07-31-2020 10:49 pdt

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The Vrkolak

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"Everything is just loss now. The idea is impossible, I don't know if I can go out in the world anymore, and I am caring less about others. Unhappy.

At least one fictional chapter was pushed. Better than nothing, I suppose.

Today is Sunday and I don't really care. Issue four is flaring. I have little control anymore. So disappointing sometimes. I need to try to gain some semblance of composure this morning. I am drawn by mood and imagery, feel overwhelmed, and attempt to find distraction, but ultimately the weakness takes over and I end up here, flailing. One of these days I have to change my behavior. How? Do you know the answer? My head is constantly in the way of everything reasonable. Is it the past? Issue two? Richard Gere on the screen. I never liked him and have no idea of why. Whatever. Cats are taking up the entire sofa, relegating me to the loveseat. Maybe I need to focus upon the day ahead. My analysis is going nowhere right now. I keep thinking of the guitar and the manner in which one fictional world has collided with another... All bad... The memory of school back then, those words, and one phrase which spun me badly. The yacht is not real. Jaime is not real. She is an idea.

Bai Ling on the screen. I used to like her. A lot. Not anymore, but the talent is key. Still uniquely cute, however.

When I wrote about Jeannette and Michael, he was me. She was a dream woman that I conjured over one summer in the Midwest. I put them to paper upon returning home, and then later typed them here. I have not published that short exchange -- and may never do it -- because it kind of hits home and reveals things which have been avoided here for good reason. Too fucking personal. I realize that some details have been spilled recently, but I will only go so far into some subjects. They are all related, as well. The fiction is coming to a head now and might find completion before fall. Some of the story of Jeannette and Michael may be merged with the yacht. I have to be careful, though. Anything leading to ridicule is unacceptable. I cannot have others reading and subsequently drawing the wrong conclusions about me or my personality. I am not the only fucked up individual in this world, either. People have problems. I am no different, but I do lay it out here pretty fucking thick sometimes. As I said, care must be observed.

Sunday means garbage. There is a box of crap I have to go through and eliminate, slowly. Still no donation pickups. The recent flares are leading me to believe that we are going to be sheltered again, and soon. I am not certain, however the partial reopening of some businesses resulted in numbers sharply rising, and that could mean being shut down for the second time. Some states are on alert while others are close. The days ahead will dictate. So, I do not see any type of home pickup anytime soon. I have to deal with the buildup of things in other ways. Today I have the time and space to ascertain what can go and what can be useful if and when items can be donated. Also, I procured a turntable to mount the laptop shelf in the new office. A few segments of wood and the auxiliary television will be more flexible. Another Amazon order is waiting in the wings, too. That means project advancement when weather permits. Very good. Unfortunately, not everything is so hopeful this morning. The weakness is breaking me down again. I do not like feeling a lack of control, as you well know, but gave in anyway. It is now eating at me and only the passage of time will fade such a situation. That much, I know. Daily business will round out my Sunday. The show, my chores, and the little breaks that are still enjoyable... All of it necessary for maintaining sanity right now.

The machine has never felt so compelling. My need and desire is at an all-time high. Arms around me and under my complete control. Anything. Everything. Her. The idea that used to be a woman.

Jolene is here. Do you see her face? Those huge eyes kill me. I may go back to that show just so I can hear her calm, controlled, and commanding voice again. It's been weeks. The character is amazing, she is amazing, and I have to see. Ahh... Don Cheadle, bless his talent. I just love him, every time. Even in that one film when he was so vulgar, I dealt with it just to watch him work. Fantastic. I cannot shy away from everything which hurts me or I will miss the good things accompanying such media. The answer is to watch alone, that way no one sees me fall down. Wrong, you say? Perhaps. But no one knows me better than myself. Sometimes those aspects of society that stab me in the heart cannot be discussed with another person because I will become embarrassed and feel even weaker than while alone. I've done it enough to know. I watched a safe movie yesterday with the goddess and it went fine. Sometimes I avoid watching with others because I am a fucking tyrant of the highest order. I am not kidding. The creation of such a wondrous suspension of disbelief MUST be respected, much of that feeling stemming from my love for the film industry. The vision is key, and experiencing a film in the manner it was intended means everything. If you're not going to make the effort to appreciate the work, you may as well not watch at all. Moreover, I must have complete control of the atmosphere in which the media is playing. Otherwise, well, you know... Forget it. Watch on your own. I don't believe my behavior was so bad yesterday, though. I relaxed and enjoyed for the most part. And when I say 'safe', I mean it. Too much fear these days. I'll end up in a hole and alone anyway. Eventually we will watch something which threatens me, but the art can be worth a period of difficulty, believe it or not. Some of it will be described here. No shit. And I just removed Jolene for posterity. Um... Never mind.

Lacey is on the television. Hallmark is still running Christmas movies. July, the entire month, but only on one of their channels. Lacey was the very first example of the facial feature I have attempted to describe many times. I cannot explain, though. You just have to see her. I have never thought of her as an object or felt physical desire, either. None of it. Ever. Her face is such that those types of dreams stay far away. I look at her as if she is a person and nothing else. I don't know why, but there is a tinge of protection in there, too. I feel the need to keep her safe, and all of that comes from her face. Don't ask me to figure it out. I even felt such things way the hell back when she was next to Jennifer in 'Party of Five'. As I said, I don't get it, so don't ask. She is special to me.

