So I was basically just writing a math book at this point—everything you needed to know (and how you knew it) to prove that the Riemann hypothesis was true. That meant, at times, it felt a little tedious, since I wasn’t doing anything new; but it was new to me—so it still kept me going for a couple hours a day, which, if you think about it, and you do it almost every day, is enough (probably) to accomplish your goals. You also had to let things sink in if the material you were reading was kind of compacted, so, at times, it was best not to work more than two hours. You’d risk getting ahead of yourself and forgetting everything much faster than you normally might.
Well, I was writing this installment early in the morning, after working on my math, but without doing any poetry, because I wanted to give due diligence to Ursula and her voice—I needed to make sure I wasn’t losing her by focusing and projecting her voice into my typing and my thinking. We’re in this together she finally said, and I took that to mean she wanted to represent me as president, and, possibly, be friends—but I also secretly believed that she was saying that she had feelings for both me and her boyfriend, and she was saying that she knew she had to work some things out, and she didn’t want to lose me no matter what happened—whether she partnered with me or not. We didn’t need to marry—I was beyond that, and by that I don’t mean I was beyond people that do marry because that wasn’t necessarily true; I just felt that, for me, personally, I wasn’t necessarily built that way. As in I wasn’t necessarily meant to live with somebody, unless we could manage it, somehow, as if we were more than friends but still on equal footing with our careers—the two had to balance out.
You’re doing great Indeed, i felt that i was, at least a little bit—but there was still this unknowable space between us; moments like this often arise when I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, and, for me, there isn’t a whole lot of down time—things just get frustrating, and then they resolve. I catalogued the various voices in my head to make sure I had them properly addressed, “now you can do anything,” Mozart said—was he listening in? I’d worked on my classical piece yesterday, going up an octave with the violin for a modest amount of time—but enough to change the theme, after a period of violin silence while I focused on the cello. But can I just say something right quick? Yes i was so much happier now that I’d settled with my heterosexuality—I didn’t doubt, anymore, that I liked girls, and, of course, I was pleased with myself for describing myself in such a way that the homosexual percentage of my overall sexuality would make me immune to some jerk that might want to dismiss me as a closet case. It seems to me that anything off the beaten path when it comes to a person’s sexuality is a number 1 form of gossip and, often enough, hateful gossip. I wasn’t going to be victimized by it.
But maybe Ursula wanted me to ask her questions—or contribute by showing an interest in her real-time existence—not just what was going on with me, and what she might need or want to know if a physical relationship proved inevitable. But there wasn’t much i wanted to ask her—i was never good at talking on the phone. But maybe she didn’t want me to ask big questions, i thought. Maybe she wanted me to share things that didn’t beg for her approval—or an argument. So I tried to think of something to say, and then I kind of automatically heard myself say (in her voice) “Are you moving away?” what do you mean? i don’t know what I meant, so, I guess it’s possible she asked me that, since, when it comes to telepathic communications, you project in their voice—and you hear them in their voice. “Don’t be worried about me,” I said, intentionally, but I’d kind of said it in my voice so I did it again in her voice. that’s fine.
She was never going to leave New York, was she? Well, not any time soon, but, I imagined, if we met, well, then, by that time I could afford to travel a little and live some place else for a while, so I imagined we’d live in different places. That was the only thing, I imagined, that was going to work, since, after all, I don’t see New York City—or any cramped place where i might not be able afford the space that i needed, as my home. It would be wonderful to have friends there, and see them, and experience what New York has to offer at certain times of the year, but “if this is going to work, then you’re going to have to live in the country, part of the time—for my sake.”
I understand that but she was right—I might have to accept life in a city from time to time—at least I had a brother that lived in DC, which is where Ursula, naturally, is going to end up—so maybe I could divide my time between DC and the hills; but I think New York might’ve been a dealbreaker—really. If I didn’t accompany her she might get lonely and wonder why we’re not together. I’d risk getting treated badly—indeed, i’d be treating myself badly if I put myself in such a position. Somehow—though, I think Ursula might’ve enjoyed time to herself in the same way that I did—in a way that didn’t feel lonely and, because of that, cause all kinds of problems. So yeah, Are you moving away? And the answer was, “No, not without a reason, anyhow.”
“How is the weather,” which, for me, was like asking, what is your state of mind? I’m fine so what was I going to say to that? I’m terrible at talking on the phone. I like people to talk to me—I only talk to them when I can see them, and, sometimes, I don’t understand my work well enough to talk about it, and work is all I do, so what gives? i’m good at arithmetic – “Ok.” Cinder, cinder, shiver me timber “What are you like in bed?” I’m kind of an idiot for posing the question—I don’t even know what I’m like in bed, since I’ve hardly ever gone to bed sober. But it was a question I was prompted to ask, so I asked it, hoping to infer, that, well, nothing was impossible, but, in my natural state, i prefer a little variety. Was that her way of saying she liked to be on top? Because it seemed to me it was like a very cautionary way of saying that she’d do things blonds would do.