus of the mainstream, the bullshit I heard every single fucking day for forty years, and the capper... The portrayal of that first shit situation as a punch line. During the mid-glow, I wanted to escape the masses and live nearly three thousand miles north of here just to be in a place where I was certain no one would want to venture. The main reason was to detach myself from the machinations that hurt people as crafted by those who tried to lift themselves. Hiding in public places? The move north could have effectively removed such a necessity. Both shit situations could have been lessened to a great degree had I left this place. I can’t be sure, yet the possibility cannot be denied. As for the door? The cost of unburdening myself from the whole of society would have had a much higher cost with regard to my well-being: The fourth door would have faded into the background of life and eventually made to disappear. Black and white, everything. In fact, had my desired move come along when I needed it most, the fourth door would never have materialized. How’s that for a paradox? Would I have missed something that never happened? The first shit situation comes to mind every single day without fail. Every. Single. Day. I was staring at Jennifer due to the same, not to mention my desire to declothe the hostess. The fourth door stemmed from it, as well. Everything which made me what I am at this very moment, all full of confusion and pain while sipping my delicious drinks grew because of a ten-minute situation so long ago. The fourth door is also indicative of a few other personality traits that have only further solidified my way of thinking after all this time. I can’t go into detail, although I am now alone here and no one can possibly hear what I may be saying, save for Julia. She has all but disappeared from the netherworld. Now I have no idea of what to do other than sit here and analyze all this shit. Splendid. I will say that this is the longest I’ve been allowed to remain in the goblet without being ripped away to some other location. Perhaps I should be thankful. Now, if I just had a companion... Silence. Only the inside of my head is making noise. I don’t even hear the bar refrigeration running. There is no more piped-in music, nor any conversation present. Nothing. This is very odd. If that fucking wall had not appeared behind me, I could wander and see what’s what. Nope. I am stuck in the restaurant. Again... I may have wished to be here too often throughout the decades. Julia made certain to give me what I wanted. Ugh. Can I go into the kitchen and find something to eat? I wish that was funny. Do I know enough at this point? Is there to be more? Have I plowed enough shit, taken enough heat and felt enough pain? No, I don’t feel sorry for myself. I am working within and this fucking situation has very little to do with anyone else that is alive. I need to pour myself another drink. Ah... Shit. I hear something. 'You cannot survive this, my love. I'm sorry, but I've done all that I am able.' 'I understand your position. Leave it alone, please.' 'As you wish. There is but one thing left for you to see.' 'Bring it.' Flash!"
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