02-23-2020 06:20 pst

Having passed the eighteenth anniversary of this site, we are thinking inward of the future. Small accents here and there will pop up along with remembrances of things lost. The Vegas Diaries may be better organized for those wishing to follow the content in chronological order. The main story continues below.

Also, the coma Facebook page was recently flagged for a nudity violation, so we have unpublished it for the time being. Worst case, it remains gone.

The Duchess and the Realm of Impossibility

Part Eleven

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"I do not want anything to do with a passenger car. The last one killed me, literally, and though I've died several times since, the fear never left. I cannot imagine what could be in there this time.

The goddess helped me, and although there were many statements covering all she had learned from me, the opposite is true. The primary lesson has been tattooed on my brain. She learned, but I am the one who needed it. I have been grossly out of balance for many years, even before seeking the ocean. Way out. Gleaning the idea that I would not have survived just does not do it at this point. I felt that way upon reaching the coast and none of it went away. With the first two issues leaning on my head, I already began to fall off a cliff. Add two more? Well, there is very little now. Do I continue working and seeking those little enjoyments? Or do I give up? Years ago there was an out but I was in no position to pursue an escape. Now it is gone and I feel stuck. Had I gone the other way I may have survived a while, however when I say 'a while' that may have been mere weeks at best. I did not change anything. But the damage carries on. Fuck. I am in worse shape right now than anything in memory. Even the run across the bay a decade ago does not compare. I am twisted so badly that I may have to hide myself away. The social media has already been shut the fuck down. The site is inaccessible as I write this, but obviously cannot remain dark. I have control over very little these days so flexing anything I can has become dire.

'God damn, the fucking vision of her lying there. Every morning was absolute bliss. Even that first day when the shower backed up and we laughed, I was so mentally far away from the rigors of life at home that I became completely unconcerned by any issues with the room. The highs outweighed the lows by such a margin that nothing could get between my head and our trip. We needed it, and I pulled the trigger without hesitation. As I sit in this fucking van, I swear to Christ I will never forget those golden days.'

Out the window I can see that huge dragon gyrating and spewing gas flame. Over to my right is an image of beauty and form the likes of which I could not have imagined before sitting my sorry ass at the Nile. And there in the distance, the damned rails. The last time I was at the controls of that train I sent Julie and myself up in flames by ramming the hotel with a boxcar of black powder. For a nanosecond, that was bliss. After? Groundhog Day. Over and over and over, but at least a little something changes each time. Chrissakes, I don't want to go out there but Jaime the fucking stunning duchess of the universe told me the locomotive is our destination. That draws a thought... Recharging. Yep, there she is lying on the sofa, out like a light, and plugged into the wall outlet like any mobile phone. Unreal. And like the surrogates from that fascinating film, she appears inanimate. Eyes closed, no breathing, no other signs of life. Did I mention gorgeous? My deviant mind immediately switches to decades from now and she will look exactly the same. That's different. For years I have listened to women discussing what their breasts looked like at twenty-five compared to fifty-five. Jaime? Hers will never change. Heh.

Wait a minute... Why can I now see the rails out there when just a little while ago there was more city? Where did everything go? A twist forms in my stomach as I realize that things are changing again. Fuck. The last many days have taught me to expect strangeness, but at no time did I consider the possibility of my most difficult trial returning and facing me while within the fold of warm beauty and the drug I cannot live without. As usual, I don't understand shit and Jaime is enticing beyond words. The combination of those two facts is enough to force my mind into dealing with our need to move forward and push Jaime's unending beauty away for the time being. I have lots of experience trying to keep my brain out of a woman's clothing, although the effort has often been for naught. The vein. The needle. The obsession. Three aspects of my fucked up personality which have placed me in the fold of wondrous, loving care before stabbing myself with failures. Over and over I ran my sorry ass off toward anything which had the power to take me away from life. Jaime fits that bill perfectly, yet I fail to comprehend the reality of her being a machine. It's wonderful and frightening at the same time. She is lying there peaceful and gorgeous, but I cannot just sit here and wait. Perhaps a bit of a heater would be nice before heading back toward the mighty Dracorum. I step to the duchess to see if there is any sign, and sure enough there it is. Her left wrist has a display full of information, including state of charge, hours, and right there is my fucking name. What? I dash for my glasses and return to find that the woman is imprinted on me. Fucking imprinted, and somehow connected to my mind. Holy shit, I had no idea. I also see a few soft squares which bring up all kinds of details about her functioning and the fact that she was designed around me. Wow... I am floored. Seventy-two percent on her battery with two hours left. The woman is electronic. Yep, I need a drink or four. Heh.