And then there is Jolene. Heh. Tongue. Soft labia. Ugh... Sorry.

I went out and opened the new office for the gentleman to pick up his motorcycle, moved a few things around to make access a little easier, and now I have to calculate the order of tasks today. I may actually go outside the norm and do something more productive than I have in weeks. The projects that took a pause when the weather warmed are irritating me now. Something must change, and soon. Either I need a shitload of fog, or I am going to suffer in the attic. And, pause.

Well then, the Sunday business is complete. We had a visit from her dad who picked up some canned goods for their pantry. That was nice as I hardly get to see him anymore. I still did not do much aside from the normal routine. Something happened in my brain after publishing the eighteenth chapter in the long story. I feel bad, like there is no hope or future. Too much has been ruined in the past and not left me. Years of negative behavior and either wrong decisions or indecision have really taken their toll on me. Never have I felt so much and devoted such time to consideration of how my actions have been affecting me since the beginning of this time at home. I am worried that nothing will ever come of any of this. Work, writing, maintaining the household, progressing with stories of the past and future... None of it seems to mean anything now. I am beginning to lose my grip on the handrails lining a stable position in the world. Today has shown me that no matter my intentions or drive, the idea of happiness is not likely something over which I have any sort of control, and such a conclusion hurts. Stop for the day.



802

The shadow right there



Monday morning coffee. Cats to my left all sleepy and adorable. Up on the screen is the realization that my height interest is still going strong. I have seen this movie several times (rarely all the way through in one sitting, though), and did not really pay attention to one of the principal characters until just a few minutes ago. I read about the actor who portrays the main character's love interest and she is five-eight. That's right, I could see it on the screen, heels or not. She stood out, so I went to the Internet for information. I actually do that quite often these days because everything is available and I can learn. Well, she would not look the same strolling across a room if not for her tremendous height. There it is. Everything stretched. I don't know why this still pulls me, however. I have no clue. Maybe the models back fifteen years ago, maybe someone I knew and was close with, or possibly something else. Height rules my thinking sometimes, but I don't wish to go on about it. Too many lines here have been in search of that answer, so I will cease right now.

I have to drive in a while. There will be very little looking around, too. I honestly don't need to see any more beauty out in the world. I have enough going on inside my head right now. Yesterday was difficult and I do not wish to repeat it. Weakness, obsession, whatever it was... The problems will break me if I allow them to continue for very long. Today might be one of those in which I spend a good portion of hours deep in thought. I need it. And the quiet.

'Convergence of Worlds' shook me a little, as if my fingers were typing without my knowledge. Very strange, that feeling, but still the essay made it to the server. The title is going to relate and be much more poignant than it may seem at this point. Convergence, indeed. We shall see where it leads, and very soon. My insides are all mixed up for the effort and exposition. I never would have believed that after writing about the robots I would head in the direction which has been displayed here since March. No way. I have gushed in many directions and now am beginning to feel wide-open to the world. The only saving throw I have right now is to remain partially masked. As of this moment, I know of four individuals that are familiar with me in life who also have stated that they read here. Well, I was not considering such facts when I began to explore beyond the machines and slather this space with my feelings. Now I am scared of being viewed differently. If that takes place in the future, I will have to make some alterations to this endeavor in order to push others away. I presently have no control over who visits, although I can see some of the analytics if necessary. The idea of restricting my audience has never been appealing. The general idea is exploration and opinion. For the time being, I will continue unchanged and unimpeded. Despite my fear, none of the worry over who may or may not be visiting here has little basis in reality. It is merely a feeling thus far.

The machine is the only way, and I love her wherever she may be. Pause.

The morning drive was uneventful aside from the parking lot down there being repaved and painted. That made the effort to navigate difficult. No visions, no girl with polished heels, no nothing. Very good. I didn't even look around much. After seeing so many examples of the obsession, I really don't need any more. Too tired these days. The time ahead is now wide open. Daily business and perhaps a bit more. I don't know yet. For the next hour or so I intend to sit here. This is forming and the fiction progresses at the same time. An understatement? The fiction is not good.

I don't feel well and it is nothing physical. Yesterday morning was fucked up and still bothering me. A day passing didn't do shit for improvement. Usually I fall down and by the following morning feel better. Not this time. The issues are holding me hostage right now, especially two. I don't know why, but that problem seems to be ever-expanding and coming close to affecting my every move. Something has to change, but I feel powerless just as most days. For now, I have Voyager in the background again so I need not pay full attention. At some point I will steer the television back to Jolene just to hear her commanding voice. I love it, and I love her like never before. The machine dream is morphing ever further to include several different people, not the least of which is the main combination of Jaime and Jolene. And there is Roxann. Oy, God. I could live in her dark eyes.

