08-06-2020 04:48 pdt

The archive may again be divided by years. There has been a tremendous amount of entries thus far this calendar year resulting in a very long page of titles. For the time being it will remain unchanged, however an alternative structure is in the works. Stay tuned.




The Conundrum and the Glass

 read ( words)

"I forgot Claire is in this movie. Hmm. Haven't thought about her in quite some time, and this is the one in which she shows up and takes Dermot's breath away in a funny scene. A lot of people didn't care for this film, but I've always liked it. Great cast. And I never really had a thing for her, it was just the eyes. Doe.

Monday morning as the Brazilians have been pushed to the net. Pause for the drive.

And that was a fucking problem. In addition to number four becoming out of my control, that same Goddamned girl was there by the beach in El Granada. Fuck me in a bikini top, there she was, carrying a surfboard and in her swimsuit. As I said last time, going all over the place with her appearance is not necessary. What is of paramount importance is my brain's reaction to her standing there with flowing hair in the breeze. I fell down. Hard. And there was more... In the parking lot. As I pulled into a space, a woman tall as hell and wearing low-rise jeans combined with heels was exiting the coffee house and gazelling her way to a truck. Damn it. I was not alone so maintaining composure had to happen, and that hurt. At this point in time, and after everything I have gushed here regarding the difficulty in seeing such a form, another does not help me at all. She was amazing. I waited, she left, and then I drove back north toward home and saw the tiny vision next to the highway. Upon arriving here, I immediately sucked a cigarette and then dove into the chores. I saw no other way of continuing with my morning and trying to extract those women before falling further. For the most part, it worked. I flew through the daily chores and completed them in record time. Now I have the bathroom project awaiting inspiration. If not for jumping directly into the routine, I likely would have sat here and wallowed. I am still not well at all. Four was bad enough, and I will admit those visions did not help. I daydreamed. Very bad. Just an hour later and four is gone, however the damage has been done. I am nearly done. Thank Christ we restocked the liquor yesterday. I'm going to need it, and soon. What a fucking morning.

Damn it all, anyway. I have enough going on these days. I need no more stunning women in my sights. They are always there, but I consciously made the choice to look. I feel weaker now than I have in years. With resources? I would already be on the road. No can do anymore, so I just have to sit here and fucking deal with it, whether or not such a condition hurts or helps. I am so disappointed in myself that the decision to reveal the event from the eighties is becoming easier. I may yet go into it, afterward only God knows how I will live with that shit. One thing is pushing it, too. My head is already so fucked up that another notch does not seem too much.

At least I have some delicious leftovers slated for lunch. One little tidbit of positive. Maybe I'll break out the aforementioned alcohol and drown into a pool of depression like I used to. That kind of thing never solved anything, but since I can't seem to get anywhere no matter what I do, might as well be schnokered too. Wonkish. Pissy-eyed. Fuck it. Go ahead and laugh at my plight. I just don't care anymore. The recklessness of the past was generally related to running to and into the arms of a woman I did not know. Well, I can't fucking do that now, so the reckless nature will be words here. Quite the difference, right? Why the fuck not? I have little else these days. Damned near nothing, really. The routine I embrace daily and from which I still derive enjoyment is still as such, but honestly I just need more. Much more. And there are no avenues left to me. Do you have an idea? An answer? Anything? I didn't think so. All I can do now is continue in the same vein that has brought me this far. The one aspect of life right now is an abundance of time. Between the virus and my decision to leave my career, I have had more time alone than since the isolation of eleven. And I think of that period every single day. I loved it, hated it, tolerated the loneliness, and eventually the time in my cave ended. I came out the other side a complete fucking wreck, so keeping that in mind now will hopefully keep me out of the ground. I mean that figuratively, not literally. Don't get your shit all twisted. How many times in the last few months have I stated that I am ok? Tons. I still am, for the most part. I will admit that the strain of the Brazilian test still hurts and pushes me toward drastic measures, but keep in mind I am not fucking going anywhere. Nothing would be more satisfying right now than to exit this house and dash toward the desert, but alas I cannot do anything. I've got myself into a position which may take years to alleviate. And believe me when I say that I am already planning the route. If my buddy hadn't sold his damned apartment, I would probably be there right now.

That tall beauty in the parking lot spun me badly. She popped into view so quickly that I was immediately taken aback and completely lost whatever train of thought was operating. The only positive is she was leaving. Had I seen her walk in both directions, this content might be very different. Yes, I know I go on about one or another often, but she was reminiscent of the way Jaime looks in the widest image. Very tall -- like approaching six feet -- with those slender legs wrapped by jeans that could have been tailored. I stopped searching for the goddess of the universe some time ago in the interest of keeping myself as sane as possible. I knew at some point that looking for her was completely ridiculous, and then began to search for the idea of what I need. Equally futile? Of course. There is nothing out there for me. Nothing at all, no matter the time, place, or circumstances. I am fucking mired in the worst possible conundrum. Days ago I viewed the search as a puzzle. Nope. It is completely unfound and will go nowhere. One more time... Nothing is there, no matter where I look. Visions, lines, and everything else, but the idea is just that. It is impossible. In the last entry I turned inward and began searching there instead. More of that, more drinking, and less sense are my future. At least I am admitting that I have a future, dim as it is, and I know I can survive it, however I will slowly turn into just a thing which takes up space on the sofa. Booze, computer, this, and very little else. All I can do is embrace the little enjoyments and pass the fucking time like an inmate. This prison that I have constructed through years of inactions, indecisions, and far too much yearning for everything which is not really there. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

