February 18th, 2022 6:48am pst

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.




Gral Tranen

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"0746 on Monday morning, the fourteenth of February. Valentines Day. Okay. Meaningless.

Begrudged and beguiled. Tranen...
Blue and amber, amber and black.
She and her and them, bringing the attack.
Nothing more than a fucking lack.

Yesterday there was a reference to 'amber waves of grain'. Over here? This morning? Black waves of pain. I did my best, but then one can never know until after the fact when the shit comes down and the words become released like pigeons. I did my best. One can never know. The shit apparently came down and forced everything to be within a certain type of space, one with which I cannot agree. I can only do so much. The smiling face is not real.

The game was uneventful. Hardly anyone there. The cutie bartender was working, along with one other, yet still didn't matter to me. I showed her the radii image from the site in which the model shares a resemblance to her, and she smiled. Big deal. I don't care. She's always pleasant and that is all that matters. Five of us at the table. There was a bit of conversation regarding the job where I fell all over myself for that girl. Doesn't look like we will be returning there. That is very good. I need her to fade, go away, whatever. The more I speak, the less I am appreciated, and then the more I am angry. Well, I said I can only do so much. I just can't seem to strike a balance, but is that solely my responsibility? Doesn't matter. I still see her face and the fact doesn't matter either. Nothing does except being alone right now and left to whatever will keep me alive. The major rub yesterday was the premiere of a new car commercial which recreated the opening sequence of my favorite show, and none other than 'her' in the driver's seat. Nearly forty-one years old now, that one, but the number matters not. That is all I can say.

Full and empty at the same time. On the right. No might. All wights in the night... Plight. Not alright.

A friend of the end.

Today will be mellow. I have to go to the cleaners later -- I believe they open at ten -- and possibly the market right there in the same mall. Yes, that market. But I won't want to lick, look or jump anything. I will probably still feel the way I do right now which shall remain a mystery. Too many words have brought too many other words. The market will be quick, if I go in there at all. I don't need more reasons for people to dislike me.

Smiling face with a knife stuffed beneath.

The game was okay, I guess. Some funny commercials. Oksana is so thin, I swear. Or was, anyway. We all change throughout life. Anyway, I ate a bit before heading to the bar just in case there wasn't anything there. I kept thinking pizza would have been nice during the game but I don't know if they have stock after Saturday. Eh... Doesn't matter. I remained there for a short time after the game ended. I won money on one of the pools, too. That was great. Our team was knocked out of contention two weeks ago, so giving a shit about who wins is tough. The team we chose actually lost, yet I really don't care. I just wanted to be near some energy and to speak with my boss a while. The rest doesn't matter.

Tranen from the top to the bottom. Round spots intertwined with off-coloration and splotches. What I should have done instead of standing there like an idiot was snatched the object and dashed up and away. I wonder what the remainder of the time would have been like had I asserted myself in such a fashion. No way to know. The plane departed three days later. I was late for school and didn't care. I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life. I really did. Spots.

Red all over the bed. Tranen will be here soon. Tranen all over your stupid fucking face.

Do you like the coloration within the four images? I shot those during December of ten not long after the shit. They are raw, directly from the sensor with zero touching. The woman next to me cannot be seen in any of the five-plus thousand captures I took in seven days. Too bad. And now I want to go back again.

There is so much I can no longer write... The work is going to remain truncated, I guess. Nothing I can do about that, though. I am no longer in charge of this shit. I am just a fucking tool with fingers.

Jamie looked really stunning in that advertisement. Older, too. Fantastic concept.

No more rhymes, I don't believe. They accomplish nothing.

Work around the house today. No work elsewhere that I know of at this point. I'll do whatever is best today and then relax later, I guess. My life in this house is tiny and insignificant, just as this space will soon be. A match to the shit. All I can do is continue in the same vein and await the opportunity to branch a bit. Along the way I will make revolutions for disregarding some things in life until needed, and then engage the drive to push. Disregarded. I love it. Dis-everything. 'Dys', too. Fuck it. Why not? I mean... Who am I? No matter what, I am a problem. No matter where I go, I am a problem. No matter the words, I am a problem. See? So, why in the blue fuck should I be in contact with anyone? Will this situation change? Work around the house means alone, and alone may be the only way. If I am the problem all the time, why would anyone wish to be in contact or near me? Does that make sense?

God forbid another soul on this planet actually does something unkind or unpleasant. That can't happen, I guess. Unrealistic of me, right? Say it. And then shut the fuck up until you're dead.

Meaningless prowess. 'No more rhymes, I mean it! Anybody want a peanut?' I wish I could take credit for such brilliant silliness. Great film, that one.

