Sunset Overdrive

The short ride until august

Her ghost in the fog

“Her”; the pale face and fragile emotions- my fair lady. The one I idolize as a goddess above else, can only be “her.” But unfortunately, she was not the one I wanted to wait for me at the end of it all. My heart wavered and I let the evil in; the vices which once shackled me to reality surged back and can no longer be ignored anymore. Previous attempts to keep the Black Surge at bay were no longer working. My body craved for what my mind was telling it not. Cool porcelain skin fastened over mechanical structures of flesh and bone expanded and contracted in pixel perfect detail. Even the most inconsequential motions drew my eyes to the ripples of skin and muscle beneath the surface. By your hands were my satisfactions satiated but never completed. You always felt me wanting something more. Her flowing blood was all but a mystery to my tongue. I wanted to take her youth, I needed to drink from her- I needed to understand the taste of her sweet cherry-colored lips. Everything beneath the skin I wanted to see rendered in vivid detail. Become something more, and become one, with her. I wanted to feel her from the inside. My fair lady, for she was always impure. She was like snow trampled by muddied boots and all I could see was what it once was. I don't remember her name anymore though. I can't remember if she was real or not anymore, and whenever I try to picture her face, my mind is sent reeling. Memories clashed with fantasies [a]and the distinction between either grew frighteningly small. Where my heart resided is the question of the evening; the capability of my lovelessness is now brought to the forefront and I struggle to feel anything resembling warmth. Deep down I know who holds it, and I know where I left it, but I fear to retrieve it. So I entertain the hopeless masquerade and watch the shadows dancing on the walls to avoid returning to the Spring of 2016.

Lipstick stains on wine glasses[b]

I was already clutching my cure when I tightly locked the door. I tried to catch my breath again but I hurt much more than any time before- I had no options left again. The long shadows of the Ghosts of my adolescent perversions danced across the walls. They were the shadows of unfinished desires still holding me back. Old habits die hard, and mine were back with a vengeance. I bit my tongue to potentially subside the Black Surge but it was all for naught. Eternity was painfully short- temporal- like a promise of “forever.” Nevermore, was the light's sun kissed rays caressing my cheeks, as I found the looming spectre of dusk just on the horizon. Running was all I managed, but their Ghosts were licking at my heels, attempting to sway my uneasy heart with their cherry-flavored kisses. Everlasting flames doused by the seductress' gaze. She danced so macabre, myself not above being entranced divined from her gait! This angel stepped from a pedestal- yet, unbeknownst to me, were the cruelties held behind her stained-glass eyes. Spellbound. See how even now the whore casts her spells upon the Black Count whom her reddened lips hold fast.[c][d] Under her spell, dragged into the abyss. Light, no longer I could see. Perhaps, time can be the most cruel temptress. In the face of true evil nothing pure can stay. Greater men have been struck to their knees by their own untruths, to say the least, to the flimsy resolutions of a single man held only to his own world. I expected to confront myself like this eventually regardless of how powerfully absolute previous statements made were. Fall in love, did I not, but reality all the same bound me. The perfectly white teeth of her snarled grin already long since burned into my retinas, impossible to forget. Predatory but all the more enticing to my submissive tendencies. No matter what I did, my cruel temptress was always there. I’m glad you’re evil, too.[e]

Bullet Proof... I Wish I Was

She looks like the real thing,

She tastes like the real thing;

My fake plastic love[f]

Radiohead – Fake Plastic Trees

There was a sense of finality to the previous statements I've made that was unlike the feeble self-pitying excuses I made in personal diary entries. But excuses were all any of them were. Said attempt was penned with a heavy heart and ignited a flame of passion within me. For a moment, I was able to forget everything and attune myself to the righteous frequencies nearly long enough to convince me otherwise. Part of it was idealistic meanderings and the rest was trying to reaffirm my convictions. In the moment the words I wrote held weight, and upon finishing the project, going against those powerful statements felt like I was undermining everything I stood for. “Eternal Sunshine of the JAV-less Mind” was less a statement about the AV industry and more a small fragment of my multi-faceted manifesto, which has yet to bear any form or shape outside of my lazy daydreams. But even still, the foundation still holds. Regardless of past or future actions, the words I wrote convey the most honest feelings I could muster. And contrary to past and future actions, I relegate it as words to live by, not necessarily those that already define me. For a while thereafter the existence of such a statement made me quickly shoot down momentary urges and bypass lapses in judgment. I embodied “Eternal Sunshine” and lit my own path forward until only the faint glimpses of sunlight could not guide me anymore. The once absolute power the text held on me had begun to wane and uncontrollable animalistic urges began to fight back. What I once perceived as “finality” was unraveled and laid bare, appearing to be a discontinuous existence.  

I have never been good at acting on proper judgment. In fact, I'm quite impulsive to the point where I'd consider it to be increasingly destructive. Patience is not exactly my strong suit and I'd quickly act upon desires much more readily than most, simply passing them off with a wave of my hand saying “what are you gonna do?” I consequently failed to pose myself the question seriously: what am I going to do? Fukada Eimi asked my member that same question about a year and a half ago, to which she submitted to her every temptation even after claiming to break the habit. Nobody could match her unfortunately. Sometimes in moments of weakness I would slink back to the pages of sites whose URL’s could never be forgotten. I would search their database trying to find something exciting but nothing worked quite the same. She knew what made me tick and what got me off and I barely understood the half of it. I wish I knew as much about my fragility as much as this woman did. Even now, I can close my eyes and hear her breathy voice licking at the edges of my ears. I told my therapist I wanted to be her[g]. I was attempting to recontextualize my entire romp through JAV by waving a nail-polished hand at the entire matter and excusing it as something more complicated. That was only an excuse for my past actions. When the misguided development ended, I realized the unfortunate consequences of it all. The bodies I admired were like well-tuned machines dancing to a perfect rhythm in the palm of my hand. She was hardly real even through the concave lenses of my virtual reality headset. A mostly plastic, silicone-injected and chemically enhanced temptress. I never touched her to feel warmth- no women either for that matter.[h] The abstraction of lenses and videos further removed me from reality than I perhaps even had been before. I sat in a puddle of my own depravity feeling a mixture of excitement and regret. She was the high I wanted to chase, the memory I wanted to relive, and the perfection I wanted to recreate. Everything else was relegated to fill the gap where she once resided. They all failed and I just needed her. But I knew the pleasure she made me feel was ill-constructed and destructive. Love cannot possibly feel this cold. My hands upon her lifeless breasts did not mold to my hands because she was not mine and they were not really hers. Still, she was everything my body craved. This could not continue and the depths could not be surpassed, so the line in the sand was drawn and the manifesto was penned anew.