As of noon I have not moved toward the bathroom work. Motivation is at an all-time low right now. For the time being, I will embrace this exploration more and hopefully find the will before my afternoon drive. I also have refrained from pouring myself a fat cocktail. Doing so will result in my becoming even more disillusioned than I have been since this morning. As good as it sounds, the reward will feel much better after arriving home this evening. The hour shall be very nice. Being home in the evening used to mean I was not as comfortable as my time alone during the bulk of the day. Well, not anymore. Many days have shown me how difficult a time I have in attempting to work on projects. Recently I continued the bathroom and felt very good about it. That situation had been driven by the invasion, however, so the motivation was not entirely the progress on the room. I needed to close the door on further marches by the critters. Now that I need not worry about such a thing happening again, I am having trouble moving ahead. I would like to get in there today but do not feel it. Here I sit. Another idle situation is the drum kit. I disassembled and loaded the entire system into my car roughly a month ago with the intention of moving everything elsewhere. I changed my mind after moving the table out of the old office. I can take care of the floor and set the system up there for playing whenever the mood strikes. All of it sits now. I can't take the first step. Nothing seems to be blowing my skirt up today. The one exception is my key chain project. There are a few items coming in the mail between tomorrow and the end of the week which will require me to reconfigure the parts. That is very enjoyable as I have become somewhat of a key chain fetishist. Heh. Aside from that, I do not feel like working on anything. Thank goodness the daily routine is finished. Stop.

Well then, inspired by the other day in the bathroom, I got off my ass and took care of a few things. The afternoon drive is an hour away, and that means evening and cocktail hour is that much closer. Very nice. I can't believe I did something other than sit here and bitch. I am so good at it these days. Anyway, small steps toward a better-organized home have been completed. Hopefully I can continue on that path tomorrow as well. Not everything is positive right now, though. While taking a break in the new office, I spied the girl from three doors down as she walked her stroller. A smile and a wave, as always, and then she disappeared along the sidewalk. Oy gawd damn, what a form she has. Slender, always in stretch pants, and with enormous breasts bouncing along. She is dramatically out of proportion in many ways. Long nose, wide mouth, full lips, too fucking much. I have spoken to her before but she was not dressed in such a manner. Usually she is not alone. I believe her mother takes walks with her in the afternoon. I stared after waving and dropped a notch. Fortunately, I was only partially finished with the project, so I pushed myself back inside to complete things to my satisfaction. But for fuck's sake... I didn't need to see her walk by. Perhaps my garage needs to remain closed during the weekdays to save myself from distress. On top of that, I browsed Pinterest to see what kind of Star Trek wallpapers were available, and ran across a Russian model with one of those faces. You know, my type. Damn it anyway. I should refrain from scrolling that application without a specific search. My boards are such that the feed is varied quite a bit, from wristwatches to technology and tons of models. I guess I would have been better off without creating a board entitled 'sculpture' some years ago. That interest generates all sorts of problems. I may have to adjust the feed to exclude any females. In the long run I will be better equipped to save myself. Not that funny.



001



Aside from the Russian bouncing breasts, the day has been uneventful. I went from no motivation to lots of drive in the space of roughly an hour. My lunch wasn't too heavy, either. And no booze. That is key if I am to really enjoy the evening. It feels more deserved that way. Pause.

Tuesday morning. Headache, a little. My drive is half an hour earlier than usual. And I believe today will be one of those in which I accomplish very little. I just don't feel it this morning. Yesterday worked out pretty well despite my falling down a bit in the morning. Sometimes I am up and about fairly early, other times I sit with this machine a while first, and then there are days I keep to myself for sanity. I do my best thinking while working here, for whatever reason, and it can work to my advantage sometimes. The afternoon yesterday was looking to be very warm, so I prepared the house for ventilation and donned the shorts. Generally when the weather is warm and the house takes after the sun, I slow down some but will not necessarily sit with this exposition. The warm equals bright. I was on my feet in the early afternoon and took care of some reconfiguration in the living room along with cleaning. The sun was so bright that the back of the house was not sofa-friendly. Heh. Cut to roughly an hour later, and the sky was socked in completely. Gray, drizzle all over the place, so I dashed in and closed the windows. So funny, I did not wish to sit due to the light, and then it just slapped me in the face and grew much darker. I often express disdain at the sheer number of days with full sun as opposed to what I experienced years ago while visiting the coast. The truth is the weather is fine. I don't mind as long as the mercury remains nominal. According to the news on the radio yesterday, between today and tomorrow the weather will cool and the fog will flow further onshore. That might be my ticket to lots of time here.