Meaningless prowess regardless. Pull push. Right there. Do you see? I see. I see EVERYTHING. Maybe a few more rhymes. I saw everything. Can't say. Can't say it. I am completely fucked. Completely. You'll see.

0913.

The girl will not fade. Everything hurts and there can be no outlet, no relief. Mornings are already bad enough. I don't need more shit on the pile, either. The previous entry went all over the map about this and became one of the most haphazard messes ever. I don't know how I built that one. The dress, desire, all that crap. Colors. I was angry. Still there, too. Calling 'no joy'. I need her to go away or I'll fall down again and gush all sorts of stupid shit. Can't help it. There is very little keeping me here.



01

Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 3:43pm
Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm f16 1/1000sec


No more rhymes. I mean it.

Tranen on the one side and valen on the opposite. The images are about the only stable effect left. They are rather interesting, don't you think? That was the first day with the cameras down there in that desolate, downtrodden place. Half my head was in the lens and the other half was down her pants. Yep, again with the pants. I have to be honest. That long trip was likely the most worry-infused period in life. Even moreso than fifteen when I had a gun in my hand. At least the imagery from the Sea came out nice. Those shots are like my flesh. Precious, for the most part. And I loved her so much that I could not completely commit to the lens very often. Everything went to hell, but I've gone into that.

One pulled a bit, but not much. The other not pulled. The tranen times four, valen times two. And the four. The other four. Right there. Much like the closet door... I see too much. That other moment in Sparks, too. I still see it. I wish those three restaurants had survived this long. I'd go there just to look at the signs. One pulled a little. Fragile, like my existence.

Garbage trucks. 0952 and I've done nothing yet.

Tuesday. My arm still hurts. Yesterday was a partial failure. I am still having much difficulty getting through a day without problems holding me back. I felt tied yesterday until venturing into some road trip research. That was enjoyable. The trailing hours leading into the eyes flew by because I was trying to form a plan for places to stay without making the trip too long or going broke in the process. I still fell down over the failure, though. Nothing seems to help. Now I have to start all over again.

I mentioned the images up the page. That trip inspired my return to the Sea four years ago and is the driving force behind my wish to head into central Nevada with the cameras. The drive will be shortened from what I dreamed five years ago, however. That was ridiculous. The idea of being in the lens for days with few restrictions could actually help me, but rather than trying to find someplace closer to home, I need to be out and away in order to feel disconnected from all I've been buried within for the last two years. I honestly believe the therapeutic benefits of what I experienced at the Sea can return, sans turmoil. I need to revise that entry, anyway. Time to take it offline until such revisions are acceptable. And... Done. Only the title remains on the archive. Damn, Jamie had some Chiclets when she was young. Super cute.

I know what happened. I know what goes on inside. I know the answers to the questions before any are posed. Gral fucking bloody tranen. Live it. Believe there can be a door, approach the door... Key... Death. Tranen.

I know what happened. I know what goes on inside. I know too much.

0737 and here I sit a measure more forceful than yesterday. Not empowered, just ready to push in good directions. At some point I stated that I am a good person. Not entirely, but there is good present in me sometimes. Today is already one of those in which the good shines. Or, 'will' shine at some point. Even though my arm is still goofed up, I still feel better than yesterday. Everything inside is the same, but for some reason it is not nagging at me like most mornings. I plan to fully embrace this feeling for as long as it lasts.

Maybe she is one of those. Them. No, not the bad 'them', the others with immediate insight, as if they can look into a pair of eyes for mere seconds and read years. Like the race girl. Yes, her again. I forget nothing. That type of feeling is wondrous and frightening. The Raven always had a way of making me feel better no matter what may have been happening. One glance and She could explain everything. That may have been only Her, yet I still believe odd things happen out there. Always the eyes. I mean, look how I went on about the pair of eyes at the race. All over the map. I've been feeling so desperate that any little smidgen of a connection can send me flying around the world. I have to watch myself, too. This latest sighting already feels like something to be avoided at all costs. Ah fuck, this Goddamned singer on the television. Only in the background, but still. He gets on my nerves even all these years later. It's a bad one, too. Bad. All the way back before the fucking glow. Can't stand that shit anymore and I have enough to deal with already. I don't need any comments about that fuckin' guy. Anyway, my self-preservation instinct has grown in part due to everything damned-near down the drain for good just a few years ago. It may save me from taking steps better avoided. I will say right now that such a feeling while a woman looks at my eyes is the most stirring and crippling sensation in existence. I know not how or why, but likely it is a combination of my fucking stupid 'Shilo' mindset recurrence and the fact that the eyes are part of someone full of kindness, nothing more. My brain cannot stop inventing shit, but mark my words... The correct convergence of circumstances will most likely find me dead. If she is one of those, my resolve will be tested.

