Head pounding.

Boom Boom Because I’m Boom Boom

Sex dreams all night. Her from behind. Her from in front. Legs wider. My legs. Hands and tongues. One where I was the man and the woman. That was weird. No resolve, just constant and all night.

Worried about Ray.

Why do I think it’s my responsibility? I can help, but I cannot own. Last dream, I was helping him get into bed and he fell on the floor. I was a forklift strai lning to raise his dead weight. Why do they want home so bad when they can’t even drive themselves. He’ll have to have some serious problems before he accepts reality.

Sounds like me: I can do the impossible. Until I can’t.

Want to hug. Need a hug. Afraid I might be broken.

Dream I was speaking to a thousand people on stage. Miss public speaking. Miss teaching. Feel unplugged from my reality. Like I’m a leaf in a river. I used to feel like a man tied to the front of a speeding train.

Dreamed about roofing Mike T's house. I was there again at lunch loading the shingles. I was there again when he said ‘bbq to thank everyone who came to help’ and I couldn’t go because a someone else needed help roofing that weekend. ‘That’s okay, I’ll invite you to the next one.’

There never was a next one.

He did take us to that Victor Borgman concert. I was so tired, I fell asleep.

Hah. You’re a failure if you just find something you can tolerate or enjoy and just do that. But it’s how man exists for 6k years. All of a sudden we’re all supposed to be clawing constantly.

All of a sudden men want to be women and women want to be men.

Contentment is a crime.

Name of my self-improvement book all about the satisfaction of just making things.

Ever see those IG videos saying ‘want to know how I went from selling my paintings for nothing, to $9000?’

News flash: they didn’t. Or if they did, they hate painting now.

I have a friend whose dream was to be a national portrait painter. He practiced and perfected, bought a farm in Virginia and started work local politicians. Worked his way up to congressmen.

Hated it.

Moved to Florida. Started painting Disney paintings. Got really good at it. Was approved as a ‘Disney artist’. Sells originals and prints I t be park. Makes lots of money.

Says he loves it.

I see it. impressive work. But it has no soul. Paintings telling the same story Disney has been telling for 100 hundred years. Our brand is value. Our brand is expensive. Our brand. Our brand our brand.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I hate money.

He’s just painting advertisements.

Which, great, if he’s happy.

But I pulled one of his prints out of the closet. And it is indistinguishable from AI slop.

He’s essentially a less-unique version of Thomas Kingcade. Art as business.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Meanwhile I think of Chuck, Picasso, or a dozen other household names who defied convention and made something worth seeing. Worth investing in. Worth believing in.

 I will never be famous. Or rich. Or probably even content. But what I am and will always be is proud that I got up every day and made a thing. Good bad or ugly. I loved. I lived. I tasted life and gave convention the middle finger as best I could.

HOW can one image take SO long to work?

Client says 'nice job'. Assume they're being nice because I am a moron. Take a damned compliment, man.

At $125 an hour, I should be able to accept a compliment. I can certainly cash the check.

I'm so scared to open whatsapp again. What I'll do if she's there. I know I won't be able to resist it. I won't. And so I'm scared. of myself. Of hurting anyone else. So deleted is shall remain.

Sleeping alone tonight. Going to try to give her the space to rest and not be disturbed. She needs it. Quiet and peace and restful sleep. THinking of going out to sleep in van.

“Love Will Tear Us Apart” Joy Division

When routine bites hard, And ambitions are low, And resentment rides high, But emotions won't grow, And we're changing our ways, Taking different roads.

Then love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again.

Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side. Is my timing that flawed? Our respect runs so dry. Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives.

But love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again.

You cry out in your sleep, All my failings exposed. And there's a taste in my mouth, As desperation takes hold. Just that something so good Just can't function no more.

But love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again.

This dream wasn't about one person. It wasn't even really about sex. It was simply sex in every possible direction, all night long, without resolution.

The lack of a specific woman or emotional connection stands out. There was no courtship, no affection, no shame, no climax—just an endless current of sexual expression. That makes me think the dream is less about physical desire than about life-force itself.

Sex in dreams is symbolized creation, union, intimacy, or the joining together of different parts. Others, and our selves. Here every scene shifted before it could resolve. It felt like raw creative and emotional energy searching for somewhere to go.

The strangest part was becoming both the man and the woman. It suggests my unconscious wasn't focused on another person at all. Instead it was exploring both masculine and feminine aspects inside. The dream blurred the distinction between giver and receiver, pursuer and pursued. Rather than choosing one role, I experienced both.

Considering my recent dreams, there may be a pattern developing. Several have revolved around authority, calling, discovery, and spiritual identity. This dream seems to descend beneath those themes into something more fundamental: the energy that drives life itself. Before that energy can be directed toward purpose, it first appears in its most instinctive form.

The absence of resolution may be the real message. The energy is present, abundant, even overflowing, but it hasn't yet found its destination. It remains potential rather than fulfillment.

If there is a spiritual lesson here, it may be that God often works with the same life-force that can express itself sexually, creatively, emotionally, or spiritually. The question isn't whether the energy exists, but where it will ultimately be directed.

#deardiary