October 24, 2020 6:21am pdt

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Interval Three

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"The time is going to reset back to standard in the next several days. I don't remember the exact Sunday, but it doesn't matter. Less daylight is a good thing.

Today is Thursday and my brain is on overload.

I will have the house to myself for several hours in a bit. I need it. Yesterday I had the time and space to finish everything I set out to do, and then was able to go and visit someone else. While there, we discussed the past and people who had affected us in good ways. I recalled the man from whom I had rented a room shortly before leaving Michigan, too. Even his full name. I have not thought about living there in quite some time. The conversation was wonderful and had me pretty damned emotional before long.

I had to cruise over to the market early this morning and Ursa was at the end of the driveway all vertical and glowing. A half turn toward the garage door and there was Orion staring down. Just like all those years out there in the morning waiting for my partner to pick me up for work, the constellations are there for my wonder. Years. Like, nearly eight, and in all that time not much changed. This morning I stepped out the door toward the car and there was the big pot, just like when I was young. The recent foray into my love for the four-year period leading up to exiting California hit yet another little peak this morning due to the stars again. All at once the period of working in the glass plant flashed inside and had me at sixes and sevens. I drove to the store hearing the dipshits on the radio and their never-ending slew of off-color language. I stopped listening to them a long time ago but tune in every now and again for some music. I should know better on a Friday morning. Anyway, on the way back with my items I felt a strong pull toward the past again, and the crisp air went right through me. I mentioned years. Well, this is the trailing end of October, a part of each year over which I obsessed and dreamed during the other months. I would normally be at work right now or on our way, yet still I am home. And today is Friday. Even worse.

This would be the best work day of the week, and afterward would usually lead to a bar visit in the afternoon. And then Saturday, which was my favorite. Up early, computer and coffee, laundry going, and something on the television to keep me company in the otherwise quiet house. A Saturday in the fall, cool weather, shorter days. I am up against it right now but everything is different. I do not feel the same. The holidays are fading. All those things which carried me through the longer, tougher days of the year and led up to my favorite three months are no longer available. This period feels surreal, cold, and uninviting. My little drive to the market early this morning flooded me with everything, from the glass plant thirty years ago to the previous fall season just last year. I tried to keep it going. Even less than two weeks ago I made another attempt to return the holiday/football enjoyment to the living room and failed.

Trying to recreate what I had is futile because I am different and the others are gone.

My ex recommended that I begin new traditions some years ago. The big dinner in the Roxy started that idea as we sat and I realized what the affair had meant to me. Past visits to Nevada popped into my head and I began to see the younger generation sitting where I had been. Well, none of it ever materialized because I fucking flew the coop too many times to develop any kind of connections. The older generation (older than I am now) had settled into traditions and routines while out and about, and those translated to the way I feel these days about the same. I learned much and retained everything. Ah... Losing my train. Fuck.

Switchtrack.

Reduced, like the au jus of life. I am small, a fraction of my former self, frail and weakened by being beaten down over and over. My wishes are gone. The dreams are nonexistent. The past accomplished nothing. I sit here at this moment feeling unimportant and disregarded. The simplicity of one idea ruined everything and I realized just how small the wish had been. Not good at all. I now feel that in the eyes of 'them' I am of little consequence, once again, just like two weeks back when I flipped the fuck out and fired word-missiles at others. I do not feel like doing the same, so everything will remain inside until the change and forest are flourishing.

On the drive back this morning I embraced more sensitive, emotional music so as to right my head before arriving home to be as alone as I require. Here I sit at the outset of the day with hours before me all laid out and wide open. Unfortunately, much time is necessary for me to relax about the events of last night. I have to reconcile everything prior to taking steps around the house. Nothing will be completed until such time as I can handle the situation delicately. For now, just the television and computer. My choice of music helped me to begin with a calmer mindset.

Ugh... Pressure. I do not fucking need that today. Another switch.



321

Literally, the closest I've seen



Two words and my insides became a torque test. Yep... Another test. I didn't need it but I am to blame. This is the third time something caused so much distress that I nearly ran away. The second was not as bad, and pretty far back in time. I wrote and dealt with it because I have no other options. I just have to swallow the whole fucking shitaree. And naturally I can't spill it here. The moment was sidestepped and then I expressed something along the same lines as a reverse test and passed. How it happened I'll never know. One certainty is that right now, Friday evening, and I am wrestling still. Twenty-eight hours later, I'm worse. Scared and small. Sometimes I am glad to be me, yet during worrisome moments I wish I could be someone else.

Torque. And believe me when I say my education in such a concept of physics is extensive. Bad.

I've said over and over that something needs to change or I won't survive. Well, I don't see it. Most likely I will end up alone because that is the safest place. Back during the blissful period, I had been yearning to grab her and run to somewhere far north and peaceful. I studied and dreamed of kissing life here goodbye but it was too much of a stretch. Stuck, and I didn't even realize how happy the situation had been. I was fucking tired of the population yet did not have to deal with it most of the time. Adventuring to a new place with cool weather was very appealing. I have been thinking in such terms lately due to the idea of being completely alone. Every place I've wanted to live has turned off my partners. All of them. No one can seem to deal with the idea of such separation. I still can, and due to the most recent plummet, it's returning. The feeling of no one there to hear, and no ears listening to what I am saying. The bottom line is I would be forced to turn inward without any influence from others. The change? Perhaps. I am suggesting the problems are within, but words from the outside cause them to worsen. I have no control over people, meaning the only answer may be no contact unless absolutely necessary.