It's difficult to see “Eternal Sunshine of the JAV-less Mind” as anything other than idealistic preaching. The impromptu blog was written in almost perfect solitude within a controlled environment. Quite literally, I was not forced to reckon with the outside world during the writing of the post, and most of the video production was done in the darkness provided by a one-bedroom apartment. I was Mamiya Takuji, arms spread in the classroom of terrified peers, shouting about the injustices of reality and the failure of love; love certainly was dead[j], and what replaced it could be had at the price of my fractured dignity. Such words were only able to be brought forth with such vigor because I was never forced to reckon with the unsettling reality around me. At least that is what I tried to tell myself after the fact. It was idealistic, yes, but it was all the better for it! Time to throw conventional thinking to the wind because the reign of non-dreamers has come to an end. Rusted chains I once shed threatened to drag me back down. The gauntlet has been thrown down and I, at the very least, will not go gentle into that good night. To dream of 2D is to go against the animalistic thinking ingrained within my body and mind. Love from her is chasing a Siren on the rocks. Love from others is painfully intangible. Plastic girls with cherry lips blowing me imaginary kisses like a bouquet of roses[k]. With ivory fangs dripping I regret what I've done but now what I've stolen. Drinking up her blood with no feelings to finally begin to understand- beyond the PVC dolls lined up on my shelves I find a mirror. Drifting amongst the reflections are memories of past loves that mean the world to me. Plastic dolls trapped in my memories next to apparitions of the girls I used to fall in love with. Her ghost emerged from the fog- not the blood-soaked tempress of unholy realms, but the one who I let fall away. The one I could almost touch back in timelines lost. She was there laughing at me beyond the sea of dispensable squeals of false ecstasy from the incongruous digital whores. Half-decomposed joushi kousei still reside in my closet, their Ghosts haunting me eversince[l]. So when I dream of her, what dimension is she in? I can't remember her face anymore.


Or, “Like you never had wings”

Bewitching upturned hazel eyes and frozen botox lips framed a crooked grin- an image long since burned into my retinas. A memory to remind me that I still believed in her eyes. “L’Amour Toujours (nightcore)” exists as, sped up and pitched- triumphant in its 2000's dancefloor melancholia- enduring as the prelude to my recurring trips down memory lane. The title mockingly translates to “Love always”, smirking with foreknowledge, retroactively foreshadowing the current events. Only in the clarity offered in the festering aftermath can I finally begin to write with vigor once again. Eternal sunshine has unfortunately been sullied by my animalistic lust. So it’s now time to draw the curtains back and recognize my faults once again. An object of desire, a plastic girl, beckoned me back. One more embrace before the crack of dawn, one more embrace before all the warm memories are erased. It was perhaps a fragment of a most beautiful dream, like love incarnate, nevertheless tainted by digital grime and filth. The uncanny warmth of the Siren's breath just beyond the screen ignited a burning lust within me, red like roses;[m] filling my head with dreams, always closer[n], broken down by anger and sadness. Abstractions be damned! Fingers dancing and muscles contracting provoking a familiar visceral reaction in me. I lamented missteps and cursed my solitude. Even in the winter of my darkest technoreclusion, she was always there, by my side. My all-too-human instincts wanted something my irrational mind could not reckon with. A kiss goodnight was enough to set my heart ablaze. The simulated heat felt warm against my skin like desert sand at night[o]. My body wanted what my heart could not bear. A foggy dream-state of cybernetic verisimilitude and ill-constructed enchantments drew me towards her like a fatal attraction[p]. Regardless of what I once said, I still believed in her eyes[q]. Iridescent stained-glass [r]reflected a reflection different from mine. She had her eyes. Those same eyes lied but I was too far gone to notice. I wanted to feel her impurities from the inside[s] and welcome the warmth as it passes my lips. My fair lady! She was like snow trampled by muddied boots and all I could see was what it once was. But I don't want to remember her name anymore. My last goodbye echoed long into the night. I failed to deceive myself into believing the fantastic tales of a perfect dreamscape just beyond the dimensional rift. Once again my downfall was the fault of a wavering heart and an impulsive mind. I am now left to grapple with the web of lies and an uncertain future. Every subsequent cycle dampening the sincerity of the words I wrote. I know now that this goodbye might very well be succeeded by another. How avoidable that is can only be determined by my mental fortitude. Eternity passed in the blink of an eye and yet the night's wrath rendered it all for naught. The memories are painfully everlasting, so thank you, and goodbye.

"I just wish I could replace all the memories of what makes my blood run cold. And as your blood flows through me, I say goodbye to what we had"

(Atreyu - Right side of the bed)

[a](I slept with the girl with twenty faces.)

[b]Higher heels and lipstick napkins!







[i](love is destructive)



referenced a bit later too


black clouds eversince ;-;