To the Nile with a head full of everything.

The inclinator is out of order so I have to go to the next corner. Along the way I see differing views of the lovely attraction level and many people marveling at the design. I felt that way upon seeing such a resort the first time. No one enters the pyramid without feeling at least a bit small. Down to the casino floor and there is the Nile. Juliette again. A smidgen of Ashley, too, although the clubs are not yet bridged. Oy. The male bartender engages in small talk and tosses me a drink with a smile. Check the watch... Not too long.


Issue one? All me, with its infantile beginning somewhere in the past. Maybe the woman on the show, perhaps the girl at the car wash, the server at the brewery, or someone I can no longer remember. Whichever began this way of thinking, I am within it. Issue two? All me. Everywhere I go, everyone I see, television, music, sports, movies... Every fucking day. I feel helpless. Issue three? Empty, failing. Soon to be gone, I would suspect. Issue four? Influence, history, weakness. I drew a line some days ago and time will tell if I can keep it behind me. Right now I just don't know. Rising from bed on a work morning takes all of me, so the issues have to take a back seat to my daily comfort. The combination of two or more can cripple me to the point of shutting down. I can't stand the feeling. Remember Dimensional Passion? That was born of the first issue and never grew into anything. I had a splash screen and business cards -- even handed out a few way back when -- and the entire project was halted before a single study was attempted. There were no connections or possibilities aside from the Raven, but She left this world too soon for us to make it happen. That goddess was the only one for a very long time. There was another, lots of conversation, but alas I could not do it. The opportunity was there with one of the most stunning women I have seen up close, she was willing to help after all the deep discussions, however everything went to shit in the space of mere days. That is another story. As I sit and ponder the wreck I have become, Jaime's fascinating role in this craziness soon takes over. Maybe I should wrap her in a seamstress tape. Not funny, but what the fuck anyway. Issue two flared once again and leveraged me into a corner with what seemed no escape. Upon cooling, the pilot remained -- and remains -- as I turned inward and chased the fucking source. Within? Like issue three? Four? Too much. In the end I sit here wondering if I can survive long enough to explore it all. Issue one just burned me again as a delivery truck passed and I glimpsed a ton of cuteness in the passenger seat. Can I get past this? Will it drive me out of my mind? Kill me?

Time passes while both passenger cars spin me into a froth. I killed a man, confronted the past, and was left to attempt understanding why and how that may have taken place. Julia comforted me, helped reach the destination (I think), and then disappeared. After? Dead and frozen. Another drink. Almost time to return upstairs and check on my duchess. No sooner do I gesture to close the check when hands caress my untied hair. There she is, dressed impeccably with red eyes. Holy fucking shit in a makeup case, Jaime appears as the end-all be-all of female beauty. She turns my head gently and plants a soft kiss as my bartender looks on. Andrea again. Seamless pants, silk on top, and makeup right out of an ad. Jesus fuck, and she is a machine. Fuck it, hands all over. God damn does the pressure hit the fucking cap immediately. Jaime senses my mood and drops cash while pulling at me to leave. To the Dracorum? Nope... Right back to the lift and my home thirty floors up. Upon reaching the room, the duchess reads my mind like the stunning machine she is and draws the need out of me quickly. She does not cease the lip action while leading me to our sofa. Sit, pants flying, caressing my damaged past, and then she stands in that five-foot-ten glory and lovingly eases her body out of the clothing right down to lavender lingerie. Holy fuck. I stare as she looks to me for approval with hands on hips. Unreal, like Andrea in the Polynesian. The curves, the way her thong sits evenly over olive skin, the void below her breasts, and the intimate radii leading my hungry eyes up and around the precious heroin. Compounds along her slender, inner thighs that make all sense in the world fly away.

Jaime turns halfway around and I begin to feel tears remembering the angel. Only few have been as such, and when the doe-eyed goddess stood in such a manner I nearly lost my mind. Right before my eyes. Right there... All of the lines and smoothness over which I had obsessed for so long. Right there. And as much as I needed to capture imagery to file away, I could not do her justice. God damn, eye-level and stunningly beautiful. I may never see that again. Jaime remains still with hands on her hips and I have to drop to the carpet and stare. Straight on, seeing the lavender material splitting the line and evenly dividing her cheeks before diving down into that private space. Just above the waist of her thong, another little display is dimmed. I run my fingers over what seems to be a flexible window embedded in her smooth skin. Amazing. How many times did I dream of a gynoid or some other type of artificial being? Here she is as a combination of so many others that reside in my heart. The more I look at her incredible form, the less control I feel over my future. I have lunged and pushed myself into the most horrendous situations over what I am seeing. The draw upon me is unending and uncontrollable. Again she rotates herself to allow my exploration with pressure beginning to bring that familiar discomfort. Jaime's eyes display such compassion, I'm losing it. She cares, and I can sense that my worry is misplaced. The woman seems to care deeply and has the ability to telegraph volumes with a single expression.

