November 30th, 2021 8:02am pst

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The Resistance

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"And here we go just after the last one. This is to be the norm. Nothing will change, nothing good will develop, nothing will be solved. I'll just sit here and talk about whatever comes to mind.

0746 and I am alone for the bulk of the day. A few things to do but nothing dramatic or pressing. The usual. Daydreaming this morning just like yesterday, but today I have more time to think about everything. The dreams don't help, ever. They just bury me deeper and deeper underneath many years of life going awry. 0826. I had to edit the images for inclusion here. Lots more from that show soon. As for the remainder of the day, I honestly don't fucking know. Last night put me off quite a bit and I am still unsure of how I feel about the holiday. It is behind now. I don't know what that means, either. I know nothing these days and what little I suspect must be kept under wraps. Splendid.

Evan with the fangs. Awesome. I wish I could chip off a bit of that type of power, damn it. Now would be a good time, effectively enabling me to make a few necessary changes and ease the work of living. Eh, impossible. No good is going to happen. Perpetual shit.

The other point was slammed home during one of the three football games I watched yesterday. The last one, I believe. And I can't recall if it was directly related to the game or simply an advertisement. Not sure, but the point is the point. Slammed. Crippled. Minimized for all time. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Now the fucking word doesn't make sense. Did you ever do that? Repeat a word on paper or out loud until it becomes unrecognizable? Doesn't matter. The point is the point, mmkay? Mmkay. I am resisting the temptation to say what I really feel. Be happy. I need help but the proper type is unavailable. Lots of help, honestly.

The sun is shining again. It probably will not help me because I don't feel like being out and near other people today. I have to remain indoors with the garage closed. Sociable is not in my vocabulary this morning. Tomorrow I am supposed to meet one friend to watch a college game in the morning but I don't know if it's going to happen. Depends upon his schedule, I guess. The alternative is to stay here. And then Sunday... The other game. Damn. I don't know what to do. Doors locked. Fuck it.

Alone while near others, alone while alone, and don't fucking get me going on the idea that people know how I feel. Relaying such an idea means the resistance will knock you the fuck into next week. Don't even try. I will not have those kinds of words spoken in my direction. I don't give a fuck about research, either. Whatever may or may not apply to me is none of anyone's fucking business. The guns are watching.

Scrape-slingshot. Fuck. No resistance, but lots of other things.

They just brought up the 'French broad' [sic] again. That's kind of an old fashioned term I think. 'Broad'. When I see her, that kind of word does not come to mind. All I can think about are those lips and the way she tilts her head. There is more, too. I don't know... Something else but I can't put it into words. Maybe her facial expressions when she responds to being addressed. Cute, but I can't figure out the whole picture. Of course, I will not go into any other direction aside from saying her appearance is desirable. That is all. Third mention of her? I can't remember.



01


Gray area. Gray text.

Some aspects of life are beyond resistance. I try, I fail, but not terribly often and nothing too important or pivotal. The lack of consequences to whatever I decide these days does not help, though. I can pretty much do what I want, when I want, and answer to no one else. Good and bad. Keep in mind, though, that I am referring to simple things. Anything further is impossible anymore. Like the French girl up there. What do I think? Well, to be completely honest I sit and wonder how her inner thighs might look right there up close. Is that bad? Not really, but as impossible as anything else. There would be consequences to a situation like that, especially inside my head. It would probably blow wide open because NOTHING is EVER enough. Ever. There will always be a furtherance inside me which never plays out yet leaves me completely bereft of hope. Would I be able to apply resistance? Probably not. I would walk through the door -- nary a sliver of thought toward anything else in the world -- and then come out the other side as if I was leaving Ashley's little apartment. Full of sin, full of guilt, but still I would do exactly the same as if the idea was written specifically for me. I've done it before. Consequences? Zero, except in my brain. But the resistance would not fucking be there.

The other resistance is right here on this page. All of them, really. This resistance is an easy choice, though. Albert's jacket, tie and shirt combination is spectacular. Anyway, all the fake shit rolls on down the road like semi trucks with the real stuff packed up in the trailers, never to be seen. This is not me. This is no one. I believe the only time a person can read that I am being fake is when I say something nice. Think about that for a minute. Ringer.