Watching my show yesterday helped me to realize just how obsessed I have become. I actually believe this issue has expanded by a large factor just since the outset of the first shelter order almost five months ago. I began to notice a little while back when we were considering purchasing an air-frying oven seen on the television. I recorded the entire infomercial so we could research the model in question, after which I scoured the Internet for as much information as possible. Well, in the end we did not get one. but something is stuck in my head from watching the show. Emeril was demonstrating ease of cleaning the oven by removing a drip tray at the bottom and suggesting it could be tossed in the dishwasher as it is nonstick. Not a big deal. He is funny, and his co-host was nothing to comment upon. However, the idea of the dishwasher took at cut from his stage and we saw a random woman doing exactly as he described. There she was in her kitchen (an actor, not someone out in the real world, naturally) taking said drip pan out of the dishwasher and marveling at the sparkle. The entire scene was no more than five or six seconds. When I saw the way she moved, I reacted accordingly. Exasperated, and then, 'Did you see the fucking legs on that woman?'. Yes, I blurted. That is an ideal example of how bad I have become. Just a glimpse of a form on the television, no one of consequence on the program, and there I was floored as if she walked right by me. No name, nothing else to see, mere seconds on the screen, and there I was... Turmoil. Torment at not being able to see more. And then questions. Why? Who was she? Where did they find her? All of it is completely ridiculous, of course, but such is me now. So, cut to the show for the last several days. I have been noticing people in the background more than ever. Young female ensigns who are absent from the credits due to no lines of dialog. I see them and then they disappear. But my head remains with them for a while. I do not like it. The commercials do the same thing sometimes. Just a glimpse and I gush all over the place and fall down. I don't know how I turned out this way, but it's worsening by the day. For whatever reason, the Russian woman bouncing by my garage door yesterday is radically different. Maybe because she lives just up the street, or maybe because I know she is married and would never say or indicate anything other than courteous greetings. I don't know for sure. But I tell you, seeing the visions here and there on the television and often enough out in the world is becoming more of a problem than I could have imagined. I just don't understand why the sights are so compelling. Right now I am watching a prison movie from the early seventies in order to save myself some fucking grief.

I just don't understand myself. Do I want all of them? And why do I run to the Internet after seeing a commercial to find the woman's name? I've done that so many times that I cannot even remember. Even the walnut girl... I copied the video and screen captures so I could see her anytime I wish. Does that help me? Nope. Not one bit. In all likelihood, saving one of the actors to my computer makes things worse. I look days later and recall the ad, but nothing comes of it. Remember when I went over the idea that I may have been suppressing tons of desire? Am I? Still haven't figured that one out yet. I don't know what to say, either. If I sit here day after day and want all those women right here with me, well, that makes me something much worse than I had thought. At least I haven't said anything to anyone. I never do. Plus, most of those over which I obsess are completely out of reach in every conceivable way. That is good. And I will get into that most-operative of phrases again here in a little bit. There is much to say.

On the upside, as the light rises out in the yard I see that there has been drizzle again. The fog is thick, and that means today may be perfect for taking it easy on the sofa and working toward whatever this has become. I did not move here ten years ago to live in sunshine every fucking day, after all.

Look at the third image of Karina. Do you see the line that flows between her breasts and follows all the way down to the landing strip just above her sex? Her body may be some sort of reference. I don't even remember how I ran across her, but seeing those lines between her inner thighs, hips, and waist simply drives me up the wall. I do not lust for her... Not really. There is a tinge, which I believe is natural toward a woman of her shape, but mostly I just stare and try to understand why she appears the way she does. There are levels of beauty in the world (to me, anyway), and she is nearly at the top right now. Others float up and down that scale, too. Karina is just one example and has graced this site thrice. She may be something I never understand. Look at her. Jesus.

Ok enough of that.

The drive is an hour away. Almost time for me to get a few preparations out of the way so I can return here later and sit with the exploration of my existence. Pause.

Nothing of note during the drive other than a ton of precipitation. Here at home the fog is all over the place and seems to be breaking up somewhat. I have the show in the background and coffee left. Upon reaching home, I realized that my chores will be expanded today, and that is a very good thing. I do not wish for too much idle time. I am still reeling from the visions which pop up during commercial breaks and such. I just don't understand why my head lunges at those women so often. I was not like this a year ago. Memories of seeing ads from when I first embraced high-definition television are not the same. There was a face on one of my weekly shows over which I gushed for months, but honestly the commercials and quick glimpses did not affect me as now. I certainly hope this condition does not worsen. More shit in my head is bad right now.

Laundry, more work on the new office to keep things organized, and my usual tasks await. I will likely have a full day, plus the extra titanium parts of my ongoing key chain project should arrive today along with a few household items. The key chain makes me smile. At this point titanium is rather necessary due to the sheer amount of crap I have attached. Otherwise the whole thing would be enormously heavy. Plus, those machined parts are right up my alley with regard to appearance. I just love that stuff and it is right in line with my EDC bag (which is nearly complete now. Yes!).

The show is safe. Very seldom does any aspect of it head into threatening or worrisome territory. These days my sensitivity to outside issues is at an all-time high and I have few clues as to how this happened. One is obviously me, of course. If I was the type to have more self-esteem it would probably drive my confidence up, but at this age and after everything I have experienced for years I don't know if I am capable of rising. Most of the time I simply withdraw and hide. That is the only time I can be in complete control of my surroundings and media. Society is not allowed in. The root is likely me, but there is another, and that is society. I cannot know what goes on in others' heads -- as I have stated here on multiple occasions recently -- and the trust issue arises when I think of people, especially women. They are the end-all be-all of issue-generating entities in this world. Even my world. Sitting alone and closed off from everything should provide me with inner comfort. It does at times, and I have concluded that being out and about can be taken in small doses. For example, I need to go shopping tomorrow mid-morning. Part of my motivation for heading out into society is the procurement of things we need, but also the feeling of returning home where I am most comfortable and have control over the environment. I've said all this before and only rehash due to worry. I am still trying to figure myself out, damn it, so you're going to have to deal with the same crap over and over as I think. There is one person who catalyzed many of my fears, too. There is a caveat to those worries, though. She is extremely understanding and may know me better than anyone else. She listens, hears me, and responds with much kindness. She wishes me to be happy and comfortable. As elusive as those two facets can be, I generally feel better after we speak in person. In the beginning, she was a pressure point while out. I always keep my eyes moving, and due to my ridiculous yet necessary double-standard, the same from her was unacceptable. Yes, that sort of situation is both selfish and unfair, however without control over it I will not survive. Not one bit. So, we eventually worked on the ideas and everything improved. Nothing is ideal, though. I still worry and fall on my face often. The main difference now is everything being closed off. I spoke not long ago about all those outings for lunch and shopping. Being there sometimes was difficult, but overall I loved every damned occasion and miss them dearly. She is likely the only woman I can be with out in the world who considers my feelings almost constantly. As difficult as my head makes things, she can calm it most of the time. That is one of the many reasons I refer to her as the goddess. Inside and out, absolutely beautiful. And there is more, but I cannot spell it out here. Trouble, still after all this time. That is enough. Leave it alone. Problems are involved. In my head. Problems sans solutions. No shit. Pause.