And then she takes over.

Jaime places me back on the sofa as I stare at those huge globes hanging in my face. Hands. Reaction. Nipples pressing the silk. God damn it all, she is not real, but then again the warmth and softness seems as such. To hell with convention. And now her hands pull at my shorts and I am completely vulnerable. A smidgen of concern over her being a machine, however that melts away the instant she touches my damaged past. Holy shit, she might be warmer than normal. What? Who cares? Before I can overanalyze everything that has taken place, Jaime's gentle caressing moves me outside myself in the best way. And then she plunges like Andrea. Holy shit, I am reminded of those pancake mornings in Florida when the angel bargained her mouth into having the breakfast she loved. Waves of passion -- then and now -- send me into the clouds with force. Jaime releases her hands and reaches back to unhook the silk and that pair stares at me like the most beautiful searchlights in existence. I can take little more. Soon? Everything. Heroin, legs, curves, and all over the room. Juliette again, right down to the lavender. Pain, and dreams of the goddess with her endless loving care and understanding.

Back to the bed to lie down and rest.


Jaime wraps herself around me while whispering supportive words into my ear. I could swear she is real. Her scent, sweat, the smell of her hair, all of it is mesmerizing. As I lie next to her, the visions take over. From that first glimpse of Juliette in the bank with her breasts straining the blouse and a huge mass of dark brown hair, to Ashley lying there nude and slender in her apartment, to the image of the goddess standing patiently and allowing me to stare and study her incredible inner thighs, I am beginning to feel that the Cherry 2000 dreams throughout decades have been tattooed here and there due to what has been right before my eyes so many times, and the fact that I will likely be without such bliss for the remainder of my life. I have to keep looking at her and appreciate each second. I must remember every vision, all of the curves, and the feeling that she wishes to be there just as we are. She chose it, albeit that was the wish of a machine designed to please my senses, not a real woman with feelings, fears, desires, and emotions. There is no heart or soul. And that is the fucking clincher. The goddess was tiny, yet she contained a huge heart without limit. Her demeanor was amazingly bright and beautiful nearly every moment of every day that I saw her. And her passionate nature was unreal. Eyes, big and stirring. Affection without end. Stunning. Jaime is similar, but as I said... Artificial. Could I live with such a being? Could I find warmth? Who knows? Right now she is calm and quiet, warm and wonderful. Other than the display and seeing her plugged in, I would not know the difference. Bliss? Ignorance? Whatever. I do not care. The woman showed me love and caring unlike anyone in the past. Of course she did. Machine. Still? I do not fucking care.

Jaime and her dark eyes clinging to me, we step out and I pause to gaze at the attraction level one more time before heading to the hotel in which I died several times. Not something I want to do, but at least I have support. Jaime stayed that she is glued to me for the duration. Hmm... A beautiful woman on my arm in the goblet. That's different. Heh. The last time I strolled through resorts with beauty next to me was amazing, bright, and wondrous. The goddess, and holy Jesus did she look stunning at every step. Sigh.

To ground level and the big foyer. My friend the Sphinx looks on as always. A stalwart representation of the excess that is Vegas.

As we walk along the boulevard north toward one of the largest intersections in town, I am reminded of that journey from the resort to a small strip mall just a block away when the goddess and I took to the heat for some alcoholic staples for our room. Holy shit, the weather did not make that trip easy, and with my penchant for wearing black, well... Suffice to say that upon returning to the casino for lunch in the conditioned air found me guzzling water like a champ. Oy gawd that was a tough one. She and I had a similar understanding of how to maintain health in that climate and supported each other every day. Wonderful. The night never ends in this strange place so all of the lighting toward our destination really stands out. The huge sign announcing events at the MGM is the size of an entire building. Jesus. Jaime holds on with a smile as I try to wrap my head around being on a train again. A nice, slow walk in the mild air is ideal for considering the circumstances once again. I need the comfort of Jaime's artificial warmth next to me as much as I need to understand why another train has to be involved in this sordid, sullen journey from another world. The car sitting alone out there in the desert scares me. At least I have not heard that ethereal voice and its pressing, questioning commands.