I may have to go to the little market later, meaning I may see the little morsel at the register and picture her all crammed into my mouth. Basket case. Not horrible, but weak. Always weak. She is a person before anything else and I have to maintain my stance in such a direction or I will destroy myself. Being unhappy does not give me carte blanche to affect another soul. Not even ONE. That is wrong. I will smile and make nice (very good at that after years of being an automaton around so many people) and then walk out the door and picture whatever I picture. And then I will think about her standing there and moving on to the next customer or whatever she does while decidedly NOT thinking about the person who goes home drooling. Forget him. Please. The French girl is better off. She knows nothing of me nor will she ever be near. Excellent.

Oof. This entry sucks out loud.

0911. Bad number.

0935 and I am still sitting here because whatever I decide doesn't really matter anymore.

The holiday dinner was simple. We did not create a complex meal like those big holidays of the past. I kept thinking of how different life is now when compared to that of years ago. Not only did it seem very odd while cooking and watching the games, but when the time came to sit and eat my sense of taste was absent for the thousandth time. Very disappointing. The problem only seems to arise in the evening. Rarely do I find my taste and smell at issue earlier in the day. The combination of recalling past family holidays and being unable to taste dinner really slammed me last night. By the time I went to bed the sadness overtook anything remotely positive. I am still as such. Might not do much of anything today. Don't really care right now. Lately, 'caring' is very difficult and tends to sit on the back burner, all but ignored. If I can't help myself, I can't do much for anyone else. This is a bad time. Maybe after cleaning the kitchen I can heat a pizza, sit and continue the movie I started the other day, and eventually just doze off. Nothing seems to matter, and the lackluster holiday may have been the worst and most powerful catalyst of the last several months.

I feel so bad for Bobby's kids during the trailing end of season four.

Saturday morning, big games later but I will likely be right here holed up for the duration. 0616 with coffee and gangsters again. 0622, nothing between then and now. I have little idea what I am doing here sometimes. Typing, but why?



02


I have to resist the nature of what happened yesterday. Nothing terrible, really, but my day became derailed somehow not long after caring for the routine. Actually, it began during the routine, maybe ten or so. I sit here right now with nary a clue as to what was going on inside me yesterday. Whatever it was, I ended up almost completely useless on the sofa for the remaining hours. I barely had the drive to heat up dinner. This morning I can see the day ahead and picture all that can be done. Hopefully my direction remains constant. I don't want a repeat. Resisting may help.

I was supposed to watch one of the Thanksgiving games at the bar, and this morning I was hoping to watch one of the college games over there in less than three hours. I don't know, though. Putting up the tree and caring for the house are better plans, naturally, with the tree being most important in order to extend the season. The games reinforce the season, too, but leaving and spending time outside my comfort may not be a good idea considering how I have been feeling lately. So far, I don't know what to do today aside from resistance against everything with power over me. The game may simply play out here while I get things done. My brain is already all over the place just like twenty-four hours ago. That went south.

This is ridiculous. I have to watch out for myself, but is that what I've been doing all this time? Am I going to feel the same at the outset of the new year? No matter what ideas have been generated and shared in this space, I am no better than the last turn of the calendar. Maybe the resistance is backwards. Or, maybe I have no fucking idea what I am saying anymore. Everything begins but rarely follows any line.

0726 and I am in exactly the same position as an hour ago. Yesterday at this time I was just at the beginning of the alone hours and my head had descended into subjects better left out of the content. Suffice to say, I was overwhelmingly sad and reached for anything as a distraction. I wish I could spell things out here. Miserable morning. Worse than most because of the holiday. Here I am sitting and watching football, basically alone. Maybe I should have gone to the bar. I don't fucking know. Nearly my entire family is gone, as is the hopeful wonder of the glow. Looking back is almost impossible these days.

Resistance is futile?