0800 straight up. I have to avoid seeing the 'Filmed in Panavision' Ground Glass logo for a while or I'll stand up and destroy my own television.

I went down an Internet wormhole yesterday afternoon doing research for the road trip. I found all sorts of cool stuff in and around the larger destinations in Nevada. The trip will be a loop, too, for avoiding retreading the same highway more than once. I don't like the 'drive there and then turn directly around' type of vacation. A long drive to the destination is fine. It's the return which will feel tedious. Anyway, probably two hours of sitting here with this machine looking at details of the route. I can't do that today. I have to remain mobile or I will not feel that the evening is deserved.

I keep seeing that face. No, not the one here in town. The other one, you know... The one that grew a twin. I can't stop seeing it sometimes. This is pissing me off. Somebody fucking stop this shit, please. I'll end up in the worst mood imaginable. There are the Chiclets again. Cute.

Fail. The Silver State is looking better and better.

Maybe I'm searching for too much. I was there, now I am here. That place may not exist any longer. Or conversely, maybe it didn't in the first place and I created it out of sheer need, leaving reality behind like a proper alcoholic basket case. Maybe? Even the fiction became partially centered upon that place. I was there and then I wrote about it, later feeling stories develop as they related to my dealing with life here, after which I had no idea of how to proceed in the aforementioned reality. Each passing day has me dreaming of that place more and more. This could possibly be part of the reasoning behind losing the drive I once enjoyed. It was second nature years ago. Difficulties were pushed in order to maintain quality of life and help the even better aspects 'shine'. I went through much in the interest of comfort. Things are different now, though. The past slices my insides to ribbons more than ever, all too often leaving me to sit here rudderless. I don't need to push as hard as years ago. Perhaps the difference is my deference. God damn that scene with Jeanne in the apron with her hair up. She was so freakin' cute. Where was I before commenting on the millionth woman? Ah... The gradient. Comparing now to then shows me that even though I had already been exposed to certain visions and such, the overwhelming torment and desperation was minimal. Now it is all fucking day. I have to make a change in order to continue the self-preservation, yet the first step has become elusive beyond belief. Damn it.



02

Capri Road, Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 3:44pm
Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 180mm f13 1/640sec


There was Debbie. With her it's not the beauty, although she appeared very elegant on screen. The Debbie key was what she said. One of the most profound thoughts I've heard, ever. Very insightful and intelligent, that character. Gorgeous -- yes -- but the dialog is what makes all the difference.

The tranen is waning, and barely forty percent into a standard entry. Unbelievable. I thought it would keep going until the fourth of this series. Damn.

I've already said too much. I know too much. Thinking of everything is often too much but I can't seem to stop. Too paranoid, too weak, too many pieces missing. Insides became outsides and ran away, or were forced out by circumstances. And I keep saying the same shit over and over and over. Repeating all this crap using different euphemisms or scenarios is not going to accomplish anything. Wait a minute... Accomplishing what, exactly? Did I think I could? I am not the 'little engine'. The time may be at hand for something different.

0659 on Wednesday and my arm is killing me right out of the fucking gate. I almost can't sit still with this right now. The incident years ago was a little different, deeper inside, and rendered me fine if I held my arm above my head every now and then. Now? Moving here or there doesn't seem to make any difference at all. The pain comes and goes as it pleases and even moves around sometimes. I don't get it. This new insurance I was forced to acquire does not really blow my skirt up, either. If I end up visiting the doctor at some point I will probably not be very happy about it.

I can't repeat yesterday's failure. Time must pass now for me to feel better about it, albeit that is exactly a part of the problem. There are no easy options anymore. Mixed feelings all the time... The face, the past, the narrowness of possibilities and darkened future, all of it has pushed me into less comfortable territory than I have been in since eleven. Sitting there during that fateful summer was not easy, and my hopes of some fucking understanding were dashed weekly. That was a very bad period. I am beginning to see the same type of space developing right fucking now. Just yesterday afternoon I garnered a different album to continue the musical branching which began last fall. The music relates to the mood, and the mood is driven by the current situation as it has been degrading for months. I don't know what the fuck is going to happen, although if I can keep my damned head up a while I'll feel a bit more secure in the knowledge that the future can be dealt with on at least one front. No repeat of yesterday.

