The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

Emotional Headway
{if that's a thing}

Bluish Sky close to sunset or after, probably on a stormy day, it is a background texture of the sky that I am coming to enjoy, clouds providing depth on a field of dark blue, it is very much like a water color painting

Storm Clouds
They Are Arising


5:19AM: Let's solve the troubles of our day: i.e. Personal Problems.

DREAM: I gave A Customer (who in the end, seemed more like The Competition) a tour of our Sample Case... as per one of the product lines I used to sell. I can vaguely remember some school test factoring into things before this. I wonder the utility of repeated tests. {I think the real question here is why do I take tests in My Dreams so often?}

The real wake up time was closer to nine, getting out of bed around ten.

WRITING: Posted Anger Mode and started on This Week's Journal.

It's been a fairly light day. I'd like to be more productive. But I'm not. And if I were (as I have been in the past), I'd only think I was over-focusing {i.e. wasting my time}.

I'm tired, short of breath, and a bit wheezy.

FOOD: Supper was Hamburgers w/ Caprice Salad.

EYES: I fear being blind (or more properly, being helpless and unhappy, because I am blind) way more than I fear death. Death solves Everything.

FEEL: Tired. But not unhappy. Don't let the last fool you. I'm more done than sad. You know, Outcome independent.

{In this era of Button Pushing War, I have always thought that it made sense to put Old Men on the front lines, those who have already lived their lives.

You are in a Machine Gun Nest (or similar) fighting for your children and grandchildren with few years ahead. I imagine it would be fairly easy to keep on pulling the trigger until the very end.

"Surrender? Never. We came to taste Death."}

It was Cool & Cloudy, today. I would have liked a bit more rain. But it was nice. I was maybe outside for fifteen minutes total... maybe, only ten.

MEDIA: Doctor Doolittle

Talk. Talk. Talk.

DREAM: We went to a LARP (i.e. we were in a LARP). We were in a school, going from room-to-room (but typically, there were long trips down hallways in-between, so not sequential rooms) where there were set-scenes. My character's traits were on a mask. But I could barely read it {as in, I could not} nor could I tell you the content of a single set-scene, save that one consisted of pre-recorded visual media {like a TV}. It was part of my character to be lazy, hold back, and do as little as possible (phrases I have been told have been used to describe me In The Real). But I forged ahead at some crossroads and was eliminated from the LARP by monster-like adversaries. Later in the cafeteria, there were loads of people, a food line for a midnight snack, and discussions about having arrived at this second LARP too late to be admitted because everyone was asleep even though it was pretty clear everyone was still awake.

TALK: Family Dynamics

FOOD: Leftover Spaghetti

WRITING: Galactic Knight... I really do like the first half. I haven't gotten to the ending yet, which my notes indicate might be weak. {This is an Old Story, something that I wrote years ago and had completely forgotten about. It can be quite pleasing to come across something I've forgotten and realize "I wrote this." And if one is willing to bend things in my direction, it's pretty darn good... ending and all.}

TALK: LARP... I like this idea.

MEDIA: Little Women

LARP: Spaceship Problems . First, I am very inconsistent about how to continue entries after The Introductory Heading. Should I use a period {as shown}, a colon, or what? Second, LARP is akin to Play, Pretend, Playtime, {Impromptu Theatre}, or the like. Anyway, three of us played... a little... with some degree of buy-in to continue again at a later date, presumably with a new topic. Whatever. I think it all began when I spilled some coffee on The NAV Controls... and then, more on The Comm, to prevent my actions from being reported to Home Base. {In the end, I was reported... but intercepted the transmission changing "condemnation" to "commendation"; and thereby, earning the coveted Silver Comet for Exemplary Duty. I probably stole the show (and/or ran away with the script). But there was not that much buy-in for the activity. Hopefully, next time.}

FOOD: Chinese Take-Out

TALK: Employment History. Mine was lots of Fast Food, Driving an Ice Cream Truck, and Selling Specialty Metals for The Construction Industry.

One Eye Here
One Eye There

Begging the syntax: (T)Here

DREAM: Unfortunately, I cannot remember any. Though, I am unconvinced of their absence. There's not a darkness or emptiness, just a lack of recall. I do have other things on my mind. And for whatever reason, upon waking, My Mind tends to load the concerns of the day. As if to say, "Well, now. This is what we were thinking about when we left off. Shall we continue?" So, how does one reply in the negative? You know, in such a way that it takes and such thoughts disappear for good? Or at least, are assigned a much lower priority?

