What was the world up to? So superman was supposed to go to some climate summit in Jack Daniels’ place—an affront to Jack Daniels, who declined to go, and people, I think, were worried that if they accepted this man, superman, and allowed for his input, then they’d face retribution. I wanted Ursula for president, but a lot of people wanted to go with superman, and, I thought: what if superman becomes president—should i use his voice to contact myself in the other world, to communicate in and out of the fifth dimension? It would be different than with Ursula—Ursula was from the future—but it wasn’t that different because Ursula also existed in the timeless realm, and, as such, whenever i talked to Ursula on earth, i was also talking to Ursula on the other side.
But talking to me was something I hadn’t thought of—and I was keen to give myself every advantage I could get. We could share our thoughts, couldn’t we? The president might be my mouthpiece, then, although, for now, I’d decided that I was talking to myself when I projected my voice—but that didn’t necessarily let me zone in on something outside of myself—intoning my own voice was kind of like making myself available to channel whoever was there right there and right then to speak to me, albeit from the past or the future. I felt that, in order to talk to myself, who might be different from me, it might be wise to consider another person like a president—a mouthpiece—that i could designate for the parts of myself that got lost in translation between what we thought we knew about each other. Granted—projecting my voice probably meant that I was talking to myself since nobody but me was better suited to be there right there and right then, but i might have been missing out on some things that i thought i knew, but that, in fact, i was getting a little wrong.
One of the secrets of talking to people with your telepathic powers is to choose a body that is not necessarily attractive to you—there’s something about them that turns you off: that can help because it might bring repressed parts of myself to the surface, parts of myself that I might’ve been avoiding, and, in so doing, making myself unhappy. But, no matter what I did, I was of no small opinion that doing my best to get ahead in this life would make my hyper-self proud and possibly even inspired. That was the whole point—to actualize, to individuate, to be at one with myself. Anyhow, I had my space heater running at this point, and the lights were dimmed; it was a little past dinner time, and I was contemplating eating half as much as I normally would, to get my weight safely in the 163 range.
It was exceedingly comfortable to be close to my heater—the temperatures had begun to drop; mid-November would be upon us, soon, and then it would be winter. The only thing that wasn’t going for me at this point was a dentist appointment. Don’t get me wrong, it was just routine cleaning—there were no contingent expenses that would likely make me go bankrupt, but i just didn’t like going. Who does? So I figured I wouldn’t complain. At some point I was going to have to get a colonoscopy ever five years. That was going to be both invasive and miserable, but, then again, if it saves my life, well, i want to live as long as i can.
But how did my greater self feel at this juncture? I wondered sometimes, if, in the other world, I never married, but just visited with people from time to time. Other times I thought, no, Ursula will be perfect for me—it will be a match made in heaven! But in reality I lived a characteristically solitary life—save in the evenings, when I moved upstairs to be with my parents. But everything would work out for the best—and who knows? Maybe Ursula was a solitary creature, too, and we’d live apart, meeting up, from time to time, for meals and or the mating season, which was sure to leave me pining for her company, if, that is, we were a perfect match, if, that is, I needed or wanted a match at all.