I have the usual stuff today and then whatever (sound familiar?). This is so much more comfortable than the years of working full-time, too. There is no denying it. Yesterday after the routine I actually pulled out all the containers and packaged the decorations, finally. The middle of February and I just took down the tree. Heh. I had plenty of time, meaning everything is neat and organized, and that translates to putting it all back together this fall much easier. I also began to gather a few more ornaments so our yearly increase can continue. Mostly related to the show, too. I don't want to wait until the tree is going back up to find new ornaments. I'd rather pick one up here and there throughout the year so they can all be hung at the same time. I used to have five or six of the lighted models, but sold them off during the carnage of eleven. Many things that were once important to me went away that year, mostly in the fall. Those were some bad decisions, and I'm referring to a few in particular. My heart hurts over them. Anyway, hopefully I can move forward today with the new music keeping my head occupied. Yesterday the evening felt deserved. I need that every day.

The road trip shaped up more as of yesterday. It is a 1300-mile loop through the Silver State hitting a few key elements I've visited before, along with some I've never seen. The drive should be nice and mellow with just a few hours in the car each day. When I was young, we always seemed to drive all day to reach a destination and then the same on the return. Being in the car for seven or eight hours at a time is not good. Half of that will be easier on us and means more time at each destination. I had another loop some years ago but it was nearly double the mileage to hit some fascinating places. Well, that's too much at one time. The only way to take that type of drive is to fly in and rent a car, thus removing over a thousand miles of 'getting there' in the first place. This trip will be good for the cameras, too. I've been wanting to see the Extraterrestrial Highway for twenty fucking years now. I'm going. That's it. And back to the limestone caverns on the eastern slope and seven thousand feet up the side of the mountain. And the oldest trees in the world. And some relaxation. The drive is so enticing right now but we can't go until fall at the earliest, plus the main line through Yosemite to get to Mono Lake is closed roughly half the year due to snow. They do not plow it, ever. We will have to hit the road sometime between May and September or take the long way around (unacceptable).

I'm looking forward to being in the middle of nowhere for a week or more. There is Nicole and her sad eyes, even while smiling. I wish I knew what was going through her head sometimes. Eh... This aired almost twenty-three years ago anyway. Everything changes whether we like it or not. And sometimes those changes are forced with the leverage I used to fucking enjoy, damn it. Whatever. I was talking about getting the fuck out of California for a while, right? Everything pisses me off these days and I can't even get through a fucking paragraph.

For some reason, a song popped into my head last night just after dinner. It was a massive reminder of standing at the Tomorrowland Terrace with my dad during the early eighties. Might have been the whole family, but I can't remember clearly. The most striking part of the song and looking back to that time was the stage next to the terrace. Hence the song, as it was played by a cover band on that stage. I know not the name of the group, only the original artist. Thinking of the song painted pictures of what that area looked like before the huge remodel prior to ninety-eight. The stage is still there, I believe. It is special because it appears as an oval-shaped planter with some futuristic details, but then on some days during peak season the entire planter rises and the stage comes up out of the ground. It was apparently built way back during the early sixties and remains. Walking into Tomorrowland from the central plaza was the most amazing sight I had ever seen, and often the subject of dreams while I slept. That stage and the song are still in my head at this moment. Amazing. Stirring. I won't say the park was better before the changes of the nineties, but the park was better. I don't have a clue as to why that particular song entered my head last night, but I'll say it led me to the browser and old images of the parks.

Once again, an entry gone off the rails due to a combination of confusion and memory lane. I couldn't keep a straight line here if my life depended on it.

'Some sorta God damn trouble here, Jerome?'

Ooh-fa my arm.

I'm going to try and incorporate some of Death Valley into the drive. It's pretty damned far, but if I'm creative I can prioritize the route and perhaps drop one other destination. I've never been there with the big camera, but have dreamed of it for years. The last time I was in Furnace Creek was roughly seventeen years ago. That place is freaking beautiful. Anyway...

The sun is shining. Hopefully it will help heat the house. Yesterday was quite cool with the breeze. I guess the entire coastline has been windy for two days now. I could not work in the garage with both doors open until the late afternoon yesterday. Hopefully I can get out there and move some things around. I still need to box the tree and get it back up into the rafters. Every year I see those commercials for the nice, pre-lit trees but they're so expensive. We keep using this one because as of yet there has been no reason to replace the thing. Maybe six holidays now, but I'm not certain. It was cheap, too. Honestly, the tree itself only needs to remain upright and stout because everything on the tree is what makes it nice. Plus, I just this morning secured another ornament from the fourth show. That's going to be really colorful next season. Those five ornaments I sold in eleven were from the glow, believe it or not. Well, four of them anyway. Back then I was always excited to visit a Hallmark store (mostly the one in the big mall we frequented) and see what new lighted or motion ornaments they had on display.