Those two words dredged a memory from early eleven. Might have been late ten. I'm not sure. The evening was partially spent with another couple, the wife being outspoken. I sat and listened to her regaling the group with a tale from a trip to a show in the city. Nothing displayed on my face other than the expected social stance. Later? I came to a sudden realization that the Brunette and I were eventually doomed. The conversation was hell for me but taken in stride by everyone else. I did not understand. They bounced observations back and forth and I heard every detail until forming images in my head of what I was. And then their words cut deeply. Insensitive, threatening, and hurtful, but no one seemed to bat an eye other than me. Soon after, we strolled up the hill and across the bridge. I knew no peace until the apartment was dark and quiet some hours later. I wish I had never visited them. That night is a scar. Two words brought that evening to the forefront which had been pushed away for many years. I may never rid myself of them again. Alone. The only way.

Speaking of alone, once again I am on the back burner. I would probably get more responses and attention from one of those dead fucking tilapia on the shore of the Sea. Unbelievable. And then I'm asked something which is as rare as the Sea’s water. Equally unreal. My importance is diminishing. I may have to open my mouth soon. Never in my fucking life have I felt so disregarded. Fucking sick of it, but as I've stated way too many times, I placed myself here. Nice work, dumb fuck. Whatever. I can take steps with that crap. Onward.

'Go check it out, Wendy!'. Maybe all I need is a fireman's axe to illuminate others. It worked for Jack.

Saturday morning. The one I spoke of up the page. This is different, though. I am sitting where I used to when working, and the cat would come over and screw up my positioning. Coffee to the left, pillow there to support my left elbow while typing, feet on the table. He'd come by and walk across the keyboard as characters appeared and disappeared until I had a chance to fix everything. Then he would finally lie down on my arm so as to make my coffee cup unreachable. Trying to recreate the way I felt about a Saturday morning a year ago is futile. I cannot. Too much is different. Even the sleep time was not the same. The clock just hit half past four, whereas I would normally have sat here at least an hour later. I suppose the time is not that bad, but keep in mind I have been awake for a solid hour already. That means I'll be tired late in the afternoon when it catches up to me. I awakened to use the bathroom and that was that. There is just too much in my head nowadays. Once awake, the processes begin and leave me sans comfort. So, here I sit due to a lack of options yet again. No light outside for at least two more hours. Fuck.



322

Maybe I need to speak with a nun



Yesterday turned out to be partially worthless. I didn't do much. My brain disallows clarity sometimes and after completing my daily business and having lunch, I could not find a direction at all. The only positive is that I drove. The morning was no big deal, although had I not driven the afternoon would have been much worse. At least there was a small goal and schedule. Ed Harris is walking into a foggy cemetery. Not a good idea in any movie. Heh. Jesus, he was so young in this, too. Almost forty years ago. Wow. Anyway, I have yet to figure out why some days are so fucking difficult while others seem to float along as if they were meant to happen. This morning, for example.

Less than four hours and movie time will commence. Hmm... I will have to be mindful of the choices. After falling down again I am in no mood for more shit. Even this morning and a film from more than thirty years ago which I always enjoyed, there was a clincher. A snap hook. A slap. But I cannot be specific, of course. And probably not what you might suspect, either. Anyway, movie time was also two days ago for a little while and we watched an excellent story. No worries there at all, but then again, I select everything to which we are exposed. For good reason, too. Sometimes the choice means there will be something I have to deal with due to the content, but typically the overall film is worth it. Some features are too excellent for passing just because one little tidbit makes me uncomfortable. Early this morning -- like half past three for fuck's sake -- I was lying there with all sorts of trouble in my head. Perhaps that is the reason behind becoming so agitated that I could not fall back asleep. Not certain.

Fear creates everything.

I have not spoken of this with anyone, and after being reminded of that fucking crap almost ten years ago, I may never speak to anyone about anything, ever. I see no help there. I see no help anywhere, really, but I am pretty fucking smart and can work on things deep inside while keeping the harm away. No one understands me anyway, partially due to being closed off and partially due to my penchant for watching everything and then adapting myself into something completely unexpected. As I said... Pretty smart. I could bullshit my way out of the champion liars' convention. Heh.

Eh, what I saw on the screen a little while ago has been burned into my head for decades due to knowing the film so well. Back then I just laughed at the sight and subsequent facial expressions, yet now the scene is a huge obstacle in my morning. So different then. Everything seems amplified now, as if the tiniest pebble in my path can trip me up and create difficulty for days. I don't know how or why, but my sensitivity is at an all-time high. I've said some of this before, but honestly I know not which way to turn so I just keep typing the words over and over. Maybe I should stop trying. The entries have already been shortened in the interest of maintaining some kind of flow, so leaving out my feelings on anything which stirs that old worry will truncate this content even more. Years of nothing means I have to believe I will never change anyway, so why beat the issue?

Awake for two hours now. Damn it. The other end of this day is going to be tough. Still not a hint of light out there.

I am so sick of movies and television shows depicting tires squealing when there is no tread on them, like stock cars. The interaction between the tread pattern and the pavement is what creates the sound. Slicks do nothing of the sort, but they have to add that ridiculous squeal so the drama and/or tension can be heightened. So stupid. Whatever. Sorry.

I don't know what the hell I'm saying anymore. Maybe I should stick to stories. This shit is going nowhere fast, but for some reason I just keep typing. Where am I?

What the fuck do I have to look forward? A pizza and Star Trek on the television?"



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