I woke up an hour early and played with the idea of taking a bath and listening to my clock—to try and get back on track. But that would have put me almost an hour behind, and, besides, i didn’t know if i had the patience anymore, at this time, to sit in a bath long enough to really get something out of it. But without my metronome—and regulating my breathing, i felt a little estranged from myself—as if i needed some degree of meditation, and the help of a ticking clock, to really regulate, and get centered. So i brought my clock close to my computer, where, if i listened closely, I could make it out over the sound of the dehumidifier, which i ran, in the basement, with me, in the mornings, when it was warm outside. I wished i could hear it a little better, for this, but i was anxious to listen to my clock, and incorporate more meditation into my writing, right now. That meant that i took a breath for three seconds and exhaled for three seconds when i was paying enough attention to it, which was a little longer than I normally breathe. When i was living in Mormon town, after having lost my mind, and continuing, over time, to lose my mind, I used to listen to the clock all the time, and count a three count, a four count, or an extended count—inhale in for four seconds and exhale out for eight seconds. Despite losing my mind, and listening to the clock too much, I still believe that it was the clock, and my mindful, regulated, measured breathing, that made it possible for me to tap into the 5D universe—and many of the ideas that i still draw from today. The life, then, was an experiment born out of a desperate attempt to both occupy myself and maintain my sanity, and, although i went off the deep end, the experiment, in and of itself, led to valuable results.
In losing myself, i managed to recover parts of myself that might’ve otherwise remained suppressed in a way that would’ve left the person i was to become disconnected from the person that I really am. I’m here, now, waiting for you. “And I am here.” I wondered if she also meditated—it didn’t matter to me one way or the other if she didn’t need it—you didn’t have to take time out to meditate if you incorporated meditation into everything you did, or you were completely happy, and yourself, without it, which, as far as I was concerned, would have complemented me well enough one way or the other—so long as my Ursula was beautiful, which, no doubt she was. But i tended to get away from myself from time to time when I was doing something—and or my thoughts could run away without the occasional help of time to realign, and get centered again. Otherwise I began to feel a little lost—and the tension in my neck, shoulders, and back only seemed to build.
So i thought, since I’m not taking a bath, and getting centered in my makeshift hot tub and sauna, which, granted was part of my routine, long ago, and part of my journey, then i’ll recite, to myself, when lying in bed, the lines i have managed to memorize, at least every now and then, so i do not forget them, and i have them at my disposal on the occasions that i do decide that i’m getting my money’s worth out of all that water—which, i don’t know, given how much water costs—and the amount of money i used to make—taking a bath felt like a bit of a luxury, since i wouldn’t have been able to afford it on my own, without my parents’ help. But I did have my parents’ help, and I wasn’t sorry about that, so i tried not to feel bad about how expensive i was, i.e., the painting supplies, the baths, the soda pop, the soda water, the blueberries, the orange juice, etc. But the fact of the matter was that all those things were not really luxuries, they were to go, naturally, with someone that spends a lot of time at home, and, as such, doesn’t spend a lot on the things that other people spend money on, such as going out to eat, etc.—i only felt guilty, at times, because of how shitty my country was, and how impossible, without my parents’ help, a normal, acceptable, life would have been. But that wasn’t my fault. That was down to the selfishness, and the cruelty, of the people that lived in, and ran, my country.
All the disparate ways to say goodbye . . . one after the other. What was i going to do when my dehumidifier shut off, and, if i listened, i could heart the ticking of the clock on the wall? Would I need the ticking of my clock, at my side, if i paid attention? But the clock on the wall wasn’t quite loud enough, thankfully so, for the specific meditation time i was looking for, so, would the two clocks interfere, and force me to rely, solely, on the clock on the wall, and just pay more attention? I hoped that the clock, next to me, would be loud enough to dominate, since I wanted that intensity, as needed. But I’d have to wait another hour or so to find out, when the dehumidifier finished its four hour cycle. You can do it without me. She was right—I didn’t need her, explicitly, to embrace my sexuality, or my life in general—i had my imagination, and, over time, i’d learned to ignore the shame that i might otherwise feel—or do away with it, in many cases, altogether. That went hand in hand with being loved, especially when you didn’t bend over backwards to keep something hidden—when it wasn’t the end of the world if people could read between the lines, and get some sense, indeed, of just how different, and special, you really are.
