As I regulated my breathing, and did my best to tune in, I found myself reluctant to ask: how are you doing? Or something like that. I didn’t want a conversation with Ursula—I wanted to write this book; i wanted to read the emails she sent me, and compute what, in the future, people would like to read. That was the path to eternal life, and I intended to follow it.
A few days had passed since I last spoke with her, and, frankly, it was getting harder and harder to get some idea of what was going on with the two of us—or was it just the extradimensional me that I wanted to talk to, the guy that could give some input into my thoughts? A little bit of pushback from the fifth dimension is all I wanted. A little bit of something to build on, something that would give me more ammunition and intrigue.
I can’t imagine that Ursula had much time to talk to me, either—she was busy running for the senate, and, possibly, the presidency. Some might say if she ran for president she’d be misreading a historical moment. Perhaps she felt that running and losing would ruin her chances after Superman became the president instead. But I maintain that Superman is more about defeating Trump (and maybe that’s all we need right now) than he is pushing forth an agenda that would do something tremendous about the cost of living.
I heard a snippet, then: Ursula said, “it doesn’t have to be this way,” or something like that—but it was her voice. I honestly don’t know exactly if she was talking to me or someone else and I, effectively, was eavesdropping. Practically everything I did might amount to eavesdropping when you consider how many people actually regulate their breathing and tune in, constantly, to other people with their mind’s ear. “It’s coming down,” or, “it’s going down?” She must have been talking about the Epstein files, which were supposed to connect Jack Daniels to pedophilia. Congress voted, today, to release them—but, let’s face it, republicans and their rich white men get away with everything, and it seems likely that some of the files would be missing—evidence destroyed, if, that is, it’s possible to do that. I don’t know. Maybe you can get the emails from the telecommunications companies—so there’s no one place that can be groomed. I had my fingers crossed. I wanted Jack Daniels to back down. I wanted him to think about what he’d done to our country, and how it was inconceivable.
But if it was all smoke and no fire—then, I ask, where did all the smoke come from? It had to come from other little fires that were hidden from view—people that would do anything for Jack Daniels, included break the law. Anything from the right, at this point, was poison. that’s the way to say it but what did I say? I kept getting the distinct feeling that I was only hearing part of the conversation—as if I was listening to Ursula rethink things that she said while in a conversation with another person. what are you going to do with that? are you going to do it my way? i guess i would, if that’s what she wanted; i thought about it for a minute, then, and i concluded that even though Ursula might have been replaying parts of a conversation in her mind, those parts could have contained information. They were files that I could deposit into my back, helping me to be confident, and be the person that everybody wants me to be. To be the person that other people can look up to, instead of the person that, for whatever reasons, took his aggression out on the powerless.
i give free rein to my thoughts, and, with your help, i’ll be a star—that was what i wanted to hear. I could only hope that Ursula held herself to a higher standard than most women do, and, therefore, wouldn’t get trapped in a bad deal—such as an affair gone wrong; that could only reinforce the right to think of democrats as leftist liberals that want to undermine family values. That would be terrible—but I honestly think she was above this, above me, and above anybody that might think: don’t love him, love me!
you’re exactly right, John and i was happy to hear it. I had no way of knowing, at this time, if a physical relationship was something that I really wanted, and, because of that, I think I was just what Ursula needed—someone safe that she could could talk to—a friend that would have her back if the going, for any reason, should get too tough. i’m laughing about it right now and maybe she was; maybe that statement came from a future in which we knew each other, one, God forbid, in which she read this. I didn’t expect that to happen, necessarily, however, because I didn’t want to get embroiled in what Ursula was doing politically anymore than she would’ve wanted to read something of mine—it might have interfered with what she was getting out of me, something that she might have needed, even if, in so doing, she exhausted what she needed and changed course.