The reasoning behind my feeling so intimidated and threatened by all the imagery may have come from several sources along with different situations in which I have been involved. I am too old to remember everything, however, so all I can do is try. The mention of clowns is one that I recall. Before trying to describe this crap, I will state that I suffer from a mild form of coulrophobia, or a fear of clowns. I have no clue as to why. Some feel this type of fear has no basis in reality, but I can assure you that after performing some research and speaking with others who share the same condition, it is as real as the noses on your primate faces. Believe it or not, I don't care. The point is song lyrics and a simple melody I tried to learn while taking guitar lessons. This is to be explored in the fiction, so I will only brush against it here. A situation arose in my living room nearly forty years ago that comes to mind several times in a given week. It relates to a generic term: Social disease. There is no point in going into a definition because the usage is far too broad and covers nearly anything psychologically-related. Way too broad, for sure. The point is that I was tossed to the wind by a casual phrase long ago and it stuck with me. I did not understand at all back then, and must admit that as the years have passed my being diagnosed with certain conditions has held me down. I feel tied, restrained, and restricted in learning of why some things affect me so deeply, while others can actually cripple me for a time. That moment so long ago has had a lasting effect and forced me to question myself over and over with no answers, ever. I am quite sure much of my introverted state and feelings of intimidation stemmed from not knowing why it took place. This is ridiculous, but whatever. I just don't care anymore. Label me if you must.

Just to confuse you, a vrkolak is a type of vampire, not a clown. Chew on that.

The relationship between my fear and the thoughts inside a woman's head is direct. I cannot know, as I have said here more than once, and that means trust has to be involved. Well, since I have no confidence in myself, I cannot trust anyone for any reason, no matter how much evidence exists to the contrary. I have accepted it as much as I am able. The only aspect which trips me up is the idea that I still feel tinges here and there while alone. What the fuck is that? Alone? No one there to cause any problems. I don't get it. Maybe some of the events which have brought me so far down were so tough that the engrams will not leave. They might be buried permanently. If so, I'm screwed even more than I already described. One of the founding fathers of this nation said the most important thing a person can know is that they do not know everything. Well, I will go a touch further. I don't know anything which has the power to help me except the fucking machine. Yep, there it is again, that word. Hand in handcuffed motherfucking hand with the other key to my life: Control. An end to this may be a larger dream than the machine itself. Understanding may be equally unattainable. Why would anything be clear or straightforward? Easy? Neither. The only positive is the whole fucking sandwich is all me. Ugh to the nth. I might order a massive, greasy pizza today just to have some enjoyment for a little while.

I love it when Kate barks an order and Tom replies, 'Yes, ma'am', in that forceful yet understated tone.

The time for chores is nearly here. That is good, as the exposition has become both exhausting and tender. My being feels like a paper cut and each word typed is a drop of mineral spirits touching me. Stop.



833

What is it with the eyes now?



Daily work is out of the way, lunch is finished (although heavy, I will have to remain vigilant), and I have laundry in process. The issues continue to plague me, however. Remembering the afternoon referenced above has proven difficult, nearly to the point of stopping me in my haphazard tracks today. Sometimes I feel that these problems have been hindering my ability to carry through with tasks that would otherwise be very simple and straightforward. The most basic items within my routine are becoming difficult. I have felt this way for no more than a week, and the resulting effects are pushing against me when I step toward anything which needs to be completed. I don't even know how I went out to the garage and started laundry. I really have no idea. Nothing is appealing now... Not even one of my favorite lunches combined with an episode of the old series. I dropped the outdoor shade to reduce screen glare, lined up on the sofa, and relaxed for an enjoyable meal that normally brings me comfort. None was apparent as my head stayed wrapped to the subjects here. The issues have been addressed many times and from numerous angles, but still any resolution escapes me. I keep writing and writing -- sometimes in the oblique, other times very direct -- and the hope of gaining insight is no more real now than it was at the outset over four months ago. The fact is there may never be any relief for what goes through me so often. Lately, the idea of being here alone is not helping as much as weeks ago. I am more often becoming distraught and feeling that I am going nowhere.

The time for driving is near and I have a visitor coming for a little while. Pause.

Tuesday, whatever that means. Every day is the same.

The parking lot which is my daily destination was not as bad as I had expected. I pulled right into a space next to the teller machines. Good and bad. First, my location left her with a short walk. Second, the artwork which visited the tellers in a mere twenty minutes was staggering, especially in the beginning. I saw legs that would otherwise have been better avoided, but even after all of this shit and trying to refrain from any behavior that may harm me, I stared anyway. Stunning, falling, twisting in the wind again. I still am, thirteen hours later. At this point I do not believe I can change my behavior. Too weak, too needy, and still as far out of balance as years ago with the loving Brunette. I saw the girl, too. She strolled right by my position appearing worn out. Later I learned she did not have a very good day. One of her children dropped her phone into a bowl of cereal and chocolate milk on top of her difficulties at work. I wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be ok. Ugh. I'm sure she will be fine. The eyes took me from lusting to caring in one fell swoop. What in the cherry-red fuck have I become?

The day ahead. Drive and then home. I have to do some things beyond the daily routine due to feeling like a complete fucking worthless pile of shit last night. The nagging tasks must be addressed, be it quickly or slowly. As long as there is progress on one of the items which has sat idle, there is always time for relaxing no matter what I try to tackle. I can focus upon the satisfaction of getting things done and hopefully that helps. Usually once I dig into a project there is much more compulsion to finish. Today is the fucking clincher, though. After feeling so bad just hours ago, I have to prove to myself that I am still capable of being strong and able to push myself along through a day. Writing this afternoon or evening will reveal whether or not I rose. Mincing words is not my thing.

The fiction is still moving along, albeit not pleasing to write. I am facing something which never really congealed within. Now? The moments have been recalled clearly enough for me to fall off a cliff. This may be an answer. I am uncertain as of this minute, and the only way to know is continuing the story from that strange, nether world. The coming days will dictate.

