what are you going to do today? Well, should I tell her? Should I tell her something specific, or was the question, on her part, rhetorical? “I’m going to talk to you—and see if I can learn something new.” I couldn’t tell her that ChatGPT and I solved for the lower and upper bounds of a radius that served both a natural log dependence and a corresponding 1/r dependence. I’m not even sure I fully understood it yet—i had to let it sink in. So what could I tell her? That I painted a picture of a man with a rope around his neck, looking down at a woman’s face as if he was in the process of hanging himself?
but that’s what I want to talk about what does it mean? what could i say—i didn’t want to ruin it for her or anybody else, since, when you look at a painting, you’re not meant to know what it might mean right away—you have to think about what it means to you; then, if you want, you can ask others what they think it means. That’s how telepathic paintings work—I speak to these people, through my paintings. And, since I painted what passed through my mind, i didn’t always know what it meant—I was too close to it; i was still inside it. But I figured, to me, it said something about the fact that being with a woman at this point in my life would be paramount to the suicide of the person i was becoming—my true self, math and all, that might very well be making me impotent—among a few other things that could only be helped with time and experience.
You don’t want to disappoint them, but you must do what feels right and that’s exactly what I’m doing, “I pursue every lead to a logical conclusion.” And yet, again, I had forgotten to invoke my scotch uncle’s voice every now and them when I was doing my math and physics. I guess I needed to stick with it—but, I admit, math and physics time had been a time in which I didn’t think about the voices I project or the likelihood of telepathic awareness. I basically just let my internal narrator go—focusing instead on asking questions and keeping the line open for everybody. Ursula, at this point, wanted to secure the channel a little more than usual by switching to a four count (which I kind of just slipped into, which is why it seemed as if she was driving for a moment); next she seemed to want to go back to normal amplitudes, so i did. I don’t know if i can do this “do you mean you think you’re going to have panic attacks?” Certainly i didn’t know what to tell her—she couldn’t drop out of the race—i needed her. Was she saying she couldn’t do this to her partner—having this emotional love affair? Or did she mean she couldn’t break up with her partner because she didn’t know how to be alone who knows when you’re going to get here?
“But you’re stronger than that—you don’t need to be having sex to be living at your most confident and happy level; you could do it that way—if you were with the right person at the right time; but it isn’t necessary.” I don’t know, then, if she thought I was implying that her partner wasn’t right for her—but I was just listening to someone that responded when I dialed her in. Did I want her? To be mine? Of course, but the priority was getting me taken care of—and others like me—that can’t work. I was of the opinion that nobody should have to work—that working would be a choice made by the extra income that you’d have coming in. And where was all this money going to come from? billionaires and trillionaires—the country was wealthy enough to take care of everybody if it just quit the notion that somebody is entitled to more money than they know how to spend. They’re not spending it: that’s the problem.
Superman made a comment: that we need affordable healthcare; that was good, but it made me wary; was he going to take the centrist view that healthcare for all wasn’t a possibility—or, in fact, might not even be, for him, desirable? I was tired of waiting for the government to pay for my healthcare—for everybody’s healthcare. I put my weight, firmly, behind Ursula. And she was thankful, i think, although don’t say it; I was going to say I could be delusional. But she’s right—I am generating thoughts and frequencies through my body and mind. I had no reason to put myself down—I was doing something that, if you gave it a chance, made sense, even if people’s minds, in general, are still too foggy to speak to. I was definitely going to have to pay her ten dollars, for my sake. But I was going to wait until she really needed it, like when, for example, she was running for the senate or the presidency.
I was seeing a movie star now that has a reputation, as a fifty something year old, for dating women in their early twenties. The vibe and image were powerful—big, and, in that way, amplified. So what the heck was that? Ursula’s anxiety—the anxiety she wasn’t telling me about? Or did the various women represent my various creative endeavors? That was more likely. I don’t know how I could manage spending a bunch of time on women in their early twenties when I could have the life I wanted if I stuck with Ursula—but maybe the image came from my smoker friend—I did tune him in for a moment, to see how Ursula would respond. It might have been his way of saying that you don’t ever get to go home—as this person from the future. You’re before your time, and you have to make do, whenever and however you can.
But i thought of my painting, and how, women, for me, are akin to suicide, but maybe what Ursula was telling me was that women, for me, would be akin to suicide either way—with or without them—since I don’t get to go back to the future—a place that would be considered home if I wasn’t so determined to be my true self—eternally from the future. But I think Ursula was saying that you might want a companion—whatever companion you can get, when your parents pass away. If that happens, as I’ve mentioned, I run the risk of ranting in order to use my voice—to make sure it hadn’t abandoned me. That was not going to happen, though, because I had my medicine that stopped it, but it still just seems like a life without the possibility of a complex conversation would be missing out.
So, what? I needed to grow up a little—and accept what life offers me; even if it means stepping from stone to stone for the duration of my life. On the other hand, i might fit perfectly with Ursula—or someone behind Ursula that is the real person that is speaking to me, and find that, even still, I would experience a deep yearning and longing for something that would remain forever out of my reach—at least until I joined myself in the life to come. But I didn’t believe that I’d be that way with Ursula if we truly loved each other—I might not get to go home, but if I stuck with my path and went in the same direction as another person, I could have conversations, share my love with someone, and, in so doing, if experience, so far, means anything, then I will both increase my faith and continue to magnify my calling, which, ultimately, would put me at home.