03

Capri Road, Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 3:55pm
Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm f16 1/1000sec


Sometimes, Aida is pretty.

The day appears bright so far, much better than yesterday at this time. I had been preoccupied with the route planning and excited over seeing the vastness of the Silver State after all these years. Most of the morning had me right here on the machine doing research. Now that the basics are worked out, I can move away once the coffee is gone and work on something else. Usually the first half of the routine feels more pressing, so I'll care for that and then head to the garage for a while. This reverend on the show has a great voice. Ah... That reminds me of watching the third show last night. I was researching a couple of actors who guest starred on the FIRST series between sixty-seven and sixty-eight, then reprised the very same roles just shy of THIRTY years later. Amazing. Both of them were born in the twenties and left this world long ago, but also shared very long careers. That must have been fascinating, to be involved in film before anything came close to digital. One of these days I'm going to write something dedicated to my appreciation for their work. Sometimes I wish I could hold a conversation with some actors and tell them of the huge impact they've had on my life. Ugh. I was talking about this day.

One of the aspects of traveling that I've always loved -- mainly the last two decades or so -- is the idea of being a 'portable' version of myself while away from home. As you may well know, my physical comfort has become critical to surviving this life, and the plan is usually to try retaining some of that feeling outside home and in the fold of the unknown. The trips to the high country the last few years have been examples of that feeling, not to mention visiting the Sea four years ago on my birthday and schlepping both the camera and laptop all over southern California. That was a challenge. The situation worsened quite a bit when we hit the idea of leaving the rental car in Vegas and flying home two days later rather than driving. Holy shit, my setup was so fucking heavy in the terminal, although we avoided the dreaded ten-hour ride back up the highway by taking a plane, plus the visit to Caesars was really nice. Anyway, I enjoy the prospect of bringing whatever may be necessary for living a week or more and keeping it as compact as possible. Traveling is one of those parts of life injected into my blood at a very young age thanks to my dad. He loved driving and seeing things otherwise invisible or unattainable during flights. The earliest we can travel is likely late September, yet I am already considering what to bring. The big camera will be the star of the show, along with this machine for logging travel and storing images. The funny part is I originally wanted a rugged laptop for traveling, but in the end found that with two batteries and supporting peripherals the entire works is quite heavy. Hence the word 'schlepping'. Heh. I don't want a repeat of lugging all my shit around McCarran airport. Ugh.

In fact, I don't want Vegas as one of the stops. Too distracting. That is a very different feeling than being in the desert or exploring landmarks and history. Vegas is the largest, most powerful machine within which I have EVER been mired. I love it, but the truth is without tons of money it will simply chew me up and spit me out a few days later, both broke and depressed. I've done it too many times for a repeat. The illusion still calls from time to time, though. That will probably never end.

When I see Jamie's face I am reminded of the commercial from Sunday. Three of us sat there floored and with goosebumps as soon as the music began to play. The key was not just her, but the reminder of the series and connection with the future. The ad has been lauded as the star of the football game. Fucking amazing.

Almost time to do something else. The hour is 0919 and the coffee is thin. Oof.

Death Valley will be a tough one to incorporate considering the destinations further north. That valley is near exactly nothing on any side, and remote enough by road to be out of the way of any thoroughfare. It has to be either the focus, or a side trip requiring much time. Just going from the park boundary to one of the major stops is quite a distance. I've been in that valley twice and recall the massive expanse as it relates to looking at a map -- nothing is close together, nor are the two main places to spend the night near any of the borders. It is likely the most remote location I've ever visited. Compelling enough, though. I have to see it again and share.

1227 and the routine is complete. I still have some laundry, though. I also removed a stop from the route due to one of the best attractions in Death Valley being closed likely until the spring of next year. Damn. At least the mileage was reduced. I can make the valley the centerpiece of a later trip, perhaps. That castle is one of the most stirring sights I've ever seen.

This morning has not been as difficult as the last several. I believe the damage in my head has kept the difficulties at bay. Knowing how I will feel afterward is key. I am still having trouble with other aspects, but at least there is one under partial control right now. The house is all mine for the next few hours, too. That means my devices are in charge. The tranen is waning. I know not why. There is another on the rise, however. Gral does not let up, ever. I have to avoid the smiling faces, gleaming eyes, and everything else piled atop my mountain of shit. Still, this day has not been as troubling as others. I suppose the pain in my arm and the dissatisfaction in everything has been pushing me to consider my anger outlets rather than others. I don't know for sure, yet such an idea seems feasible.

