I’d been working on my physics papers a lot, and, consequently, there’d been a certain hiatus of my daily appointments with Ursula; i hadn’t been using, or I hadn’t been conscious of using, her voice as much—trying to replicate it in my mind and tune in, so to speak. That was all well and good because neither one of us needed to be totally dependent on the other—ever. There always had to be room for energy to go out and come in. So what was going on in the world of physics? Well, i’d argued that a hidden fifth dimension existed and that the momentum in that dimension corresponded to mass—this was nothing new. Other people had done this before. But i’d argued that something called “spin” was the bridge between the fifth dimension and the other four, and that this spin-dimension had coordinates such that, altogether, it encoded phase history.
The conditions of this fifth dimension were such that its curved geometry led to waves that were partially closed off and resonating with each other—and this resonance extended to 4D such that 4D and 5D interacted with each other. I took the liberty, then, of arguing that consciousness was the inevitable result of a tendency of waves to self-organize, and that this self-organization also extended to 4D. So i was saying that you could communicate with “the other side” or through the other side and, as such, life after death was inevitable and, furthermore, I could, through spin, engage in telepathic communications. Needless to say, i was reinvigorated by the thought that what i think and do in my realm could connect me directly to what Ursula thinks and does in her realm.
I was looking forward, in other words, to another appointment—this appointment, in fact. I was looking, however, at all the damage Jack Daniels had done in this first year of his presidency, and I didn’t know how I, or Ursula, was going to wait another three years for this nightmare to be over. I didn’t want that time to be here already—because the following three years were a pivotal chunk of my life that I wanted to experience fully, but, in a way, I wanted the destruction and the chaos to stop—almost no matter what. How impatient Ursula must have felt to know, for certain, whether or not she was going to be our president, a president, the president, etc.
I didn’t want her to wish her life away either. So i wanted, as such, to be in love with this person—love is the ultimate entertainment, and, as such, the enemy of boredom—which, for many, including myself, amounted to torture. hi, how are you? I got an answer, too—don’t laugh, because the response wasn’t invented—Ursula’s voice said, fine. But I couldn’t just write about whatever we talked about, since, as you’ve probably noticed, our conversations could get top secret in some cases—probably because we lived so far away in the 4D continuum. Nothing seemed real, and, moreover, you kind of doubted the reality of telepathic communications even when you were using them—because our greatest fear, ultimately, is to be suckered. Only that explains the resistance people have for believing in a higher power—something that, because of consciousness, we experience every single day.
Admittedly, i didn’t know what to say—it was like we were on the phone together, and, usually, when I’m on the phone, i don’t do a lot of talking. I usually just listen to what other people have to say because the things I do throughout my day don’t translate to plain English. I didn’t want to talk on the phone to Ursula—i wanted to share her company; hence, i choose not to strike up a conversation in Navajo speak (a vowel dominant conversation where the syllables get spaced out second by second or unit by unit). I was most comfortable, I think, in simply projecting her voice or writing these words while thinking them in her voice—or my voice as the consonants and her voice as the vowels, to be exact. everything we’re doing right now boils down to racism she said, or i said, or we both said—but i agreed. This was about white people losing representation (because they were getting fewer and fewer as time dragged on)—they fundamentally didn’t want to lose the feeling they got when they deemed themselves, however privately, as superior to every other race.
Race was becoming a little meaningless, nowadays and anyhow, because more and more people from different backgrounds were marrying and having mixed children. Mixed children were the future of this country—and also the planet—no matter how much—or precisely because of—some secret fascination with marrying a blond. Go, have your fun Ursula said—only a little angry, i think. But I was undergoing a fundamental change of being—blonds appealed to me a little less than they did last year, and even lesser than they did the year before that—because, as it happens, once i realized i was completely impotent, i didn’t blame it on some latent desire to marry someone that would yield blond children. As a last resort (when it comes to sex—with men or women), i was relying on the way I felt when i was in the person’s company—as in, would I want to step things up a notch if we do have sex? And if the answer was no, then, I’d remain impotent indefinitely.