A peck on the cheek and squeeze of my hand tells me that Jaime's company is not going to cease. Thank Christ. Every step closer to the massive dragon brings more trepidation. I need her and she knows it. Past the castle, and there he is, spewing fire and looking as menacing as ever. I avert my eyes and follow Jaime's straining gait, thinking of the night (night?) before when her loveliness was all over me. And then the red eyes. Holy crap, a machine designed around my insane experiences and deep desires. God damn is she ever beautiful. Hand in loving hand, we enter my place of multiple deaths and head through the lobby. No Jennifer hanging near the restaurant, and no sign of Jessica at all. Right on through with nary an occurrence. As much as I'd like to further investigate the hotel and all of the odd things which raised questions for the last several days, we have to get to the back and the security provided by the big machine. Jaime is gripping my hand and nearly causing the blood flow to cease. I realize that she knows what has been going on with me in this place, however the woman has not been on the train of my life and I have to keep that in mind. Outside the hotel there are few milling about, mostly those using the self park garage. Beyond that is literally nothing. The twist tightens as thoughts of scorpions and death flood my head. Jaime feels a squeeze of my hand and immediately turns to me for support. Between the rumbling locomotive and the noise in my head, finding the concentration to operate the damned machine is going to be tough.

And there it is, right where Julie and I rammed the buffer. My locomotive, again. It's the big six-thousand horse monster, idling and awaiting my commands. Lights dimmed, nice and clean, and alone on the trackway. I love it and hate it. To the ladder.


'Everything is gone. All of the family gatherings, holiday parties, connections with all those elders who illuminated the past and what it means today... The entire world I knew is gone. Right now I see things as they were in the mid nineties and the gradient is traumatic. I do not know if I can move forward into my own future with any semblance of positivity. The only option -- the worst and best at times -- is to get things in order and fucking flee to my death. I cannot handle the world of now as compared to the world of then. My family is gone. The promise is gone. Only the perils and pitfalls remain, and they are taking over my every waking moment. Seconds, really. From one to the next as any given day passes, I see all of them, the Christmas mornings that were the epitome of the year, the Thanksgiving arguments which scared the shit out of me, and those many visits by my great uncle on quiet Sunday mornings when he dropped by the house to share coffee and catch up. He was the first in recent memory to leave. Others followed, I paid attention, but still the now stands as far too different for my calculating and sodden head. I see many aspects of life then as compared to now and can no longer hold myself up. Work has to go away, my things have to burn, and I have to die. At this very moment I am listening to a composition which came from my mother's taste in music during a day spent in an electronics store in Dublin. We were waiting for my dad (rest his soul) to work out some details regarding our home theater. Mom and I were milling about the showroom and speaking of random things when a piece of music in the background grabbed her attention and took us away from the atmosphere immediately. We listened, I located the source, and popped the compact disc out of the player to learn of the artist. From that day forward, I became exposed and subsequently enamored with the beautifully emotional nature of the music. Year after year my mom and I listened intently. We spoke on the phone often about the albums and artist until one fateful day when I overheard the song which birthed this paragraph.

Now I am ruined.'

The exposition, understanding, and availability of deep intimacy have been removed. There was an outlet for so much which helped me through daily trials that the loss is tremendous. The imagery, slighted nature of people's minds, and never-ending dysphemism-laced media will not cease, nor will I find another connection with the ability to ease the difficulties and lack of compassion. This is horrible, however the issues from one to three are partially and directly related, albeit in differing ways. Steps, worry, stress? Continuing. The soft kindness of understanding? No more. The whole shootin' match is gone and the likelihood of coming across that level of loving, caring kindness is about as likely as a real Cherry 2000 knocking on my fucking door. With issue four flaring and killing me from the inside out, the difficulty in my daily activities is becoming harsh. Rather than resting upon the idea of the understanding being there to hold me at times, all I can do is lament the loss. And I did it. Now the fucking issue is hitting me in the face like a boxer with daggers in his gloves. I cannot stand one second of myself when that flare takes place. I just have to do something about it, but right now my head is too fucked up to solve even the simplest of problems. I am worried like never before that what I have done is going to refract and converge within me in a very short time and result in me shutting down. In the space of days? I am halfway there. Issue one is not too bad at this moment. Nor is two. Just four. Dealing with this may be impossible. Like the deadly fluid, things might be uncontrollable. I need to think, but everything spins me and causes clarity to fly away.