012



Much better. All my daily chores are finished and laundry is nearly complete. Very good. I also had a few items from a reminder this morning and those are finished as well. My new intermediate carabiner arrived and is awaiting one more item that will be shipped from Spain. Once that arrives along with an accessory from the Far East, my entire key chain will be finished. Or at least for now. I may change things in the future. That is one possession which brings a smile to my face, and that means money well-spent. I did a little organizing in the new office, too. That space is looking better. After relocating the big keyboard to the city, there is another large area that I can reconfigure this weekend. All in all this day has been very productive. Now I can sit with this and not feel as if I should be doing something.

While working at the laundry, I was considering some of the issues and possible causes. Two came to mind first, and I remember certain situations in which something took place to make me think in terms of what may have been threatening and what was not. I know that each occasion had to do with a female in one way or another, as they are the very basis of the issue. The beginning of it will not likely become apparent after all these years, though. Just some of the memories I have. Sitting here now I fail to see how another person could have had such an effect upon me if I didn't know them. The idea of thoughts in a woman's head is what pushes such things. I cannot know -- as I have stated here in spades -- so the trust becomes paramount. Considering the sheer number of years passed, any analysis is spotty at best, but I still believe that those thoughts created the lion's share of problems. I am certain of it, and to this very second that has not changed at all. I still become apprehensive when faced with public places and those with whom I am not familiar. Are they better than me somehow? Maybe, and maybe not. Do they push? Not at all. They are merely others living their lives as they see fit. Right or wrong is immaterial at this point. The fact is they are there just as I. The storm which begins in my head may indeed have several causes, most of which I may not even remember now. But the feeling has endured, and can destroy me. Like the ego fractures discussed previously, the smallest detail can have catastrophic consequences, and may have taken place often enough to leave me in this condition for the remainder of my life. Every single one of them has been caused by my reaction to the words from another. Yes, my reaction, but keep in mind the standards which have been thrust upon me by society throughout decades are out of my control, as are the most thoughts.

I am so fragile and sensitive these days that the very thought of being out there among others and with a female companion is frightening. The slightest misstep has often been the driving force behind my harsh and unrelenting tirade of lectures. Just one tiny phrase can send me flying. That is part of the reason I wish to remain where I have complete control over my environment. I need it like oxygen. And yes, before you flip out over my wording, I did just blame many others for the way I am. Suck it. They were the beginning, and will be graded accordingly. I have no patience anymore, so when I am near others I will be quite rigid and controlling because that is the only way to remain safe. If pushed too much, I simply will not be there. Ever.

The shitty truth of all this is that I am seeking answers in only one direction. I will be the same -- if not worse -- no matter what I learn. You're just going to have to live with that one.

I do recall in great detail more than one occasion in which the simplicity of a glance or term knocked me off my fucking feet. Some are further back in time, while others are more recent. They all still hurt me. Yep, I am that weak now. Again... Partially my fault, the rest being caused by other people. I already admitted that I am unbending when it comes to standards to which I hold people as they grate against my own. Double. Hell, maybe triple. I am not an easy person to be around most of the time. I analyze everything constantly and make the most straightforward conversation extremely tedious. It never stops, not even between me and someone for whom I care. That doesn't matter because said person is still someone else, feelings notwithstanding. They are pushed aside and I leverage each part of a discussion until they give up completely. I am exhausting to deal with, always. Well, this is not entirely my doing. I just think all the fucking time and consider every facet of possibilities. Always, and in more detail than I can describe. When I perceive an issue related to me or someone nearby, the subject is railroaded to such a level so as to discourage any rebuke. I make it almost impossible to fire back, no matter the standpoint. And if that goes bad? No more words of any kind. Oh the head keeps going, but on the outside I shut everything off. No wonder I am so comfortable here alone. I do not enjoy grading people as I have. All of it stems from fear. On the inside is still that fourteen-year-old who knows not what to do. No solutions, no understanding... Only fear.

The time for preparing to drive is at hand. I am tired of this crap anyway. Stop.

Wednesday now. This is the weekday with no drive south. We are going to the big store like last week, except this time it will be the consumer side. There will likely be more people there than the business version. I have not been to that store in a few months. Mostly she would go while on the way to the city. Both of us going is better, though. I must say that I will be very happy to be home after shopping. There is always a tinge of nervousness while out and it dissipates quickly upon arriving home. My little space. My chores will be different today, as well. Likely less. That is good considering how much I am desiring sitting with this until completion.

