you give yourself away, i guess – i mean when you’re unable to create, in part (probably), because you’re projecting a room full of women that each have their own appearance and identity. That takes a lot of energy. So there i was, projecting my future into an uncertain future, and, as such, into the past. i don’t know who was taking advantage of me—on the other hand, I didn’t know who i was helping, either. i imagined, of course, that I could talk to Shakespeare and my smoker friend, but i was aware of a room full of women. In the end, my future became something else, and many of the people following me from the past turned their backs on me, (probably because I was losing my grip on my future, and, because of that, their future).
But Ursula represented my future now—and I wasn’t investing too much energy in either the future or the past, which left me the ability to function in the present – to provide those in the future with the means to address me and talk to me (with my work). my stomach was loaded with water now—it seems that my medication might be causing constipation problems—or the medication may not have had that much to do with it and i just had a slow moving gut; but it wasn’t always like this—it started up, i think, when i quit drinking and smoking. I considered, too, that, i might’ve permanently had stool making its way into my rectum—getting hard from a lack of access to water, and blocking the other stool behind it. But that would’ve been happening, if i was constipated, whether i’d managed to do a little damage to the sleeve that connects your intestines to your rectum or not.
Anyhow, i wasn’t “packing” anything now, and I hadn’t been for over a decade. So I think it was a combination of the medicine and a slow moving gut. But my stomach was loaded with water because i’d started taking psyllium husk in powder form to combat this condition. I seemed to be going every three or four days (without letting out as much) as opposed to going about once a week, and letting out a relatively huge amount of stool. i wasn’t in any pain or discomfort—i just wanted to quit clogging up the toilet—and withholding so much waste—something that was serving me no purpose in being there, other than adding a couple pounds to my weight. But what, you might ask, does this have to do with Ursula? I don’t know, really—I was trying to type using her voice; i’m intoning her voice, and this is what’s coming out, so I can only assume that this is something she would enjoy reading.
But enough of that—i wanted Ursula’s reaction to the poems i’d written today; i might’ve indicated that i thought something was wrong with somebody if Ursula was refusing to marry her fiancée for over three years now, or if there was something wrong with me for thinking and imagining that I could be desirable to someone so amazing. Of course she was going to tell me that she loved me, and everything was leading up to us sharing a life together, but it occurred to me that telepathic communications are not necessarily a truth serum—we might be projecting half-truths, too, such that, God forbid, Ursula was trying to string both me and her boyfriend along so that she would never have to be alone if something went wrong.
Selfish, i thought. But Ursula wasn’t selfish, and, even if she was, that would have more to do with the consequences of being a telepath in a world that knew nothing about the field—and couldn’t help her. I was determined to work with her, even if she was difficult, because I thought she had good genes, in part, and, also, because I believed that she was an overall good person that would do what I wanted when she was the president. I felt so safe when I was talking to Ursula—I was very relaxed. She asked me, then, about the joy i felt after some other woman had complimented my paintings—a woman that, it seemed, was very friendly and nice to me, at least when she felt like it, which was often enough. So Ursula was real enough to be jealous, which, i don’t know, could’ve meant that a woman behind Ursula was beginning to make her presence felt, or, on the other hand, she was becoming increasingly real.
Ursula wondered, then, if she should dye her hair, but I managed to convince her that she might lose credibility that way—since, when you dye your hair blond, you’re making a statement—you’re advertising. It might work in the short run, but, in the long run, it wouldn’t make any difference—unless, of course, your personality changed when you dyed your hair, making you, I don’t know, more of a one-night stand kind of girl. i’m not a one-night stand kind of girl—i’m in this for the long run; i decide before I have sex if there’s something there – not after. Great, so, well, when I was drinking I might’ve been a one night stand kind of guy, if, that is, it weren’t for my condition—but I suppose my condition really has nothing to do with it. I was just a one night stand kind of guy—searching, i suppose, for a mate, in some respects, but, in being a one-night stand kind of guy, choosing, sadly, women that I already felt were inadequate.
so you used to be a jerk? “I used to be a jerk, about half the time, when I drank—the other half of the time i felt something spiritual, and I could make people laugh.” But? “Well, the older you get the more of a jerk you become, since, after all, the high and the spiritual part are diminished, and you become angry that a) the alcohol isn’t working; and, b) you can’t be yourself—and feel loved—without it.” interesting: so, who are you? “I’m a queer man that understands himself to be increasingly heterosexual as his confidence increases. But that doesn’t change the fact that some small part of me will always be queer.” that’s what i figured: So our daughter is named Gwen? “That’s what I inferred and or decided to call her when i identified a voice.”
I was seeing, now, a laundromat, a drawing or painting that a fellow artist did of an angel in a laundromat—then I considered laundromats in apartment buildings—and one of my brothers. So what was this? Did I have a son? Was I talking to someone in the 5D world? How did this relate to Ursula? So this, I figured, at least in part, represented her lover—she was introducing me to him, and saying that sex, for her, was like washing her clothes: she felt good afterwards but felt some inertia leading up to it—unless she had a glass of wine. I didn’t know how to interpret that—i’m not a psychoanalyst, although, i think, i kind of am. I wondered, then, if she felt that way about talking to me or if she was asking me if I felt that way about talking to her. So i told her that, basically, in my experience, doing good day in and day out always has a certain weight attached to it, but, after you complete your task, the weight is gone—if anything you feel completely rejuvenated.
But I didn’t think you should feel inertia when it came to having sex with your partner. I wasn’t going to say anything about that, except i kind of was saying it right now, typing in her voice, but the more i learned about her relationship (and our relationship) the more I questioned the literal relationship that she was in. And, by extension, I questioned her, even if, as a man of 47 years, I was well aware that life isn’t perfect, and, sometimes, we make do the best we can. She still wanted to know if I loved her, however, so I thought that was a good sign—unless i was overhearing her talking to her boyfriend, and he, in fact, was the one feeling the inertia. Then she said that they both experience a little inertia—but when they drink wine everything is okay. they are reenergized by this expression of their love, and, i think, she really loved her boyfriend. It’s possible, i think, to love more than one person at the same time, so I cut her a little slack. But it did mean that you were unstable, given the conditions of a man-driven world.