Dead end, I see. No matter what I have explored or attempted throughout the past ten years, the result has been me sitting right fucking here and feeling completely detached from the norm. I don't know how this happened, although the lack of work has likely contributed. Lots of free time means not being forced to hold the line and maintain the wall between me and society. The time also allows for more thinking during the past two years than in the prior twenty, literally. Just working around the house this morning has provided the understanding that much of what takes place in my head has become scientific. Yes, I said that. Very technical, and this realization could actually be a part of the problem. I have never put my situation in such terms before. The fact is that I dissect everything right down to the fucking molecule and then analyze until nothing makes sense anymore, kind of like writing a word and then staring at it long enough for it to seem alien and unknown.

Dead fucking end.

I believe the last several years have thrust me into a place where I see too much. Always searching, and the years are the reason. Last week at the house up the street is a prime example of my head turning a person into a massive focal point and dream when none of it really exists. She was a person, whereas I was more like an escaped mental patient. The fact that I can take a little meeting with a woman aligned with my taste and spin it into an inescapable universe of desire and weakness is a really good indication that I am not well enough to be out there in the first place. This has happened before and will continue until one of two changes can occur. Unfortunately, I cannot identify either of them here. Such an admission will only cause more trouble. I can't have people labeling, if they have not already done so. Well, I don't know because I communicate truthfully with exactly zero individuals. Oh, I communicate some, however the extent of such is always at my discretion and closely guarded. I see too much, process it for days, and then fall all over myself with painful thoughts because I am both alone and pathetic. The last entry hit the nail. Unfortunately, nothing I write here matters more than dried up dog shit on the sidewalk. Something to be avoided. This is the norm and shall remain as such into the later years when I am so bad off that they will have to treat me with some lovely blue electricity combined with water. I made this place, but I did not make the circumstances which have forced its construction. Suck that.

Welcome to the period in which each entry is worse than the last. Gral Valen, and then tranen, and then...



04

Capri Road, Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 3:56pm
Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm f8 1/250sec


God damn was Nancy ever amazing, God rest her soul. An armload of awards for her career.

Thursday. This is going to be a slow one. I don't see any reason to push today, especially considering how I am trying to analyze a problem and work through it. There will be a focal point related to the science in which I will hopefully a solution. Maybe. The alternative is I become worse over time and completely implode one day. Right now I need to remain mindful of the consequences. Yesterday was good. Today can be the same. Also, I have a bit of a later morning and fully intend to sit here working on myself and the trip plan. The camera is here in front of me so I can do some experiments as the light fully develops. I haven't gone out shooting in quite some time. I need a refresh. Heh. Lots of time today. I still have some things to do before the day is all mine, however. The sooner the better.

0819. Here I sit.

I don't believe the last ten years will allow me to be any different. I've tried and failed, the end result finding me less fair and more closed off. The wages of sin are death, but what about other terms? Unfair? I don't know. The fact is I've been affected by too many different things at the same time. If that makes me even weaker than I had thought, so be it. If it labels me in some other negative way, so be it. I don't care. This entire line of thinking may eventually lead somewhere, but not today. Gowron said it best. I wish I had his fucking strength. God bless Robert, too. I've heard enough from people to realize that I am indeed so far out of balance that I probably can't see it half the time. No disagreement there, yet I must still adhere to the idea of outside influences having negative effects upon me regardless of how I may come across. Some aspects of the past simply cannot be erased or dealt with. Cut and fucking dry.

I'll have to go over the hill today for cat food. Sometimes ordering online is sketchy because the stock goes up and down like a high-speed elevator, plus the prices keep changing from differing sellers. I looked around the Net for a while and calculated that the best course is to get off my duff and drive over there. Whatever. Maybe I can have lunch somewhere, too. Haven't done that in a while. Shopping in person has gone all to hell in many ways, mostly due to the advent of massive online outlets and the pandemic.

I am losing my fucking mind right now.

1032. Maybe I won't go over the hill today. We have enough canned food for almost two weeks, meaning I can try shopping online during the next few days and see if anything looks reasonable. Two of the ornaments I wanted on the tree next season are on their way here, too. There is another lot of six which, if the bidding doesn't get out of control, may be on my list. I want the shows all over the tree. The first two ornaments from way back in the glow were also Hallmark but not the show. One was lighted, and may have been the first 'magic' type of ornament I'd ever seen, while the other was lighted with motion inside, like a snow globe with a winter scene and a small see-saw moving. They were expensive back then but I didn't care. Her family's tree looked absolutely magical and stunning, and I wished to follow suit. Didn't care of the cost back then. Did I ever tell the story of that Christmas Eve when my family was all arriving at my parents' house and I took off for the airport? I don't remember. Another time, perhaps. The glow is not glowing today, yet the ornaments are taking up space in my otherwise disorganized head.

