Wow—you’re really moving freight! I think she was excited because I’d figured out how to publish my music to those that could play it (like Amazon music)—in fact, in about ten days, I’d be able to listen to my jazz piece through Alexa, Amazon’s music (speaker) and player. Now, I know what you’re thinking: that’s not such a big deal—nobody is going to be able to find you, and, even if they did, they might listen to one song for ten seconds and decide they weren’t interested. So yeah, publishing the music was more about investing in a legacy than it was making money or getting any kind of notoriety whatsoever. People, including Ursula, (and including me) needed to understand that. But I think Ursula did understand that, and she was simply excited for me for what it was—something that she could turn on in the background at her convenience.
Anyhow—I do feel that i’ve reclaimed parts of myself—not just my physics self, but my math self and my music self, too. All of this in the past year! So indeed, it seemed that my connection to Ursula was actually helping me. I’d done, so far, about 13 songs, one jazz piece (six minutes), and one classical piece (12 minutes). But the great thing about it was that I was pleased with the music. I think Ursula knew that and she was kind of trying to get in my pants—and, if that was the case, she knew what she was doing. The best way for anybody to get in my pants was to take an interest in my creations—I’m not saying all the time or everything—just enough to understand them enough to like them and want to engage with them from time to time. I wanted them to see me the way I see me. That was how you got into my pants—and it was the best chance that I’d fall in love and overcome my condition.
You might think, then: “You require brown-nosing.” And I did, in some ways—but I didn’t think of it as brown-nosing, since, as it happens, nobody ever had to brown-nose me to get me to like them or be interested in love. It was just the fastest way. I’d still get there—and, even if you did flatter me, it wouldn’t be brown-nosing, it would be an appreciation for what I am and what i can do. Brown-nosing for love would involve overdoing it—such that other people might read your conceit and think less of the both of us. That would’ve been bad. I am queer, however, which, in my mind, basically means I’m interested in something besides the missionary position, (I’m only kidding a little bit) and so, well, you didn’t have to brown-nose, but you had to do pretty much everything else.
you can skate all you want now, i don’t know what she meant by that. What did the word “skate” mean in that context? When I thought of the word I thought of someone that was getting away with something—so, well, I guess Ursula was flirting with me, saying that I could get away with things. Interesting. Now, I wondered: “Do you want me to attend your speeches and your rallies?” Once per speech. That was cool; I’d go and listen to her speech. I just didn’t have the time or the interest in surrounding myself with a crowd. But every now and then would have been ok. Nevertheless, as I plotted all this out—getting at the nitty gritty details of what could make or break a relationship, i.e., considering some important details, I had to ask: “How tall are you Ursula?” It seemed that short women were the ones that were predominantly attracted to me, overall, but, then again, I’d spent time with women that I didn’t consider “short” and they were at least temporarily attracted to me.
So what kind of height factor were we talking about? Well, I could tell that Ursula was shorter than she might’ve looked on TV or when she was standing off by herself, but she was tall enough for me—I didn’t consider her “short” and, even if I did, I would’ve gotten used to it until I fell in love with it and never wanted to lose it once the being “in” love part kicked in; height wasn’t a dealbreaker, especially if you had other things going for you or you just “rolled” with it. Height really only became a problem when you didn’t like yourself, when you didn’t accept it, and make it something that applied to your character, as opposed to point out impediments to the love that was developing between you—impediments that you forced people to judge. It was kind of like having a chip on your shoulder. A lot of short people did. But a lot of short people didn’t, and that in and of itself was impressive, effectively cancelling the short part out. You take me, for example. I have a larger head than average, which might be a problem if I didn’t embrace it and tried to do anything and everything but be smart and lead. Then it became, in my opinion, the source of greater and greater power.
you’ve got it all figured out cool, groovy, even. “How do you feel right now? What are you doing?” Stuff like that probably wasn’t quite charged enough to penetrate or avoid white noise, but you had to give it a try. I saw her in blue jeans—too casual for me, in part, because of my condition, but I imagined that to mean that she was in the office or something because, for her, I imagined, life in the office was where she felt the most casual, and life outside the job was when she really had to wear a suit. that’s when all the djinns begin to speak up and demand that you account for all the people that dump their back when they get high following you. Now, what was I? Some crazed white man scrawling all over Ursula’s brain? I didn’t think so, since, a) I was sober, and b) she didn’t tune me out; if anything, she tuned me in. that, i think, is why social media was so important to her—more important, perhaps, than she’d care to admit, but, i’m sure that, in part, was because, technically, she was kind of a creator—reaching out to non-followers, and, perhaps, the perfect man (if she wasn’t with him already, of course, but, well, i think she either wanted more or less, I couldn’t say which).