0645 on Sunday morning. The Saturday business actually went very well. My game in the morning ended up being a huge, historic win, after which I felt completely as one with the Midwest again. The victory brought me back to meeting some of those folks just after the glow (kind of still glowing for a bit after we moved there, really) and their deep connections with the major schools. I felt something wonderful while visiting that place just a couple of years earlier and simply had to return and experience that lifestyle for myself. After so many years in this big state, I was ready to be on the fringe for a while. The fact is I have been feeling as if I've gone backwards for years. Yesterday after completing a decent amount of housework in preparation for leaving today wide open for football again, I found myself dropping off a cliff again. The Midwest feeling took over and I realized how different I am (was) than those I was around during that period. Adults or young people, really. Anyone. Of course, I realize I grew up a couple thousand miles from there where society functions on a completely different level, but the truth is I could tell from the outset that eventually I would end up pushed back here by my own limitations. Many of the ethics of the Midwest have never been a part of me.

Going to the bar on Sunday is a huge distraction from life. I am responsible for nothing, can sit and associate with or without whomever I wish, and focus upon trivialities, completely opposite being at home. The feeling of strolling in there half and hour prior to the first kickoff when everything is clean and quiet reminds me of all those occasions of my boss and I preparing the bar's two rooms for any number of events. It is a warm recollection, like the Midwest. In fact, it is the closest possible parallel to the college football period of the mid-nineties and the television show just afterward which I found to be sinking deep into my heart. Yes, all of that comes to mind when I sit and watch seven or eight football games at the same time. The atmosphere. Being within the fold of sports during this too-short season means the most effective resistance to everything else in life which drags me down day after miserable day. Yes, I said that. Everything. It is an escape from thinking, and one which I cannot fully express. I'll be there in a few hours, sandwich and coffee in hand.

I tried to create warmth of a similar type upon moving to that house in the Midwest. It took time to get some things in order, too. Lots of time. I worked at it here and there while in school but ended up seeing the bigger picture a short time later and gave up completely. I could not force a warm atmosphere like that which I saw and felt elsewhere. Not even close. Years later I tried again, but to no avail. After a while I simply figured the warmth had been either an illusion or something I was not meant to experience any longer. Maybe I made too many bad decisions and the possibility was taken away. No way of knowing. The 'higher power' crap along with 'in the stars' and all that other spiritual horseshit can be applied however you'd like. Go right ahead. Nothing will change over here. Enough of this.



03


0746. I'll get myself together in roughly half an hour, I guess.

Monday 0755 and I have the day to myself, which is good. Yesterday turned into a cluster for a little while but ended ok I guess. All my business, finished. Football was fine and I had some lunch. Nothing of note in the bar, which was expected. That is very rare on a Sunday during pro football season. Afterward, I exited and returned to finish off whatever had been left from the morning. By the late evening, everything was done.

There was an idiot at the bar. More than one, actually, but the closer of the two took priority and soon took over the entire room. An hour later she left. I cannot discuss the problem, but suffice to say she had been becoming less and less composed as time passed and eventually too much for a public place. Out the door. I felt pretty good about myself at that point. Heh. Resisting the urge to straighten someone out is difficult, to say the least.

Today can be whatever I wish, although the mood yesterday afternoon and last night may have a hand in shaping the time here. I have a few things to attend above and beyond the norm. Likely everything will be completed quicker than usual due to my need to remain busy. The mood will go further south -- and very nearly did last night shortly before bed due to a tiny issue on this coffee table -- if I do not keep it reigned in. The ability seems strong right now, though. I should be ok, just careful.

Ah the shit from a while back which I cannot unsee or unhear. That incident is now one of very few keeping me from speaking to people... Anyone. I clammed up last night, too, and a part of that is the idea that if I speak no words, others cannot take issue or comment upon whatever I may be saying. But that crap is still pushing me to lash out at people. Disgust and disdain are peaking right now. Turning my back on everyone is so fucking enticing, yet unrealistic. Those connections can come in handy for my own agenda -- whatever that may be at present -- and burning everything down might be permanent. I'll have to be certain before chopping things to bits. If I could just get past that Goddamned phrasing and reinforcement (not to mention the idea that there is so much more being retained by fucking assholes), the coming days would be much easier to deal with than the last couple of weeks. Yesterday even brought the shit to the forefront while around people I do not know. I saw it for a little while, although being there means I don't need to speak with anyone if I do not wish it. Watching is natural. Anyway, I cannot open my head and dump the trash. Nothing leaves, and that is not my fucking fault. Hence the mood and the idea that being alone is the only way. I have to apply as much fucking resistance while seeing those turns back to the way I used to live. I have to push them away before I push all the people away. I can't get past the shit, nor can I let it go. This is permanent.