I saw the girl in the parking lot yesterday afternoon as she left her car. Her face is so cute that I can't even describe it. As I said before, there is a softness I can see in her eyes. Explaining is just ridiculous. I've gone all over the place about her for days. I am going to assume you get the point. The eyes. Her walk, too. Something about her knees almost knocking. I don't know anymore. Nothing else went on over there. The drive home was smooth. And home was nice, especially after a productive day. I thought of all sorts of things to put here and then forgot everything by the time I could sit again. One part remained and popped back into my head this morning. Issue two. The threats are everywhere no matter what I may feel toward myself. They are many. I am certain that two will eventually take over the rest of the issues. As I said, one is a choice, three can be avoided if I remain vigilant, and four is a weakness. I have no one with whom to confer now, though. Everything which may have created this situation with two is gone. Long gone. And I do not know what brought it back into my head recently. It may have been the fiction, or possibly something in person that took me for a few seconds and then became repressed for God-knows how long. I can't be sure of anything now. I have only ideas on what happened. Keep in mind that anything related to this nearly always has to do with a woman in one way or another, and despite the fact that the pieces of me which are missing can possibly be recovered, I cannot have anything take place now which will push me further out of my mind. Whether or not I can be repaired is not going to make being around others any easier. I realize that sounds backwards, but it's true. No matter what I may accomplish, all of it can be destroyed by the right sequence of words. I am that fucking fragile these days. And I have become even moreso in the past week. This is bad. I guess I have to stay away until I can figure something out.

Seeing her cute face and dark eyes yesterday had me thinking... I don't know what is in her head. Of course, I don't need to know because she and I have nothing to do with each other. She is just a person I see. Yes, she happens to stir me, but nothing will ever come of it. So, why do I not fear what goes on inside her? Because she is not a part of my life. If I get to the point of worrying over random people's thoughts, I might have to lock myself in. That would be very bad. The girl in the parking lot shares the softness with what I see of Jaime, and that may be the reason. I don't know Jaime, either. There is no way of knowing if she would destroy me. Shattered, without her knowledge. The girl down south has a lot going on in her life, and due to culture I am certain none of this kind of thing comes into her head on a daily basis. And I don't need to know, either. I will never have anything to do with her. She is merely an example both due to her face and eyes, along with being someone I have seen often enough to think about quite a bit. That is all. I cannot really comment upon others who are in my view for five seconds, right? Like the avocado pants. She is all but gone as I can no longer see her. But even when I did, the worry of two was not apparent. It didn't matter, honestly. I was looking at her shape and dreaming a bit. That is fine. Also, she was a decent distance away so her eyes were unclear. Ok, what the fuck does all this mean? I don't know. Maybe I am going around the barn with the idea that only a woman with whom I am close can perpetuate threat, or at least cause a situation in which I become withdrawn due to the surroundings. That happened a while back during a lunch date. It was bad, although I did a masterful job of snowing the world. Nothing could be seen of the storm inside me after those moments. I was severely threatened, felt completely uncomfortable, cut in half, and could do absolutely nothing about it. Now, you must understand that the situation was not anyone's fault on that occasion. As I recall, the issue was inside me. At the time, I felt more understanding could have alleviated much of the difficulty, however I said nothing because I did not want to create tension and ruin an otherwise lovely lunch. So, I boxed everything up and shoved it deep inside for later analysis. By the time that day was over, I had only been able to consider the problem while alone. I simply did not have the strength to bring it up to anyone else. That is a clear-cut case of one fear overpowering another. Much of my time outside this house is defined by the same. The lunch is a memory that pulls at me sometimes. I still see the room, the people, and the feeling which ruined my ability to digest a delicious meal that had to remain off my face. I see it now. I was strained to the fucking limit. I have to admit that I am likely weaker and more sensitive now than I was at that time, but let me state one thing very clearly: I will not put myself in such a situation again without discussing the problem. And God help whomever is next to me. I do not know if it is apparent throughout this paragraph, but there is enough anger inside me right now to destroy the world. Yes, over fear and intimidation which often has no basis in reality. You read it right. And this whole tirade began as an attempt to compare one of the most trying situations in recent memory with a pair of eyes and the feelings inside when I see them. There is more.

At least I wrote a paragraph properly. I think.



017



I realize that the content up there is not terribly clear, but understand that I cannot simply spell things out with names and addresses. Much of what I have been saying here is ambiguous because I have to protect myself. Period. Also understand that for me to put it here means the importance and effect upon my life cannot be overstated. That day -- along with a few others since living here by the ocean -- have served to manipulate my feelings and actions so much that I no longer resemble the calm, structured person I was prior to the move. I am a mess due to tons of external forces to which I became exposed due to my wish to be near others and involved. And females, from the Brunette to all over the fucking place, too. She was free-thinking, intelligent and very strong. I had been enamored and then intimidated. I never really liked overly-strong women because they appeared as just another form of threat. Yep, too much woman, I guess. Whatever you wish to say about that can be written on paper and then shoved into your own fucking pocket. I don't want or need to hear it. Others are constantly confirming that we are all different, right? Well, there is a fucking difference for you. Shut up. Anyway, it was precisely her outspoken nature (toward me, of course) which sent me flying all the fucking time. I cannot begin to count how many occasions found me burying myself in discomfort and worry over a simple sentence. Too much. I have already gushed about how dramatically I loved that woman, so don't crucify me for bringing up a negative. That was all inside me, too. She lived her life very well. The issues were all mine and I have never blamed her for anything. Mmkay? Mmkay. Leave it. Just understand that the threatening manner of others was nonexistent for a very long time before I came here. Had I gushed to her about how fucked up I was inside when we first met, the odds of us building a relationship would have shot through the roof. I do not resent anyone or anything as a result, I am only saying that the Brunette was a lesson and a test. A big one. I fucking failed miserably and very nearly killed myself afterward.

