As i boiled over in embarrassment (for, once upon a time, drawing unwarranted attention to myself), i turned, quickly, to my counting mechanism—as if, for example, i felt like i had pepper sticking to my throat—and did my best to keep the conversation private—that is, in my head as opposed to in my throat. Whoever was responsible for putting pepper in my throat must’ve really been serious about something, because pepper in your threat is dangerous and scary. i guess i wanted to talk about politics because some small part of me told me that I could do something to get Jack Daniels removed from office if I stuck to my telepathic guns. But let’s be real. Jack’s base wouldn’t allow him to be impeached. A year from now, however—if democrats could take back the house and the senate, then there was a shred of possibility, but, sadly, even if things turned out great for the democrats, they probably couldn’t get a two thirds majority vote in the senate.
i will consider a run for president after the 2026 midterms; i wondered how amped my telepathic communications would be if I were the president. The possibilities (as the driving force that would mirror a target frequency) had me interested—even if i had to sacrifice a lot time to go around the world shaking hands and trying to understand lawyer speak. But, alas, i was a basement dweller and there was no viable path to the presidency no matter how appealing or resonant such an occupation might be. You didn’t need the presidency to resonate, anyhow. You just needed to be good at tuning into and generating various frequencies that aligned with both the time period you were living in and your idea of long term happiness. Anything less than happiness would have been unacceptable because our consciousness is designed, both in this life and the next, to make us happy. To be unhappy, then, was pointless—you’d be happy in the afterlife no matter what—unless, of course, you didn’t exist, and, if that were the case, well, nothing could happen to you.
Once you find an easier way of doing things you might wonder how you got by in the first place—and, if you’re a painter, you might think, “i think i’m on to something,” but you might also think, with respect to your previous work, “i’ll never be able to work that hard again.” So i was taking the approach, now, of writing a poem or a novel—i wasn’t using a reference; i was waiting for the imagery to manifest itself, and then, i’d do my best to paint something based on my memory of it. That allowed a lot of room for creativity—which you don’t always get when using a reference photograph. i remember, anyhow, as a kid, i used to think that drawing while looking at something is cheating—i rebelled from that attitude for years, because, especially when you don’t have years of experience or muscle memory to help you, the things you can do with your imagination are limited. You can’t remember any details.
Now, as for Ursula, I wanted a life with her—but I couldn’t imagine being with her anymore than i could imagine being with a man. I still wasn’t me—and until (if ever) my talents are making me money that makes me independent, i won’t be the real me anywhere but in this special realm of telepathic communications and energy transfers from this dimension to the next. That, to me, was becoming increasingly self-evident: i was so far outside the normal realm of society that people couldn’t just look at my stuff and say—look at all this talent! I was in a stage where people would see what i was doing and, in order not to be made a fool out of (because of the outlandish claims and viewpoints expressed in my work), people wanted (you) to have some kind of recognition that said, “hey, this is the real deal,” and that, of course, was going to take some time.
The only possibility of being with, preferably a woman—and i’m not just saying that because my superego might or might not be telling me that being gay is wrong, was if this particular woman took a chance on believing in me and what i was trying to do—and admired me and looked up to me simply because of that. That could happen—it was unlikely that i’d meet someone that i thought was both pretty and intelligent enough to form an opinion about my work—necessarily, as we just said, a positive opinion—but i wouldn’t need physical confirmation of my physical theories to get there—i’d just need enough attention to convince people that might’ve been leaning to one side of the fence that, in fact, yes, some people out there dare to like my work: some people out there dare to believe in me—and that, as an artist, i have a future, if not in this life (due to the impossibility of being discovered) then in the next.
But the bottom line for me was: hey, i can take all this knowledge with me to the afterlife, and, once there, i’ll have an infinite amount of time to be discovered—or, as the case may be, my aura in the afterlife would say it all. i take my medicine—i like to take my medicine because i need the help that medicine provides; but i don’t think i’ll need it in the life to come, since, in that case, all my powers will be harnessed and maximized without some kind of generalized filter—a filter that, sometimes, no doubt, deems something unimportant when, in fact, it could be just the thought that i was looking for. that said, my motto is this: anything that helps me sleep (without being addictive)—even if i miss out on some things from time to time—is a good thing—is something i’ll continue to take—and not only that—i’ll be exceedingly thankful for it, too.
i think i might’ve slipped into phase with Ursula there—as if she wanted to know my take, which, i think, would form an important part of her world view—in the event that she ever needed to take anything, or if she were worried that i, at some point, might, like so many people, quit taking my medicine (since it likely contributed to my impotence by blocking how dopamine-loaded i can get). Anyhow—things were really happening for me—i’d changed the way i paint, and i’d written two seventy page physics papers about an extra-dimensional reality that could explain consciousness—and how, if this were true, life in that dimension was inevitable. You could look back, i think, on this past year of my life, as my extra-dimensional rise to power—i’d finally (seemingly, at least) realized the things that, at one time, I believed to be true, but that, sadly, theretofore, hadn’t even come close to becoming real.