Well, i’d gained a few pounds, even without the risperidone, so I’d decided I’d quit eating lunch again, as I did when I was on the risperidone, until i got back down to 167 or 168—which was what I accepted as my natural weight, even if the modest belly i had made 160 more of the ideal weight i really had in mind. So i was having my fifth Dr. Pepper of the day—a little too much, perhaps, but, considering how much I used to rely on something, albeit booze, coffee, and or cigarettes, this, i think, was to be expected, even if it begged the question—what, exactly, is being suppressed? Is it possible that i was just a creature of habit—that, in heaven, when there would be no negative side effects to drinking alcohol, or, possibly, even smoking for a limited period of time, i would find myself, even then, a creature of habit? That, even when I was completely myself, I’d still prefer to tune to different channels in a slightly compartmentalized way, as opposed to letting everything enter my consciousness whenever and however circumstances permitted? Did i want that kind of control—or, on the other hand, that kind of limitation, or boundary?
Was i just made that way? I didn’t know, but i wouldn’t have been surprised if, in fact, something, about me, was still being suppressed, considering how different i am, and all the things that, in the past, i was forced to, and did, suppress. The question was—what was being suppressed, why was it being suppressed, and what could I do about it? When something is suppressed, it’s suppressed for a reason—your life, and your circumstance, can’t stand it—you can’t function—so, indeed, in order to not suppress something, something about your life had to change, but what, I wondered, could that be? Writing and recording more songs? But my other work, for me, was more integral to my peace of mind. Was it something to do with my sexuality? But how could that be—since i gave free reign to my imagination, and did my best to accept my fantasies, and the notion that, indeed, at some point, if only in the next life, i would act them out? So what else could it be? But you never really know what your suppressing, in full, i.e., not just your sexuality, but all the different aspects of your mind and soul that your sexuality represents, until it begins to emerge from the surface.
I figured it must have something to do with the love i feel, and would express, if the conditions were right. It must have something to do with my faith, my understanding of the 5D universe, and a willing suspension of disbelief, that, because of the world I lived in, and all the bad people that did willingly suspend their disbelief, if they had any disbelief to begin with, proved entirely too difficult. Yes, i think it had something to do with faith, and all the people, nowadays, that blindly believe at the expense of reason, combined with all the people that don’t believe at all—and how my beliefs, if confronted, would be deemed alien, and indicative of a mental illness. I might say the same thing about the world, but the world defines the norm, and the norm, by definition, is not considered ill, even if they are. So yes, I think it had something to do with the fact that I would be dismissed as mentally ill if i didn’t play my cards exactly right—that i didn’t live in a world that supported me and my philosophy—my religion, even. I needed, I think, a clearer picture of religion in my life, and i needed to dismiss the shame that goes with believing in something that others don’t agree with.
I needed to believe—and i needed to find no fault with that—and act, accordingly, even if i’m forced, by the world, to keep some things hidden. I can still accept them, and integrate them, and find ways to introduce them to other people in a sensitive way, a way that might not be deemed a threat—either to them, or to me. But yes, my dehumidifier had turned off, and the clock i had right next to me had, indeed, trumped the clock on the wall, which was what i was hoping for. The voice of my internal, runaway narrator was still a little too dominant—i couldn’t project Anna’s voice as well as i felt that i needed to—or, if not Anna’s voice, then the sound of my voice, or any voice—so long as it wasn’t the manic voice of a default narrator that tried to act without regulation, discipline, and self control. A narrator that, however talented, had too much power, and, in a still, small way, both abused me and took advantage of me. Especially when working with AI—doing my math and physics. Things, then, can really get out of hand. That’s when the tension really builds in my neck, shoulders, and back, and i need something—some stimulant or depressant—to distract me from the mounting discomfort. If i was truly a creature of habit, and i wasn’t doing things at my expense, then I needed to change my state of mind because I wanted to tune into something—not because i needed to tune something out, which, at this stage, i still, and, in this life, might always need, at least in part, to do. Hence the importance of meditation, and getting centered, especially when things begin to feel as if they’re getting out of hand—as if the train, along the curve, is getting ahead of itself.