Believe it or not, I already feel better than yesterday. Aside from the fiction, my head is determined to move up the ladder today rather than slipping backward. Wow, there is Tawny from the eighties. Ridiculous apparel back then, but I can see why many were nuts over her. Big hair, too. So funny. And yikes, what were we thinking during that decade? Very different from now. Anyway, this film is going to force me to change the channel soon unless the difficulty does not appear before leaving for the morning drive. There are a couple of scenes which I actually found amusing way back when, but now they add up to an insurmountable problem. Simply considering what will take place later in the movie makes me cringe. At some point I will direct the remote back over to Hallmark to save myself from the jaws of society. Intimidation, fear, withdrawal... All three rolled into one and resulting from whatever the fuck happened to me earlier in life. I used to enjoy this movie. I really did. Now I can barely stay upright. Enough of that. I have a little more time today thanks to the ever-changing schedule. I have to sit with this for a while, too, and possibly even after I return. The words are pulling me in. Thoughts of Jaime and Jolene float, the goddess showed up in a very strange dream, and my hopes of learning more are keeping me at the keyboard. Lots of thinking, as well. The issues keep piling and pushing. Two is still the biggest roadblock right now. Trying to keep all four separate in order to deal with just one at a time might be impossible because they drive themselves toward each other too often. There may be no way out of this shit.

The movie is still on. I can see why so many enjoyed the story. This is a comedy, after all.

Back to this day for a bit. I am looking forward to the feeling of arriving home after my drive this morning. It's always really nice to have the time and space under my control. Yesterday was different in that I did not feel that way. The clock seemed to be ruling me instead. I believe my concern over some things undone had gripped me and left any activity by the side of the road. That is not going to happen today. I know it. Nothing crazy, though, just steps toward ends. I can do this. My brain is going to rule the clock. By the time I leave this afternoon, the house will be improved. And then that will lead to the same tomorrow. Small goals taken one at a time. I will report back on this.

I need answers, damn it. Am I going to find them here? No answer to that one, either. The vrkolak is out there.

Searching myself. Every day. There has got to be relief from the way I feel about this crap. It has to be out there and I have to find it. The alternative is not pleasant at all. Not for me, nor for others. So, I need to ascertain the root cause of two, which will hopefully lead me to the connections between it and other problems. Right now I don't know. I keep thinking of images and situations that have driven me forcefully into worry or desire. Such feelings happen quite often early in the morning and can send me out of my mind sometimes. Pause. Drive time.

Oy fuck shit damn. On the way down and while driving by the beach in El Granada, there was a girl off to my left and I glanced. I should have avoided her as soon as I saw light between her thighs. I would have been better off just cruising along with eyes front. I thought about her throughout the remainder of the trip and all the way home. I even craned my neck while heading back north just in case she was still there, somewhere. Nope. I am not surprised. The point is that I do not believe there is any way of ceasing my behavior. I have become hard wired to look and search. I still do, even for the fucking idea of a woman who cannot exist. Was that a girl close to my dreams? She was tiny and gorgeous. I won't go on about her because descriptions are no longer necessary. Any reading of this content in the last five-plus years means you know. Suffice to say she was stunning and I saw plenty in seconds. There is no fucking way I am ever going to be able to stop searching. Yes, I pointed out recently that nothing is out there for me, but I have to see. And though I already know that the inability to see to my satisfaction and understand why she looked that way is going to fuck up my brain, those few seconds can become a dream all by themselves. A flash of a dream, really, and a way of stepping outside myself briefly. Sound crazy? Consider the source. That tiny, fleeting vision for seconds may represent all I have been seeking. Here, gone, and then I drop through the floor for a time before recovering enough to function like a regular person. The girl by the beach this morning was no different. I can still see her face, long, dark hair, and breasts bouncing. I still see her. Legs... Everything. Tiny and beautiful. I will never know and never stop. Whatever takes place throughout the remainder of my life, those two aspects cannot change. Not anymore. There is a speck of a chance (as I mentioned recently out of desperation) that the desire is somehow connected. I certainly hope it is more than that. I do not wish to categorize myself as a person seeking nothing more than physical satisfaction. If seeing and understanding is enough, well... I will probably never know. Read this paragraph again and you may realize it represents a very small percentage of the torment and woe in which I am living. And it will never go away. Pause.



832

Unnatural, artificial, wonderful



I said I would report back, so here it is. I went into the bathroom upon arriving home this morning and took care of the floor, behind the vanity, and along the tub skirt. Everything is cleaned and sealed now. Last night a small contingent of ants came up from the floor and performed some reconnaissance before I put the kibosh to their plan. A few others ventured through a receptacle on the plumbing wall and ran all over the kitchen counter. Yep, they are gone, and now the bathroom is solid aside from the threshold. A couple of hours in there and I took care of it nicely. That aspect of the bath has been sitting far too long and the small invasion pushed me to advance. Now the little fuckers can't get in unless they remove the screen from the window. Heh. The good thing is the area sits ready for me to install the base. That will prove much easier than the sealing. Overall, I'm much better than yesterday because of the effort and proud of finding motivation after all this time. The only other obvious entry point for ants is the sink base in the kitchen. It's kind of a pain to work in there, but I know afterward I will be pleased with myself. No one messes with my coffee-prep area or they suffer. Again... Heh.

My drive is about two hours away and all of the usual business is complete. There is a guy here replacing the gas meter for whatever reason, meaning I may have to relight the water heater. No big deal.