0852. I have to go out later and help replace a pilot assembly. No big deal and a bit of cash. Not bad. I should be able to have things in order here before working.

The recourse has been failing and flailing, yet there was a bit of relief at the realization yesterday while watching football. I have no responsibilities there, plus I do not look around and see problems. Such a feeling is very important right now for my sanity. No one seems to understand the need for me to float in an ethereal space in order to feel any semblance of peace.



04


There are aspects of living with zero chance of resistance. I am broken and cannot be repaired, meaning some of the details inherent in going through the motions as I have for months are not only unavoidable, but cause more issues than I can handle right now. The recourse of sitting among others and feeling no responsibility is but a temporary fix. Everything comes back soon enough and leaves me at the mercy of all those problems from the near and far past. I am fucking helpless and cannot live as I need.

The site is still nothing more than a splash and shuffled words. The archive has been removed, as has the main navigation header. I don't want anyone reading this or anything else I have published in eighteen years. As of some days ago, nothing is there. The point of writing is not what others think, anyway. I don't like to hear about it, I don't trust what anyone says these days, and I don't need any brains out there thinking about this. I have no control over what people think, but if I publish nothing, they can read nothing, and that adds up to less concern on my end. A little flex, that shit. Deal with it. I don't care. So fucking sick of everything in the world.

I have to get up and care for the routine very soon because I am tired of sitting here accomplishing nothing. Or, maybe I'll sit here until work and then care for stuff after. I don't know.

0642 on Tuesday morning. Everything moves too fast these days. At the risk of sounding old, I just don't understand the constant turns toward the opiate which seems to have a tight grip upon the world. I don't get it. Some of the nuances and simple gestures which drive one point of media above all others are being overlooked out of 'boredom' because of the lightning speed at which younger people move through their days and relationships to programming which did not exist a mere twenty years ago. Whatever. Much is lost. Much more will be.

The work yesterday was fine and included a short tour of some of the property. Not bad. A bit of time there and then over to the bar to grab a plaque off the wall in need of repair. Today will be all here except perhaps for a ride to the hardware. I need to replace the shitty hinges on our back door. Other than that, the usual stuff and mostly inside rather than the garage. This may go well into the morning, too. I have only a few minutes before the morning business but will return here immediately after. I need to do something different on the main index and probably more difficult to decipher. I don't want to resort to the numbers, but if the mood does not lighten up soon, they will be all over the place.

"It is a most mortifying reflection for a man to consider what he has done compared to what he might have done."

-- Samuel Johnson

0730 and my morning has begun. I have decided to be out of commission for the day and remain hidden behind the doors and the rampart. Yesterday there was a bit of a strike near the pool table and I had to avert myself and reposition in order to keep her out of the periphery. Afterward I cooled off and left the table to take care of the tab, and there was the bright-eyed bartender and her sweet demeanor. Very nice. The girl is a welcome addition to the staff there. Friendly and outgoing. The strike by the pool table melted away by the time I arrived at my car to leave for home. That was good. I cannot see her pants now. Fucking lucky, I suppose, unless I am actually forcing my vision and thinking to change for the better (easier). I don't know for sure. The dancer at the close of this episode is one big muscle. Jesus, that much definition is so much fucking work and I respect it. Damn. Anyway, everything just went aslant as I spoke on the phone. Pushed too much or far worse references than I can handle and in greater numbers. Too bad for the world now, I am unavailable no matter what takes place. I don't care if an earthquake levels the entire city. I am not responding to anyone.

How in the blue fuck am I supposed to get back on track after such shit?"



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