All of the difficulty in being out and about with her (and sometimes just sitting at home) is still inside me. There was a dormant period back a while, but mostly I am still the same weakened, overly-sensitive pile of mush that I was during the isolation. I was afraid, and right up until I had to help her I was even worse than I can describe. From having to shove it away and distract myself daily to worrying about her and watching all the trouble melt away was a stretch. Cut back to the restaurant mentioned above and perhaps you can see a bit of a correlation. See it? Yes? No? I don't care anyway. The point is that none of it ever left. The gaping holes inside me are still the same. I feel as if I have been fashioned from the most fragile blown glass and any touch means destruction. In fact, the only time I do enjoy strength is when I am caring for the daily routine. I will get into some of that in a bit, and it's not easy. Anyway, too many occasions have come and gone for me to sit here and describe them all. Bear with me, this is not fun. Necessary, but not fun at all. I will keep trying. Yesterday I went through a period of working around the house and partially paying attention to the actors. I looked at them and felt a bit of understanding and then took it easy on myself for a time. I really did. I looked at them and almost realized that much of what develops in my head has no basis in reality. Everything felt lighter for a little while as I worked along. Lighter, kind of like off my back. It did not last long, though. Soon enough everything reverted and I carried on with my stuff. The actors are people, too. They are working up there on the television, well-known or otherwise. People. Like me. Maybe like me, I don't know. There is no way in hell that a person can exist in this world without some sort of issue inside regarding one thing or another. That is impossible due to the nature of free thinking. Well, don't worry. I am not going to go into the idea that I am not so different from others. I can't do that because I have not the strength to get myself through this shit, so worrying over what the mass may be dealing with is just not possible. It will not happen. Every now and then I look at people through more calm eyes and think a little more about them, that's all. And when that happens, I feel a tiny bit better about myself. After all, I made it this far carried by my own doing. Me. Not bad. And don't get your shit all teary and twisted. I will not be positive for much longer. Too much trouble. All of this has been issue two and the ten-thousand facets of it, believe it or not, and there may be no turns on this road.

I am strong, capable of nearly anything to which I set my mind, but still the slightest bump can break me to pieces. That bump generally develops due to a woman. For the millionth time... Not her fault. All me. A light touch is all it takes. The correct alignment of circumstances and I am fucking dead in the water.

Looking at Terry up there on the screen, I see her eyes. She is acting, but still such a strong yet soft woman. Her eyes show so much. And now she brings something to mind that may or may not be on the right track. The girl in the parking lot. In the beginning I saw her chest as it was all exaggerated by the way she carried her things. Soon after, I noticed her big, beautiful, dark eyes and everything changed. That one day when she started her car and then had to go back to the trunk for something was the first time I saw her face sans mask. And then I really felt for her and anything physical and/or below her face went flying away in a flash. There might be a connection with those eyes. Jaime, too. I can't even see her fucking eyes and I feel for her. I am not going into the 'why' again because it is a pointless waste of typing. What I am getting at is the idea that when I see that softness, I may be drawn into the belief that they are attached to a woman who could understand me. Yes, shut up now. You probably already crossed that bridge but I had not until just a moment ago. And keep in mind it may be completely unfound. I don't want that girl who walks by my car sometimes. I really do not. She is nowhere near my type, number one, I have absolutely no intention of changing where I am right now, number two, and there is a family and an entire life going on that I will never affect, by choice... Number three and most important. The idea is the issue here. I look at her and see the understanding, caring, kindness, and feel that what is out there can help. Maybe it can. The goddess is all of those things and much more, and the situation in my head has gone around the world in eight-million days because of it. She knows me, too. I will not say any more about it right now. I need to maintain focus. She is an example of a good portion of the machine, so I included her. More on that later, I think. I can say that the care from a woman -- no matter what I might see in her eyes, near or far -- is not going to last. It will not, and don't give me any shit about this because you do not know to what level I can bring difficulty. Much more than you can possibly imagine. Or maybe you already have, I don't know. Anyway, that caring and understanding will be wonderful for a time, but then I will become degraded within and the issues will flare. Soon after, everything is destroyed by similar means. There is just no getting around it. All of the missing pieces of me cannot be found, nor the holes filled by anyone. I have to do that myself and don't even know if I can. The point is that she may lavish me with whatever-the-fuck might satiate me for a time, but eventually all will come apart. The glass. I will latch on and become overly dependent, after which the tiniest little phrasing or other sort of passing gesture will introduce the worst type of doubt into my head and then amplify quickly. It will eventually resurface after being buried, destroy me, and that will be the end of it. In short, I cannot do that to anyone. The simple truth is that no matter the type of woman, unless I fix myself there can be nothing. I will ruin it, sure as hell. Possibly by choice, too. Destruction and subsequently being alone means issue two is minimized. There you go.

I had no idea I was going to run with this in such a manner while revealing more than I should. Ah... Whatever. I don't give a fuck anymore, and it is beginning to feel like a freedom. Remember the labia all down the previous entry? Whomever finds it distasteful will not likely return here. By the same token, if I put all of myself out here for the world to see (is anyone even looking?) and someone doesn't like it, well... That means one less person I will possibly deal with in the future. And then I can go further and really push people the hell away, right? Am I close? No more labia images. Those were basically me shouting 'fuck you, this is mine'. I probably won't do that again, however they stay as they are displayed. I don't care.