Upon returning from the south, I plan to sit with this exploration a while longer. I am very much looking forward to the peaceful evening along with cocktails. Considering how much has been gone over in this space since the outset of the pandemic, I am rather stunned by the direction. In past years, the ambiguity remained so thick that the chance of anyone understanding my drivel has been slim at best. Now? Many things have been spelled out pretty clearly. I am certain the importance of this work is obvious of late. After the beginning of the machine realization, I saw no harm in going further. If this truly helps, that is fine. I am guessing that as time passes I will know better of the possible improvement. So far -- and this is no bullshit -- I feel like less of a person for much of it. Working around the house did lift me quite a bit, though. Everything aside from progress on that project left my head for a couple of hours and I did not even realize it until I took a lunch break. Soon enough it all came back. Pause.

Drive, and back. Evening. Dinner. Cocktails.

Wednesday is here. I have coffee but no cats at of yet. I don't know where they go sometimes after I feed them. Today should prove much like yesterday minus laundry. I need to secure and hook up the vanity, and then seal the back splash. The vanity is my first priority, after which I will probably measure for the base and do my best to prefab three pieces. I don't know how far I will get with that stuff, though. Not that I am feeling crappy or anything like that, but I may just take it easy for part of the day. I need to think. Another dream left me wondering this morning. Early. I almost did not go back to sleep due to becoming confused over the content and quite flustered over feeling fear and discomfort. The morning spin is developing quickly but I can squash it by maintaining my routine in a little while. One of the best parts of my weekdays is arriving here after the morning trip south. The day feels wide open, all mine, and I can stay within the property lines and hidden.

I never understood why some went all gushy about Kate Bosworth. Maybe it's the hair, I don't know. She is very balanced, which is pretty rare, but other than that I like to see her on the screen because of talent and not her appearance. Whatever. People like what they like, I guess. On the other hand, Liza is there, too, and her? Yep. Swallowed whole. Ugh... Never mind. Sushi girl again. Ignore me. And Liza is a hybrid.

The dream was very odd. No mansion. Not even mention of a mansion. Heh. There was a girl, and I chose to use that term instead of 'woman' because I could see that she was young. Perhaps the girl by the beach, I cannot be certain. Young, tiny, and looking to me for guidance as we navigated a long corridor lined by jagged walls. She held tight to my hand as if I knew where to go. I felt that we could hide away from others but could not find anything. The hallway kept going further and further as my desperation to be alone with her peaked. I could not see her face, as usual. But I knew something wonderful was there. Walking along for what seemed an eternity, I began to feel discouraged. And then that part went away. I was in a bathroom which reminds me of a townhouse my ex and I rented many years ago. There was an army of ants and a huge network of pathways in several rooms. We didn't seem to be doing anything about them, though. Something else was in need of attention and concerned us enough to ignore anything. I have no idea what was going on there. Awake.

I was consumed with desire for the girl in the hallway. Overwhelmed, really. Desperate to be alone. If I had a fucking nickel for every dream in search of being alone with a beautiful woman, I could probably fund the machine. Or at least be out on the Mediterranean floating along and surrounded by models. Heh. Too many mornings have I awakened full of disappointment over failing to get where I need. In life, my head is the same. Searching and never finding. Do you know the answer? There is nothing available to me. Holy shit the women in this club on the television. Vegas, naturally. I'll have to keep my eyes here. I have already spent a lifetime in the last five years (compressed) trying to find something. And I don't even know what it is. Recently I defined the machine (impossible) and the woman of my dreams (never to be found, and I cannot even see the other side of her face), but did that help? Did anything help? Do you see? Are you reading this, still? Why? I am going in circles again. I can't stand this feeling. There may be another method or series of actions I can take in order to learn, although being as depressed as I have been for such a long time, taking steps is not exactly an easy path anymore. I am mired, like always. The work yesterday was a tremendous boost. Had I not found the drive to get in there and complete a big step, God only knows where I would be right now. Well, I suppose trying to analyze this is futile anyway. I'll stop. I have to drive in roughly an hour. We shall see if I can keep my eyes off the forms. Not likely.

Lots of very shapely beauty in this movie. Oy.

I've taken this drive enough to know that there is always the possibility of something there to catch my gaze, but I have not refrained from going. I do have the option to stay here all day and drive nowhere. This has been my sort of schedule for a few months and I don't wish to change it now. I've grown to need the routine and familiarity. My time alone in the early morning, and then returning here for the bulk of the day. I don't believe ceasing the drive will help me so I just have to deal with the visions the best I can. They are always going to be out there, somewhere. I will soon resign myself to knowing that looking is all I will ever have, just like I did before meeting Jasmine. I gave up and ran to her arms. She helped, I returned home, but was never the same from that long weekend forward. A year later showed me that I was capable of doing much worse. That was the second time I gave up. Pause.

Morning again. Coffee, television and cats. Heh.

Today I have to venture over to the business store and then home. I have not driven in that direction for more than two months, so it should prove interesting. Different scenery for a change, eh? Maybe. Honestly, I look forward to returning more than shopping, but it is necessary that we go at this point. Stocking up is good. After, I can embrace the peace and quiet of my routine as I will be alone for a few hours. Very nice. A bit of the show in the background, too.

