Well, here we were: my mind was dominated by the anticipation of getting off a few things, getting my sexual health back, not being constipated, and losing ten pounds. It was the main thing i could think of save how my new posts were doing on my social media accounts. I heard a snippet, then, of my scotch uncle (my math uncle) but I don’t know what he said. I’d been dealing with some Wi-Fi issues—nothing major but definitely annoying as i was clearly missing something—and so, once i got that settled, my routine had been disrupted, and I couldn’t focus well enough to apply myself to my math book. I dedicated myself to my new book-length poem instead—shamelessly dense and prone to referencing various forms of literature that other people might not know anything about. Those that did, however, I think, would appreciate it. Maybe not any time soon, of course, but, I think, in the future, since, as a matter of fact, the future is where I live.
I have to be honest—i didn’t know how i was going to wait much longer—i wanted my appointment to be today. But anyhow, I had Ursula on the line right now—she was living in the background—i think she might’ve been waiting to see if I would develop problems when I got off the risperidone and I was in limbo trying to find something to replace it without all the side-effects. Fair enough. Are you safe? Do you have a home? Would you like to live with me? I had a feeling, though, that her apartment was too small for me to use as a studio and store paintings until every so often I could transport them to their storage location. That alone would keep me from moving in with her. As a politician with a moral compass, I doubted, too, that she could afford to look after me in the same way that my parents did. So to make the move—I would need to be making money off my creative endeavors—I would need to contribute to the pot.
Big reality check—and, possibly, not what Ursula wanted to hear. Furthermore my work was going great, and I did consider this house and my parents in it to be my home. But she represented New York until she may or may not have been off to DC, so, for us to be together, i was the one that was going to have to move. That seemed unlikely, right now, but things always change—and they usually change at just the right time. “Do you want me to move?” if you love me, and you want to build a life with me—and you’re therefore on the level—then, yes, i think that is what we should look forward to. but here’s the catch; I think I was talking to the overall Ursula—her true self—not necessarily the person that may or may not have been asking me questions or joking about my life. That person, I think, was dedicated to her fiancé and fiercely loyal—if not subject to mind bending passion, the kind of passion that changes your life in ways that you might not have foreseen.
You’ve got it—but no, this is the real me; we’re talking about something that lives in the indefinite future, since, as it happens, the stars, for now, are crossed. She was referring to the importance of making life affordable for the average American, and, honestly, I had to agree. Her work was more important than me—and my work, I believed, was equally important—at least in a complicated sense. I understood and i was content, looking forward to other things that, nonetheless, would begin to bring us closer, such as, for example, the ability to feel sexual desire—mind bending passion that I no longer felt, but knew, somehow, that, at some point, with a little luck, I might feel again. So yes, there is a vast distance between us, but let me ask you this: do you love to check your social media and see how you are performing and how people are responding to you? Because I do—and i know, in some sense, that means that I’m looking for something that, at present, I don’t have—and it’s more than the presidency—it has to do with real people, too, and how they feel about me.
I knew exactly what she was talking about—looking for a person to share my life with was joined to hoping and praying for commercial success as an artist—and by that I mean, well—I didn’t want to have to worry about money. I wanted assurances that my work would outlive me by a long shot, and that would look more likely if, at some point, during my time here, on earth, I made a mark that could not easily be erased. Lurasidone, Abilify – lurasidone, Abilify – who loves me the most? A little dopamine, perhaps, that might reduce my dependence on diet Dr. Pepper and Raspberry-lime seltzer water. I didn’t want to fight my medication—i wanted to work with it; and, right now, I know I was ready for a change because I was fighting it—so, in a sense, it wasn’t working the same way that it had in the past—i was chasing something, now, that I didn’t think about a few months ago. I didn’t want to go off the rails, and, frankly, I felt a little on edge, of late. A little more carefree and or careless, pounding soda after soda.
You love me, i can tell and yes, we’d gone over that—but the sexual health issue remained a real impediment, no matter how kind she was about it. I wasn’t the real me. And, I know, are we ever the real me? I’d gotten pretty close over the last several years, but, at ten pounds overweight, constipated, and unable to have sex or feel sexual desire, I just wasn’t. I needed to integrate all that—that was the next step in my recovery. It was like a huge part of me got turned off—and i liked that for a while, it made my life manageable and livable, but I was ready, now to move forward. To adapt—to evolve. To integrate! I can’t see how you do it—or why you’d want to change anything; you must know that this longing we share is about more than romantic love—it’s about how we deal with suffering—our work! Indeed, I was happy with my work; but my work was ready to adapt, too—it already was, but, once the new medicine kicked in, and everything was working right, I’d be one step ahead—instead of constantly trying to keep up.