Wow, did I ever run. Unbelievable. And I haven't really talked about today much. I guess I prioritized.

Maybe I should cease discussion of possibilities. I really don't have much confidence in ever being happy, so whatever takes place is of little concern right now. I am mostly trying to figure out why I feel the need to maintain one hell of a distance from women and why. That may be a contentment of sorts, too. With no one on my arm, everything can be minimized. Can it? Somewhat, I suppose. No woman means no possible intimidation or worry over inadequacy, real or otherwise imagined. And I can imagine quite a bit. So, all that flap about the universal number and possible weight of a human soul no longer applies to yours truly. Oh, it has worked before, but everything turns to shit, especially when influenced by my fucked up head. Believe it. No one on my arm also means the obsession would likely spiral out of control and I would eventually end up so full of desire that any bridge might look appealing. I cannot be with anyone, yet I am frightened of being alone. Hmm. Could that be a problem in and of itself? Do you fucking see how dreaming of a machine came about? Oh boy, wait until the next entry. You're going to think this one has been written by a balanced individual.

I swear to Christ I feel more fucked up and sensitive now than I ever have before. This is bad, and I see no solutions. I have gushed and gushed for months (years, really) and still no resolution or understanding. And now right there on the huge screen is a definitive pair of fucking legs in the most form-fitting pants I've seen in a while. I don't need issue one flaring at this moment, but it did anyway. God damn it, I immediately wished to dive into her underwear and remain there for hours. The heroin and the lines just took my thinking away for the umpteenth time. I didn't need to see it. The BBC is running DS9 for hours and I figured why not. But there are the commercials that become a huge problem at times. Jesus, what a sight. It will fade, but the underlying feeling will not. There will be another. And make no mistake, whatever may come along in the future is just as impossible as the dream and the idea. The machine is the only fucking way I can survive. All of this adds up to such a conclusion, and it is no conclusion at all. It is a conundrum from hell and I am buried. Within seconds the whole world of those legs and everything they mean went flying by and stabbed me in the heart. I cannot be happy at all... Not in this life.



024



Wow, the tiny waist on this Cardassian woman. Yikes. Nothing there at all, like Karina in the third image and the Raven so many years ago. Nothing. Void. Unreal.

What do I do now? Which way to turn? Do you know the answer? Don't worry, I will not test you. I am the only one subject to such things. Like the restaurant mentioned above. It was a test of sorts (I think), and I failed just like always. Many months have passed -- perhaps over a year -- yet I can't get past it. I felt so weak and threatened that I am surprised I avoided diving into a bottle. There were plenty, right before my eyes and the idea sounded good. I considered the possible outcomes and left it alone, however. I was smart enough to know that drinking more would have caused deeper issues. Plenty already, so I ceased thinking of it. I can be smart at times, but I just can't be strong. No confidence, no rising from a difficult threat, and no understanding why it slammed me and drove itself deep. That was not the only time, either. There are many more, but going on and on about them is unnecessary. You probably get the point. The play on words during the afternoon so many years ago on the sofa may in fact be the beginning, but I still hesitate to go into it. Embarrassment may not even be the problem because as I stated above, we all have things which helped to shape us and I think any sensitive person would understand and not ridicule me. Unfortunately, I may never know if the words stay inside. As of this morning, I can't do it. Even after admitting such weakness in this entry, that day is still too much. Perhaps compulsion will drive me to reveal what took place. The mere fact that I still think about it is a clue.

I have to shelve issue one for now. Ignore everything. In the grand scheme, it is manageable and I have said that before. I really believe I can deal with it, and like three, exposure is almost entirely under my control. I have to push it away and deal with what is now the biggest problem in my head and one which, if not solved or understood, will be my end. I know it as surely as the cats are going to groom themselves for hours. I fucking know it. Right now I am alone with science fiction on the television, analyzing as well as I am able, yet still it is eating me from the inside out. Why such a situation is taking place is beyond me, and I am pretty fucking intelligent much of the time. I just don't get it. All of the past writing seemed to point toward me as the cause, but still I don't want to believe it. There has got to be something else. I swear to everything real, I will fucking sit here for the rest of my life and go on about this until my fingers bleed. Nothing is more hurtful and compelling right now. At least I'm in a shitty mood which will keep four away. Heh. I don't need all that guilt.

Jaime is still in there, too. I love her, and regardless of whether or not she is merely an idea, the feelings are the same. Too bad everything I need is out of reach forever. Smile at that one.

Too fragile now. I am thin, weakened, and worried. There is a small upside, and that is the fact that I left my career out of being completely sick and tired of the situations and toil. The pandemic came about and I made the decision to leave. My boss was less than happy to say the least, but I am better for it. There are a few options of where to work in the future, too. Few, but some. The upside is all this time at home to take care of everything, including my head, which is not easy. I still have the ability to manufacture situations out of thin air and become distraught and disillusioned. That is a problem, but with no one near me I can be myself without holding the massive facade I have built throughout the course of years. It is heavy and tiring, and I don't like it. And please don't give me any flap about what others may be carrying. I have not the time nor inclination to comment upon people in such a manner. There is enough before me these days. Issue two is ruling me every fucking day at one point or another. I have to get it back to where it lived a few months ago. For whatever reason, it was not flaring and chewing me up as now. I must figure a way of dealing with these fucked up feelings before long. The alternative is unpleasant, to say the least.