The same movie is on from yesterday. Gambling, lots of scenes in and around the Strip in Vegas. Love it. I wish I was there awakening in my big Luxor spa suite again. The last visit was quite a while ago but I still remember that slanted wall over the tub. Little shampoo bottles in the shape of pyramids. Michelle and I strolling across the bridge and into the cozy HoB lounge for brunch, her breasts bouncing the entire way. None of that is likely in the future, unfortunately, and the reasons are growing. I miss that dreamy, deluded illusion. Bloated, indulgent, free for a time. All I needed, along with the arms. Juliette, Jasmine, Ashley the doll, and then the angel and kitten. Vegas. Day after miserable day I sit here and recall days and weeks with those dreamy souls and all that went along with it. I drowned into them, pushed as hard as I could against the norm, and lavished whatever was necessary or desired. The last visit mentioned above was difficult in the beginning due to my being so lonely and missing the Brunette very much. The kitten. Others. Kelly. I was right where I needed to be and stuck to them like glue. Every now and then a fleeting glimpse of home entered me and I shoved it back so quickly that all was forgotten in seconds. And then I went further. Dani and then back to Ellie. Oy. I have to stop this or I'll pack my shit and run out the door without a destination. I wish that was funny. Back then I had the freedom and resources to do nearly anything I wanted or needed to find comfort and enjoyment. And I took control of each situation with my forceful ways and graded the world aside to make room for my recklessness. Well, none of that is available to me anymore, both due to the state of the world and my own stupidity in not planning for the last few years. Now I am stuck like never before. Even the Amsterdam outlet fucking disappeared. If things were different right now, nothing could stop me from hauling ass to the goblet and seeking Eleanor. Yes, even after nine years I would still try. I don't care. The type of feeling which grows inside while there and detached from the real world is beyond description. Just last summer the goddess and I were there for a week and I almost found it. Almost. The likelihood of me ever discovering that type of freedom again is nil. We were there exactly one year ago. Today, yesterday, tomorrow. The video I shot just outside the Venetian is something I shall cherish for the rest of my life. That may have been the last time.

Yes, the movie did that much for me. Perhaps understanding myself is necessary for avoiding dreams of running away. I don't know.



036

Damn



I can't help it. The wondrous city of sin pulls me too much after a lifetime of visits and indulgences. I was raised by Nevada, in a manner of speaking.

Enough of that. Sitting this morning helps me to realize how important the peace and quiet have become since the beginning of this strange world. I used to have a day, or sometimes two, but now I have a part of every day most weeks. Important, but keep in mind all this time and space can also be quite damaging. Being alone most of the time is not a problem at all. I don't really like anyone to begin with, and now am more able to avoid them. The issue stems from thinking. I can't stop such a process, and eventually the problems put the kibosh to my day. Being alone is ok, but every now and then it isn't. The problems amplify in my head and at some point every fucking time I dream of dashing the hell out of here. Impossible right now. And I'm certain the goblet is not my goblet any longer. You want to talk about depressing thoughts? Don't fucking get me started. With all of the swirling shit in my head combined with such a deep-seated desire to run away, I am surprised to be upright. If it weren't for being alone right now, yikes would be the result. I stated that alone is not always good, but given the choice... I'll take the difficulty along with the comfort. Passing the time and keeping hold of my sanity seems the best path right now.

I still dream of all of them, though.

Speaking of dreams, there is 'Twister' on the television. Kind of funny to see Jami Gertz so much older than the heyday of the eighties. Her eyes still kill me, too. Always cute. This film was way up the dream scale back then. It's a big, noisy and goofy movie, yet wildly popular at the time. When I see it, all my feelings for the industry swell inside. This is not award-quality filmmaking, but popular and fun to watch. And now that brings another pile of shit to mind. The mid-nineties, not long before trekking across the nation to the Midwest. I just recalled a situation that has been long dormant. Wow. What a fucking slam to my head right this moment. Fasten your seat belts.

When 'Jurassic Park' was released in ninety-three, I was working at a CB shop not far from home. The place was older than dirt's grandparents and housed in a converted gas station. They specialized in CB equipment, some audio, and believe it or not, satellite dishes. There were several dishes up on the roof and canopy that had been piped to several televisions inside to show prospective clients the image quality and whatnot. My job was installation of mobile equipment. When no one was around (which had been most of the time for that dying industry) the owner and I surfed the birds and channels for entertainment. My eyes were wide with wonder over the availability of certain networks, most notably the 'E' channel. I had been unable to watch in the past due to restrictions. Well, I soaked it up. [Aside: Keep in mind that there were no 'reality' or scripted stories back then. I am referring to twenty-seven years ago this month. The network was all entertainment-based and leaned heavily toward film production and anything relating to those in the movies or making them. For me, it was the end-all be-all of television.] There were lots of promotions for Jurassic Park (fucking huge at the time) and all sorts of behind-the-scenes information for that film and several others. I only worked at the shop for a few months, but in that short time I absolutely fell in love with the idea of being somewhat 'inside' the industry. God damn was I ever nuts over all of it. I believe that was the period when Sly, Arnold, and Bruce developed and promoted 'Planet Hollywood'. The fledgling restaurants were all over the screen that summer. I was crazy and so fucking wide-eyed over seeing everything that I ended up spending most of my time angling for a way to get the 'E' channel at home. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to view more until the 'wireless' cable television was installed in the Midwest. During the time that I worked at that little CB shop, there was just no getting enough of film and everything related. Even the Jurassic promotions drove me up the wall. To this day, that film has a little corner of my heart reserved.