I was awake lying in bed for several hours. Finally, I made Hot Chocolate. But crawled back into bed prior to drinking any.

I know.

Exciting Stuff!

DREAM: I was headed for the bus {the one that I caught during my brief stint at University}. But I kept on finding reasons to return home: that the shirt I was wearing was too thin and that I didn't have the required after school gaming tokens being the two I remember. The Bus came into sight. And it became hard to make forward progress. My feet felt like they were stuck in molasses. I felt like I was climbing a hill to the point I started using my hands to pull myself along... even on the presumably flat ground.

DREAM: In a totally different bus (more like a limo bus, party bus, or van), I became concerned about what would happen if we went over the side into the ravine. So, I put on my seat belt and imagined watery death. At some point, I noticed the bus had stopped moving. I wondered why. It had a lot to do with me being in a bed that wasn't going anywhere. So, I opened my eyes.

DREAM: I knew I was Dreaming. So, I parked the car, got out, and started to investigate the crowd. There's always a sense of urgency. I know The Lucid State will end soon enough. I found my sweetie. She was the one I wanted to play with. But I should have been engaging everyone else in conversation as I went along.

NEWS: Big Explosion. I feel like a NEWS Tag might be appropriate. I heard about this yesterday, even saw a video. I was just thinking about it again. And this project is very much about my thoughts, moments of which I wish to make note. And this is one.

I need an Imaginary Friend to share my grief.

There's Bright Pollen on My Shoes from walking through The Grass.

WALK: Back and Forth. Three sort of {haphazard back-and-forth} laps.

MUSIC: Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

MEDIA: Cuckoo

MUSIC: Metallica

TALK: Of that which I'd rather not be. {Yes, it is true. There are aspects of reality I would change.} But then, all will vanish into dust soon enough.

A Day Of Rest & Relaxation

It was a hard night.

JOKE: I write Stories, Novels, and Poems. So, I guess what I'm saying is that I write things that people like... and things that they don't.

EYES: Things are very hazy. But I haven't been drinking enough water.

My Night Mind is different from My Day Mind. There are different priorities. I am much Darker at night.

TALK: The ever present Family Affair.

I decided to be smart in Sixth Grade. And I'm stupid enough to believe I achieved the goal. If I had decided (had the interest and inclination) to be an Athlete, Musician, Looker, or almost anything else, I am smart enough to know I could have achieved that goal, as well. I'd never really considered Male Physical Beauty to be an acquired trait. But I'm sure half the population (at a guess and I would not be surprised if it were significantly more) could be considered Cute, Handsome, or Good Looking if they so chose.

{I am of the opinion Male and Female Intelligence is essentially equal (though perhaps, a bit different) at birth. And that environmental factors explain much of the divergence... if in fact, any divergence exists. The point being that any time one spends becoming a Looker is that much less time available to spend on other pursuits, say becoming Smart, Artistic, and so on. If I thought it was Smarter (or more important) to brush my hair (or wear mascara), I probably would have done that rather than reading (more than a few) books.}

MEDIA: Defcon Talk - Hacking ATMs.

FOOD: Fish Feast!

I'm never going to cut my hair, ever again.

9:01PM: 22.5 in all, starting at 3:00AM or so. {At this point, I consider it likely 3:00AM is a typo and it should read 8:00AM. But the next time around, things started closer to 1:00AM. So, who knows?}

27,387... I'll round up.

I like having My Web Pages read outloud to me.

Did Anything Happen?

DREAM: There was plenty of train travel. At least, I had passes... and pastries at the end.

DREAM: Rather than walking to the Bus stop, I flew!

WRITING: It goes slow. But then, waking up at 10AM shifts things backwards and makes timing harder to judge. Also, a project I am calling Koan Krazy is consuming a lot of mental bandwidth.

TALK: Let's maintain the friendship.

Seventeen Counted Out! I'm preparing for The 'Morrow.

MEDIA: Cuckoo - Season Two: A total bail after one episode. It's not the same. And it's not as good.