Gangsters and whiskey before eleven in the morning. And there is that wine-soup maneuver again. I don't get it. Maybe I'll order a massive pizza for lunch. Fuck it. Alicia plays a rather reprehensible character that I do not like one bit. The acting is another story, however. I know a good director can pull talent out of an actor even when they may not be feeling the character. She is talented, too. I've seen two other programs with her in the leading role and she was great. I believe this is a combination of talent and direction. Awesome. Plus? This is the episode related to the film industry so I usually end up all fucked over by the time the credits crawl up the screen. Oof, and she just used the word. Further down.

And now there is 'Variety'. I used to pick up an issue from time to time when I needed some background on what was happening in the industry. That publication is weekly, and seeing it reminds me of when I wanted a subscription. The cost was close to three hundred a year, believe it or not. The key individuals whose decisions shaped the industry probably paid for it without batting an eye, but for me it was too much to justify. Maybe if I had taken that step toward the door granted to me by the sound engineer back in zero four, I could have secured the reading on a daily basis. Wow, I just looked at their site and apparently it's cheaper these days. Less than two hundred for a year of both print and electronic. Still too much considering I have zero connections in the southern half of the state. Whatever. The dream rose and fell, hard. I was afraid. Anything coming across the screen these days which tickles the fourth wall or references film just smashes me to pieces. Damn it. I was told in my forties that no dramatic was impossible, just difficult. Lots of support. I felt there was little time and I was too old to begin such a process. Well, here I am eighteen years later. Where could those years have taken me? I didn't see it. And I've probably bitched about this before.

/rant

1106 and I may not do a fucking thing from this point forward.

The dress is now made of a chemical combination which I must keep to myself. It's a secret. Chemistry. Something I never thought I would equate to anything I write here aside from the occasional, modified White Russian poured in the morning. I think my head is grasping at any method for speaking here with zero chance of another person understanding or connecting the dots. I can't have that. There is one person who knows me in more detail than anyone else alive on this planet, yet that person still does not know the worst parts, and I am not kidding. In the long run, said person is better off. I feel bad enough about myself right now. Don't need anyone else feeling the same. There is Saundra again, bless her goofy character. So funny. Short hair, too. Not good when compared to the earlier episodes. Maybe I'll cut the show off and put something else up there for a while. Looking at the show journal, I just calculated the log dates and realized I've seen the entire series all the way through -- eighty-six hours' worth each time -- since last July. If you didn't think I was actually certifiable before today, reexamine your position. I am fucking crazy. What a paragraph.

Chemical combination. And no, I will not detail the compounds involved in this realization. The dress has always represented more than one standpoint or issue or person, but now it is working in concert with my state of mind and physical condition. I've been preoccupied DAILY with my physiological being more than ever before, and just since the outset of this new year. Sometimes it enters my mind in the evening because that is the time when I relax on the sofa and rev up the television with one of the five shows. The other three are a separate issue and rarely allow me to back off enough to see my condition during the night. Don't ask me to explain. I'll go back to the closet doors, the hotel in Sparks, and one fateful occasion in zero-nine with an Amish girl. Everything is related. Hmm... Maybe I should never have shared some of this shit. Silvio: 'Ahhh, fuck it. Let's all have a drink.'



05

Near Capri Road, Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 4:03pm
Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm f9 1/320sec


308 essays of which 296 have been published. This is not good.

And a tidbit from the very beginning of the glow... A film. It was my lunch idea today. A very stirring, emotional story from the civil war. Not yet the time of my industry fascination, though. That came into being a few years later, and again upon returning from the Midwest. Ninety was the year the film was released. Now my head is more emotional than the story. Damn.

1445 and I've lost the ambition to do anything. This has become commonplace and I don't know how to change my afternoon feeling. I was told a few times that it doesn't matter, but I cannot agree right now. I feel useless sometimes. Oh, the usual stuff is finished and everything is in good order, but still... Just after the first shelter order when I ended up pissed off and extracted myself from the social media applications, production around the house was at an all-time high. Now I just stand there and stare at things for a few minutes and then return to the familiar media and thinking. There is nothing pressing or in need of repair, just organization and improvements which can be addressed daily. So far this year, little has changed. I don't feel good about this crap. Not a bit. I should not be sitting at the IDE this time of the day in the middle of the week. I don't know how to proceed with anything right now.