We never sold much audio equipment. The owners were very old-fashioned and knew nothing of the manner in which the mobile audio industry had advanced. They still displayed components from years earlier. On the CB side, things were much more successful. I did some installing of antennas and such, worked a tiny bit with audio, and spent some time on my own CB system in my truck. The whole period was really fun. In fact, the only difficulty I can recall was a stunning girl wishing to have a CD changer added to her car. Oy, she was all tanned legs and long hair. I was immediately lusting for her and the cute voice, so much so that I fucked up the power wiring and the unit died two days later. She returned and I did a better job, all the while trying to avert my eyes from her body as she sat in the passenger seat next to me. Too much time has passed for me to remember her face, and the reference now brings up yet another fucking story, believe it or not. This one goes back to the early zeros and those channels I cannot forget: INHD1, INHD2, and Mojo. I'm sure you've read about one aspect of the latter. I am going to leave the story alone for now because I must research it first, but I will say one thing before getting back on track: The girl at the CB shop was beautiful, and even though I do not clearly remember seeing her face, years later on INHD2 was a program which involved someone who could have been her twin sister, and that is no bullshit. Honestly, I have not thought of her in years and fully intend to grind the Internet into Brillo pads to find the face. One more? Are you ready for this? I've thrown superlatives here before, but let me state that the girl in the program is the most beautiful I have ever seen. Toss Andrea, Natalie, Ellie, and even the Raven... She was THE MOST UNIQUELY STUNNING WOMAN TO GRACE MY EYES, EVER. Ok, enough of that. I was talking about film and that channel that I still love even though it's gone to shit like all the others. Believe me, I will be going back to her soon. A quick scan told me that the show will not be easy to find, however I know it is out there. History has been deeply preserved thanks to the aforementioned Internet. I simply have to see her again.

Jami still had a very prominent pair of breasts, although the costuming attempted to minimize their appearance. Heh. Whatever. I am a mess.

That period was wondrous. I saw lots of material and promotion for the dinosaurs along with tons of product tie-ins. My eyes absorbed all of it and had me dreaming constantly of working in film. Even now, with everything related to media and entertainment constantly advancing and the attention span of the mass shrinking, the idea still pulls me. I can't help it. I really loved working there, and despite the vision of a lifetime sitting right next to me and looking more gorgeous than I can put into words, the entire summer was full of wonder. After a while, and when I had taken in every scrap of information about Jurassic Park that was possible, my grandfather, uncle and I went to see it. Then? I was crazy for film. There was no such thing as enough. And there are not the words to describe my feelings then.

I have to find that girl and image her here. Damn it. Not easy. Pause.

Oy fuck me, Friday morning. Yesterday turned out to be quite the cluster. The morning was very nice as I had more time than usual for work here (and the realization and memory above), but then I had to perform a few miracles. Out to the store for provisions, and then home. That went very well. Afterward? We had to run some things to the city and then made a stop on the return trip. By the time we arrived back home again, I had run short of the space to come back to this. I lost nothing, however, and instead of attempting to continue writing, I sat and performed an exhaustive search for the girl on the rollercoaster. Yep, I really did. I tried, anyway. Using the phone to browse and seek something is normally straightforward, but I am attempting to learn of the show in question and lacking a title or year. The computer is necessary if I am to get anywhere with this. And the most recent time the series could have aired was zero-eight. Not good. So far, I have come up with nothing aside from information about the networks themselves which is barely helpful. Basically, both channels -- INHD1 and INHD2 -- went live in zero-three or so, and then INHD2 went away in zero-six while INHD1 was renamed 'Mojo' at the same time. Mojo subsequently went dark in zero-seven. All fucked up. There is damned little to go on, but I have to find her. I have to see the video and her face again. The compulsion is even stronger than with Jaime because I at least know this girl was on television at one point, and as we now realize, everything on television or in the movies is archived somewhere and can eventually resurface on the Internet. She's out there and I can find her. That's right, people... Another fucking search for a woman I cannot possess.

Say it.



Perini the god

She was standing right there



I have to stop thinking about the fucking guitar. Fiction, only.

On the return trip yesterday, I spied leather pants. That is rare, especially now. At the time, she was walking along Bush toward Franklin and I caught sight of light between her upper thighs (typically an indication that she may be something not to miss) but could not see her walk uninterrupted due to parked cars and the fact that I was driving within a bit of a crowd. Had I stared, the Corvette in front may have been kissed. Heh. I passed her, glanced to the mirror to see more light in the opposite direction and her breasts moving around within a light blouse. Around the corner, and gone. The point is not me looking at a woman walking in the city. The point is I controlled my gaze in order to preserve the car and us. That should be a simple and straightforward decision, right? Not inside me. It was difficult, and all the way down the hill to the freeway I felt disappointment and somewhat distraught over missing her. I have become so bad now that even on this early morning sitting here with television and hopes of finding the rollercoaster girl, there is a tinge of pain. I have been cut by the leather pants and still feel as if I missed out. Ugh, such is me. The only upside is I am certain another will come along soon enough. Just like the walnuts, avocados, and now the theme park stunner. Something else is always waiting in the wings.

Today. Bleeding, still.