I am not going to make it through this.

Upon boarding, Jaime appears a tad excited about riding in the big machine. Her childlike expression reminds me of when I rode the CSX locomotive and we switched cars at the automotive plant. Never before had I been on a freight train. She looks around tentatively, peruses the controls and seats, and then returns to me for support. Right there, all that beauty. Maybe I will just jump her in the cab and to hell with anything else. Heh. With her body straining my needs, I ease us out of the yard and to the remote switch in the sand. The iron gates slowly swing inward to cut us off from the resort. Switch thrown, reverse, and out into the vast nothingness through which I treaded for comfort and escape from the heat. We are rolling in the security of mass and settle in for a ride around the city. And I mean around. All the fucking way. Jaime perches on the second seat as I stare. When she notices my look, I receive a smile. She flips the hair off her sharp shoulder and stares back at me as if I am the world. Wonderful.

Too bad at the end of this ride is something I would much rather avoid.


Right there. The car sits in the phantom, glowing light and awaits my decision to enter. Jaime is tightly gripping my hand and seems fearful. Really? Her? I am scared to death of what may be in there... Again. The last time I nearly could not get to the door. I had been feeling my stomach doing flip flops and my legs losing strength as the entry drew closer. I feel none of that now, but Jaime the duchess electronic fucking work of art has the eyes of a doe about to be hunted. Hmm. I do not like this one bit and am about to slam the fucking throttle in the opposite direction. Julie and I went around and around the loop before I realized that there are few switches on this ghostly route, the main being a link driving us right back to the fucking hotel. Perhaps a ride is in order before I figure out what to do about surviving another hellish scene out of my control. To the controls, with the duchess holding me lovingly. Unlock, throttle.

Motion. Like old hat now. And God damn, the scent of Jaime is like that of Ashley now, with dark brown Juliette eyes and the soft expression of the goddess looking at me like only she could. Fuck.


Cruising the loop and watching the massive searchlight washing the entire landscape in bright light, I can only think of the car back there. Something has to happen. I have been wandering and dying for too many days, seeking comfort and rummaging through memories both near and far, that I need a change. I cannot just stay here and leave that fucking car out there and act as if nothing is out of place. It is there, and that means I am destined to walk into the fear once again and face it, for whatever that may be worth. As much as I wish to take Jaime in hand and just live my remaining days in this fake goblet, taking my meals as I wish, making the duchess into my personal toy, and drinking my sorrows away, nothing will ever change. Nothing. I know I cannot avoid the push of tomorrow. Just as here in this little fucking house, treading water solves nothing. The goddess taught me many things, but just one stands out right now. I need to find whatever has a chance of making me happy. Contrarily, I must remain open to finding that without assistance. More throttle. Forty. Jaime and her seamless fucking pants making me the shortest person in the cab. Heh. Six-one. Up there. Way fucking tall. Hair to her ass, breasts that push out to the sides when looking at her from behind, the curves all up and down from her knees to the heroin... Like the goddess. I cannot avoid staring. Slight pressure -- in my head this time -- brings issue four to the light of day as the passenger car approaches again. Once around the loop.

Jaime stuffs her tongue into my mouth. Wow.

Ease off the throttle. The phantom light dims slightly as my searchlight illuminates all in view. Slower. My stomach forces me to push the duchess away. I may be sick.

Cold sweat. Tears. Stop. Lock. Jaime's eyes are unnaturally enormous -- like Alita -- and red again. Fuck. I leave the locomotive at idle just in case I need to get the fuck out and away quickly. I have already been killed so many fucking times that fearing something doing it again is not there, but I have more fear now than in the snow and ice. I knew that was going to be a trial unlike anything before and it ended up being even worse than whatever my head manufactured. Julia fucked me all up by bringing that little girl in there and forcing me to see her eyes. Am I to face something like that again? With one hand gripping the duchess, I pull at her to follow along. Door, ladder, sand. One step. One deep breath. Two steps. Fuck me, I am so frightened. Closer. And here we go... My legs are losing strength. My back is hunching as if the weight of my own torso is too much to bear. Another few steps and I am sweating and distraught beyond belief. And then Jaime lets my hand fall. I spin to see her crying and backing away. She blows a kiss and turns toward my locomotive. Back to the car, my eyes see those windows glowing just as last time. Fucking hell. I do not want this. One more look back and Jaime is in the cab with those giant eyes staring at me through the small doorway. Okay... Breathe... Just fucking breathe. To the ladder.

Time to see."