I thought I saw that woman at the market before lunch today. I really did, or perhaps it was wishful thinking. Immediately when my brain told me it was her, I turned and went to the checkout lane at the opposite end. Self-preservation, more or less. I saw the same person bagging her groceries as I headed toward the exit, too. I was way off, honestly. Similar pants, nothing much else. Short, lighter hair beneath a hat. Much taller. About the same build, I think. For a split second my mind was all over the possibility. The rest of that same second had me recoiling for my own good. I actually stood there telling myself it was her, damn it. That is worse than not working around the house in the afternoon. It is textbook desperation and yearning. Everything I've tried to describe here in the last year when there is a moment of staring at a woman pretty much stems from the same fucking condition, and I don't like it one bit. As I stepped through the door and toward my car, I realized my decision to turn away was actually an example of common sense, if not also strength. I was proud for a short time. Well, until I turned the car toward the back of the mall to see if I could catch sight of those pants leaving the store. I rose and then fell. Still down there right now. Trying to describe what I see and feel during those key moments is not a good idea. Something has to change, although I have no idea what or how. Not even a smidgen of insight after years of this shit. I can barely change the channel anymore. Well, I don't have channels now, so whatever. Insert clever analogy here. I'm out of them.

I still stared, though. Big fucking surprise. I should not be looking AT ALL considering what kind of emotional turmoil usually results. I saw her from the back, wearing those typical form-fitting black pants and can still recall her appearance. That is precisely why I should not be looking around the fucking store, ever. Nothing good can ever come of it. Nothing. I'll sit here and behave the same, every damned time. Reminds me of being a teenager. Laugh at that one. Forty fucking years ago.

Geez, the desk computer in front of the captain makes even this beast of a laptop appear slender. Oof... Bad word choice, but you get the point. This series ended in ninety-nine, so I would guess it was typical for the time.

Maybe the impact of the call girl in the hotel years ago was more than I had thought. Or, maybe something in me snapped when I saw Marci in ninety-five. That was a tough one to recall. Could have been the girl at the car wash and then meeting with my neighbor for a couple of lunches. Or the one in the brewery not long before. One certainty is that I was out of my fucking mind to a great degree when I first saw the Raven walk through our office here in town. I didn't understand. She was a person, but still exacerbated the obsession beyond belief due to Her willingness to both listen and allow me turn Her into a science experiment. The combination of so many situations which gave rise to my fixation have taken their toll. Today's shit was merely a symptom, much like the eyes down the street there. I will never understand. Oh, there was another, too. Very close. I still dream of staring every fucking day. One entertaining little morsel of information is the fact that whatever happens in the future, if there arises an opportunity to do what I dreamed years ago, nothing will happen due to me being absent shortly thereafter. Running away, screaming, dying. No one will wish to be within earshot of me and my psychosis. Fuck it. Most likely, the reasons have combined. All those encounters and whatevers came together to form a picture of me.

I forgot to mention the woman here in town who was going to allow me to measure her fingers. That went bad just like all the rest. She initially agreed but demurred less than a day later because I went on too much about her dramatic height. Fingers. Yep. Not the first time, either. Remember the business cards? I was verbally crucified by two who know me personally for coming up with that idea. That's about right.

I still see her bagging groceries. I should not be able to see a woman bagging groceries four fucking hours later. Not at all. But there she is...

There are some entries I need to remove from the archive. So far, just the train series went away, plus the story of the Sea is being reworked somewhat. Mostly the images. It will return. The others are beginning to appear different to me now, as if my current state of mind is being sliced to ribbons due to the detailed nature of those stories. I don't know, though. They just may have to go. More reminders of where I was as opposed to the present are not necessary for me to feel like shit.

The afternoon is moving along as it should, I suppose. The lack of work could all be in my head. I've been told that I do quite a bit around here, so maybe I'm just seeing the passage of time more clearly now than in the past. The morning dragged a bit because of the usual (daily) troubling situations, but I made it out with nary a scrape. Again. I have to hold it together until something happens. No idea of what that may be anymore. My little world was already small, and now seems to be shrinking even more since the new year. Part of it remains clear, while other aspects still elude my thinking. One thing for sure is I ended up pretty fucking angry yesterday morning and do not wish for a repeat anytime soon. 1605.

And now 0645 on Friday. I am going to shove this day down the throat of the last. Again with the arm.

Yesterday's small victory may help carry me forward a little. I still have a head full of shit, still see the girl from last week and her doppelgänger in the market, still see the smiling faces and their chemical equations, yet for whatever reason those facts and sights are not pushing me down this morning. Yesterday was the same. I know not the reason, yet there could be something deep inside going bad. I know nothing anymore.

This is all so stupid.

Her."



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