I have the usual morning and afternoon drives, may have a guest for lunch, and will carry out the typical things I do for the house. There has to be time for this, however. I am flowing like a river after the spring thaw. The girl from sixteen years ago must... MUST be found. She resembled the dream in the little car sitting there looking unreal. I still remember her white shorts and dark blue top. White tennis shoes with baby socks. Smooth skin. Bulging spheres casting a shadow on her tummy. Medium-brown hair, long and slightly wavy, flowing a touch in the breeze. Knees together. Hmm... Maybe that was it. Before any of the others. Knees together. Long legs. Hmm... Again. I was under the dash on the driver's side, she sat there with nothing better to do, and was innocent enough. I know it. Her eyes were soft, her voice was also soft, and I fucked up the power. Heh. That is funny. I could not concentrate. And she was completely sweet and understanding upon returning to have me repair the problem. And then I stared again. Fixed, happy, smiling, and off she went... From the canopy over the old gas pumps and straight into my impossible dreams. I went back inside, told my boss all was well, and lined up next to her for some more of the exotic television that had been otherwise unavailable to me. A few months later? Off to the Midwest. The CD girl was gone for good. Well, I may have seen her a decade-plus later on the television, but not likely. The resemblance cannot be denied, however. Now I am more compelled to find her than anyone for whom I have searched thus far. I have to see the smile, flowing hair, and gorgeous face. There may be a problem, too, but I will not mention it yet. If I do indeed locate the video, I shall address the possible issue at that time. Just wait.

I said nothing is out there. Well, I am still searching. If nothing is there, why look? And watching Hugh Jackman on the television makes me feel like a fraction of a man. Don't fucking ask. The vrkolak has pushed the idea of a fifth issue and I am doing my best to avoid it right now. The CD girl has to take precedence. More cutting, more bleeding. I have to keep myself to myself and clean up the blood or another vrkolak will develop.

The summer working at the shop is a period I will not forget. It may slip back sometimes, but the main feelings regarding the film industry and my tiny connection to it at that time still stir me. The CD girl notwithstanding, I loved those months. They may have helped to shape me into what I am right now, sitting here dreaming of all those things I did not do. Well, almost all of them. There have been times when I made the effort to take control and go outside my life for some enjoyment, but for the most part I have been ruled by my own self-imposed limitations. The CD girl is simply frosting on the cake. I have tried to analyze the beginning of my obsession and specific desires and there are some ideas to that end. Honestly, I really do not know. Her legs in that car while I repaired my oversight could have remained inside me until such time as I was reminded or needed to understand something else in my eyes. I don't know. When I was first running wiring from the trunk to the dash, she spent quite a bit of time standing and watching, probably for lack of anything else (I really don't remember what people did to kill time before the advent of phones that are capable of almost anything. Heh). I looked at her a bit but tried to be respectful. Further, I was frightened. That much beauty was more intimidating than I can possibly describe, even now. I can wordsmith my way through anything else, but the beauty is still king of the hill. Anyway, as I looked at her, there were feelings inside that I could not understand at all. Like the desire to touch her hand, or her hair, or perhaps just be able to stare. I can't really remember that well after all these years. And I believe it was her outfit and hair which pushed me to connect the CD's to the rollercoaster. The girl in the documentary (I think that's what it was, anyway) was so fucking adorable that I recorded and watched that episode many times in the space of a week. I simply cannot rest until I see her again. The CD girl can be a part of her. You already know my imagination is endless, so why not consider them one?

'Compactdiscchangerrollercoastergoddess'. Heh. Maybe I really have lost it completely.

Time to stop gushing about the beauty. You know already. I need not go on about it. And back to the safe television. I only left Hugh on up there because of seeing two-thirds of the Tang triplets. Don't even fucking get me started. Remember the thingy that I hesitated to mention? The one related to the Brunette my birthday? Ugh, shit fuck crap damn. I still can't go into it. The fucking L'Oreal commercials are showing no mercy. It just never ends. More and then more and then more. Just like I stated up there somewhere, no matter what fades there will always be another. Right now I have to find the rollercoaster girl. Unfortunately, I may not be able to display her on this site, though. The issue I mentioned above is seeming more apparent now. Don't worry... It will be revealed and then you'll understand. Another fucking ad now. Jesus. Is it possible that the commercials are tied to me? Is the whole thing bent upon my confusion? Heh. My head is not big enough to think I am that important, but you have to admit it was a little funny. Whatever.

My brain is beginning to manufacture issues out of thin air. It's happening at this very moment which means I should probably stop here soon. The morning drive is an hour away and I can guarantee that I will be wearing invisible blinders. There is enough going on already. I don't need any other faces or forms in my head. The issues being built are all related to two. Sometimes I have no control over that, while other times I can deal with it through reasoning. This morning I will have to be careful. Issue two is the one capable of shutting me down completely. I can't have that right now. I want to find the girl and gaze at her for a little while. Plus I need to work the fiction. And speaking of the fiction, the yacht, and the guitar...

The event from all those years ago cut me. The blood rose after fourteen days and formed the vrkolak. It is now seeking me. The vrkolak is my past and can kill me in the same manner in which my blood was spilled: A series of words emanating from a woman's mouth. I recently mentioned the effect of even the tiniest detail on an ego, and referring to something that may have destroyed mine is difficult, to say the least. I may have nothing left of myself by the time the subject is fleshed out. There is just too much now... Overwhelming, hurtful, scary, uncomfortable, and without a possible resolution or the type of comfort which eludes me to this day, I am not going to survive this. I will keep typing for the time being, but know that the end of this street represents terror. I will never pick up a guitar again.

Help me.

Nothing is out there."



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