All Day

7:14AM: It Begins!

WRITING: It's been a productive morning in bed. {I wrote a Poem I am currently calling Leviathan.}

It's harder than it was yesterday to do a better job today.

I'd say the above was in need of a TAG. But it's really the gist of the mainline.

MUSE: The Dishwasher. Sit-Com Mode. Idiot Savant. Savior Devil. Washes dishes with utmost and ruthless efficiency. The Samurai of Dishwashing. The Dishwasher adopts a different extravagant and extreme philosophy each episode, which he successfully applies and integrates into his dishwashing and whatever previous oddities he's declared. Also, in each episode, he explores some daring, extreme, base hedonistic pleasure... along with an astounding bit of The Good Performed down in the nitty-gritty {by which I mean something like Soup Kitchen Charity}. Weird Religion/Philosophy/Belief - Annoying Custom - Effect Real World Outcome - Logical Rationale - Bizarre Twist, Inclusion, or Jump In Logic - Deviant Pleasure... on top of which there is always The Girl. "A guy like that just might be crazy." The final line at the end of the show takes place as The Dishwasher walks off-screen with the girl in hand, heading into a weekend of debauchery and hedonistic pleasure, pausing at the threshold, shrugging, looking back, "But if I'm crazy, you got to admit, I'm definitely doing it in style." Laugh Track. Cut to Straight Man Foil. Reluctant Accenting Gesture. And Cut. {As a twist, rather than getting the girl, he is married and helps another get the girl or boy, during which time his wife is suspicious. So, like, he spends the episode with a hot chick preparing for an Artic Expedition. But rather than run off with the new girl (or boy), it turns he was shopping for his wife all along, intending to go on a surprise adventure for their honeymoon, while the hot girl was doing the same for her fiance. "Honey, there's no need to go clothes shopping if you don't want to. I know every square inch of your body... every square inch," some much better than others, obviously.}

The Frog and Pony Tantric Love Position: Yoga Positions. Female Frog. Male Pony... a lower stance than for a Horse. They go together surprisingly well.

The Dishwasher is The Mail Room Guy. "I serve Beverages & Refreshments." The latter being code for whatever a worker might need (personally, religiously, and/or professionally). He's always turned down promotions. But he's a Director of The Company. And through aggressive (and/or abusive) use of The Employee Stock Purchasing Program, he's the largest Non-Institutional Stockholder. As to his clerking functions, "I've got to keep an eye on my investment." Thus the odd, liberal, or stringent corporate policy {causing all the problems this episode} is his own doing/undoing.

MEDIA: Jumanji

FOOD: Premium Blue Cheese

FOOD: Watermelon

MEDIA: An Education

MEDIA: A Very Secret Service: {It's done right. And for anyone who liked Comrade Detective (and/or vice-a-versa), I can recommend (the other) heartily.}

10:29PM: 30... The last in was at 3:00PM over the course fifteen hours.

EYES: Very hazy. But there are moments of clarity.


DREAM: Yes. But I'm going to be a bit lazy, today {and not tell you any}.

8:49AM: Waking up slightly earlier than I expected.

FEEL: Lethargic

SORT: +/-200 Pictures. The number means nothing. Some things are harder to sort than others. What is the goal? Is there a project? Is this something I need/want to remember? These are pictures I've been carrying around for awhile. I will have to loop through the remaining ones (around 400), again {and again... and again}. Ironically, lazy days, are good days to sort pictures. Pictures mean work... to transform into a project or look at again at some future date. When emotionally unmotivated, it becomes much easier to say "I'll never do that... or only a shorter version of that," both cases inevitably requiring fewer pictures than I already have.

SORT: +/-100 Pictures. These were harder. They were from a different folder, containing older pictures. For the most, I was deleting copies, back ups, and items that should be posted in The Data Dump Spur.

FEEL: Lots of anger. But then, I have long felt anger is just a self-motivational tool.

WALK: Pretty long.

FOOD: Spaghetti! And I made a sort of Lasagna for tomorrow.

MEDIA: I am listening to this year's DefCon videos.

Let us do whatever it takes to excise this anger from our hearts.

The Myth of the Worthwhile Pile of Ship.

{Is it clear that 'Pile of Ship' is a euphemism?}

We need another disaster.

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