I’d been getting better results—and i might be more willing to listen to Ursula in real life—if i didn’t project her voice all the time. So I decided I could use Ursula’s voice mainly in the time that we were writing, and, when doing other things, I could use my voice alone—or even go back to using my voice and an uncle’s voice or even my father’s voice in combination—one using consonants and the other using vowels—which is something I used to do as I was losing my mind about thirteen years ago. I think, back then, I even used to switch it up in the afternoon, and I had different days for different voices—at least i’m pretty sure I did: it’s hard to say anything for sure about that time back then, but a lot of what I was doing then was worthwhile—if I didn’t get greedy and try to push things such that I ended up on the other side sooner rather than later—I really thought that I’d been born on another planet—that the dead were really still alive, living in the spaces that our eyes couldn’t see. It was fertile ground—but not if you overdid it, like, I think, I’d been doing with Ursula.
give him a spanking she said; i don’t know how. what are you hung up on? was she speaking, through her entity on the other side, from a future point in which we a) had a child together, or b) i projected we had a child together so that I could access real telepathic passageways—a whole new world living inside my head. The latter was probably the case—and yet, as I saw it, projecting non-stop can lead to you inadvertently wanting to go to heaven too soon, and you’ll break down. You don’t want to project too much. You still need to live in this reality, with all its possibilities, and all its real-life limitations.
do you need a hand with that? Was she joking? (i’m disabled—i can’t live without the support of others, and, to the point, i’m completely impotent) so i told her no, i didn’t need a hand with “that”—she knew as well I did that, if she said something like that, I’d only think of how—as a forty-seven year old man that will always live with his parents, and a man on all kinds of medication, and a man that identifies as queer, well—naturally impotence goes to follow. Was she taking a jab? no, i wasn’t, you’re being too sensitive but, did she or didn’t she know that’s what I’d think, and, if she didn’t know, then how well did she really know me? But I felt like an idiot, then, because I realized she was innocent—she didn’t make such a big deal out of these things, at least not for now, and she’d really meant, in good faith, that if I wanted her help, she’d help.
you’re a rock solid guy well, here we were: i was imagining that she was looking up to me in the way that I needed her to in order for me to feel like myself—to be myself. It was nice to be noticed as one of the good guys, someone that she liked and possibly even admired. I certainly admired her even if I couldn’t imagine a physical relationship. I was way too far removed from the semi-independent and the semi-dependent artistic success that I need to be the real me—i mean, i am the real me right now, in a sense, but, naturally, I had other personas that were dormant—and thankfully so, since i was perfectly adapted to the life I led. I just wondered—what about me? I live in this fantasy world, I thrive on conceit, although, to my credit, I keep it all to myself. As best I can—I know I’m somebody else sometimes when I sleep, somebody that wakes up, I think, when “they” fall in love.
Well, i’d just been typing away: i was trying to keep Ursulas voice on the line when I was typing. I wanted to stay with her—to be connected as much as possible in this our hour. we get an hour, like in the Koran that’s funny, i thought; when I wasn’t myself (when i wasn’t well) i thought the Koran was mocking me—i got an hour, in the afternoon, to read and drink a full glass of vodka—that was pretty much the only time the TV was turned off—save when I was in the bathtub, force-relaxing the muscles in my back, why? So I could go farther? That’s right. But I was using myself to do that which I shouldn’t have been doing. The telepathic stuff was great, but, as I said, I was using it to block out the fact that I had no business living on my own, much less in a city full Mormons—people that shun those of us that were born queer.
Anyhow—I totally defaced my Koran book—in part, because i had no outlet, and in part, because that was something that was explicitly forbidden. I was so immature—behaving, as I did, as if it was possible to be funny and not okay at the same time. I’ll give you space and I was glad that she would—but I don’t know that I wanted to turn her away. I needed, instead, to integrate her, to let her into my life—at least, that is, when it came to telepathic communications, such as yesterday, when she was teaching me that I could modulate my amplitude and my frequency—the pitch of my voice, if I wanted to communicate in more elaborate ways. if you like me just say so that was her, she changed amplitudes when she said that, and then she did it the other way, as a whisper, too, and I thought, what? You know I like you—this isn’t just me trying to make you think you’re crazy, i.e., gaslighting you. Why would I even do that unless I wasn’t myself—and I was seeking revenge?