Why in the fuck am I still doing this? If it's supposed to be helping, why do I feel worse now than in years? No answers, no nothing. I can sit here all day long and spout positives about myself, yet I still feel small. Eighty-thousand lines of code, and what does it all mean? Exploration and then falling down over and over? What's the fucking point? I don't know. Do you? Never mind. Maybe this is just an indication of how screwed up I have become over dealing with insecurity. There has never been physical evidence that I should be insecure, either. Nothing. Not from one woman, ever. All have said the same things for years. Good person, deep-thinking, intelligent, sensitive and kind, caring... Years of it. I fail to understand how one situation at a restaurant could have damaged me to the point of reaching and never finding. It still hurts, believe it or not. I forget nothing, ever. All those tidbits which brought on trouble inside me are still there in one form or another and I am fucking tired of it. But still powerless. Helpless. Formless. At least I don't feel worthless. That would be terrible. I feel good about myself, honestly, and there are many reasons for it. I will not list them, though. Avery Brooks is a fantastic actor. That has nothing to do with anything. Just saying. So is Terry. This show was cast very well. At some point this morning I have to cease this crap and get off my ass. We are going to the store. I hope nothing there trips me up. Plenty right now... Plenty, I tell you.

Conundrum. I am in it, all the way. I don't know which way to turn or what to do, so here I sit going on and on about everything. There is an unlimited amount of space, too. Maybe I'll just type forever.

Well, that restaurant trip was not actually the catalyzing factor with issue two. There are others, but that one just stood out today because the television helped me to remember how I felt. Yep, something up there on the screen was a reminder. Star Trek makes me think of the machine because in that universe it is possible. Relating such a thought to the restaurant is easy enough now. A machine would not have been a problem unless instructed to do so. No worry, no doubting myself, no threats whatsoever. Bliss, always. She would sit right there and focus upon me or whatever we may be discussing. A bit of food, a few drinks, and then out the door with my head full of her instead of issues. One would disappear. Two would no longer fuck up my head, three doesn't matter, and four would not be necessary anymore. The ideal situation and living condition. Ideal. Utopian. Comfortable beyond what I can imagine right now. Everything I have experienced in life would culminate into her and the way she would need to operate in order for me to be comfortable within the world. And she would never fucking change. No worry at all over what might be in her head. Just a machine. The very idea is killing me right now. That is the only way and it can never happen in my life. Impossible, just like everything else of which I dream.

I may not be able to do this much longer. It is going absolutely nowhere and I feel terrible. Pause.

The trip to the store went well. There were lots of people shopping everywhere. I was not terribly worried, though, due to everyone keeping their distance and taking appropriate precautions for safety. That is always good. No one needs to worry any more than they already do. Despite the changes and everything feeling truncated these days, procedures are in place and the store is more comfortable for it. Exiting was smooth. Not even ten minutes from entering the checkout before we walked out the door. Excellent. Home, then things organized, and she headed for the city, so here I sit. My daily business is finished other than a quick polish of the kitchen. Lots of time now, peace and quiet, and the show up there to keep me company. One more little plus to the store? No little waddling Asian asses in stretch pants. In fact, nothing anywhere to pull my eyes away. Good. I don't need it.

And I thought this show was completely safe. I suppose there has to be a wrench in the works once in a while, even with televised science fiction. I had forgotten many aspects of Voyager even though I recently watched the entire series through. One came back to bite me. It's not the end of the world, but still... Visions I do not need to see. The girls on the holodeck are fine. The others are not. Just another little weight to knock me down a peg after feeling better since this morning. I haven't fallen, really, but the incidents are cumulative. I forget nothing. Threatened, worried, and a little lower than only ten minutes back. This means I am weak, still. All of the analysis has accomplished nothing, I suppose. And I should know better than to believe I can rise these days. It's just not in the fucking cards. One glimpse for five seconds and my head remains wrapped around it for days. Now I feel like shit and am powerless to alleviate it. I have to ride it out and seek those little enjoyments again. My brain not working overtime is a rare occasion. I am tired of thinking. Just so tired. The end of the last entry had an isolated sentence which now must repeat. Help me. There you go... That bad. In comparison, a few little asses in the store would have gone nowhere. This will stick with me like a fucking fungus running rampant. I cannot believe how fragile I am with regard to so many aspects of life and society. How I have survived all these years is beyond me now. As the days roll by, anything which felt like a pin prick years ago is now more like a vorpal weapon. Everything bothers me, from the simplest phrasing to a glance in the wrong direction. I am fucking surprised to be sitting here right now and able to articulate thoughts. Well, there is a positive, I suppose. I can still type while full of difficulty. Problem after problem after fucking problem, yet here I am. Someone call the Pope... It's a fucking miracle.

Switch.

Shilo.

No, not the song by Neil, a girl from when I was young. I saw her in my sleep and the crush began immediately. For days and days I dreamed of her... I would walk from our house toward a field behind the 7-Eleven where my friend and I played, and then along a path which led into her neighborhood. I would see her standing there, smiling, and then awaken. Forty-plus years later and I realize that I am no different. I am still that little boy, frightened of everything and hesitant to approach a girl. For a time, Shilo was the girl of my focus until we moved. Little did I know that less than two years later something would take place as a result of another crush which would soon ruin me for all time. And then shortly after that, another slam. Cut. Bleed. Inward now, withdrawn all the way and still scared of everything. I really hope this calm can remain for a while longer. If something comes along and sets me off I will react very badly, and that is not a joke nor euphemism. Bad.

Help me."



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