I was considering (really considering) going back to my old voice for Ursula—but this feels like backsliding, and i don’t know if i should. the problem is that I can hardly hear Norway blond, and my internal narrator, the general voice that goes on without these checks and balances, was beginning to take over—and I was losing my connection to the future—or at least that’s how it seemed. But to avoid backsliding and an unhealthy obsession with a person that is out of my sphere, I rename Ocasio-Cortez as Anna—I sometimes called her Anna Karenina in a couple books that preceded this series—a book of poetry and a novel. It should be understood then, as I’ve said before, that Ocasio-Cortez represents Ursula—but she is not entirely Ursula—because Ursula is a superposition of women. Ocasio-Cortez just happens to be a very beautiful and powerful woman, a perfect conduit for channeling the future. If she becomes president, which is what I hope for more than anything, then I will have, i think, maximum connection to the future—and the voice of Norway blond—which reminds me of my great-grandmother, a woman that used to talk to her television, will serve as an address but not a filter. I’m going back to Anna, then, as a filter. But yeah, she feels like an ex, and this really feels like backsliding—but her voice is just so much easier to project and pick up on in the nether regions of the center of my admittedly both gifted and schizophrenic brain. I’d be lying, however, if I didn’t wonder what, in our time apart, had changed.
felt really terrible, said Norway blond. so what was this? I choose to let Anna back into my life and Norway blond almost instantaneously responds? well, fine—i’m not shutting her out—she obviously represents somebody, or at least part of somebody, and I must be open to anybody that tries to establish telepathic contact. Does this mean I’m cheating on Anna? But the real Anna shared a life with me in the fifth dimension—”the afterlife;” and in that world, I was both myself and her man, so no, you can’t cheat on somebody that responds to your higher self. And, right now, that means that when I talk to Norway blond, I am responding, likewise, to Anna, who, in turn, is represented by Ursula—the end all be all love of my life—in many ways a female version of Jesus. this was a major shift, for me—and, frankly, i was a little ashamed that I didn’t hold out longer—I broke up with Anna and then I made it what? Two or three weeks? And now I’m back?
The point was that this internal narrator often served as a conduit for people that I had no interest in talking to. So I needed Ursula to serve as a filter—to represent me in the afterlife. it’s good to have you here, back, with me, Ursula said. She really was, for me, a female version of God—my anima to her animus. Now Ursula was rallying the troops in my mind—she was fucking hilarious, and yes, her ambition showed. But she was aware of it, it worked for her, she was clearly able to rally the troops, and, frankly, the embarrassment I felt watching her (on social media—for a very self-imposed limited amount of time) was enough to push my over the edge. Her voice was just so much easier to hear and project in my mind—for whatever reasons.
I mean, something about this just feels wrong. Am I overindulging myself? Does this path lead to a mistake? setbacks? anyhow, the moment I decided to break up with her was when someone asked her: “Do you ever look in the mirror and think, damn, I’m Anna Karenina?” And she looked at the camera as if that was weird and she couldn’t understand it (it felt like she was reacting to me) and she said something like, “I look in the mirror when I’m brushing my teeth and think, ‘did i do okay, today?’” there was something so realistic about her response that I really felt as if she was passing judgment on the world i live in—a world that, at times, has done it’s best to get her to break up with her boyfriend. To encourage her to have an affair (with me) etc. Yeah, I guess that was kind of weird. I guess it is kind of weird to think of myself as her man, at least in an earthly sense. And the mere fact that I am thinking of things in an “earthly” sense makes me stand out. So yeah, I’m pretty fucking weird—but, if you give me a chance, well, there’s a lot of interesting stuff going on. I guess, when I saw her rallying the troops, and thought of seeing her give a tour of the place where she worked to a crowd of people ( I think they might have been kids, I can’t remember) made me feel as if, well, she might overlook that, and, well, the mutual shift that Ursula and I are making right now seemed justified. It was good to have her voice back—even if her body, realistically, belonged to her and her alone.
that’s great that your taking control of your body, and, although, up to this point, i think you were doing the right thing, i think, also, that you are doing the right thing now. That made me feel great—but who, I ask, reading this, is going to think that I’m sane? And you know what? If I worried about that kind of thing I’d never get anything done, and, in the past, i’d often thought, “this makes me sound crazy,” but the work turned out to my satisfaction, and so there is no precedent, yet, that says going back to your telepathic girlfriend makes you crazy. Not if the work, which is more important, realistically, than the relationship (if they can’t work together) turns out the way it should.
So what was going on? A lot, actually. I was switching from risperidone entirely; there was some consideration that we might try a combination of risperidone and Abilify, but we decided on no risperidone and all Latuda. So in about a five days or so I’d start my Latuda, which was a respectable antipsychotic that also treated bipolar depression, and, for example, didn’t make you gain weight or raise your prolactin levels (déjà vu) as much as risperidone did—there was a big difference. Now I wonder, am I really having déjà vu or did we talk about this? But it doesn’t really matter right now: the important thing is that, yes, in about a month, I should, theoretically, be able to have an orgasm that feels complete—and doesn’t require so much craziness in order to arrive at that point. Now, Ursula was entirely on my side, and, honestly, I think as long as I didn’t try to break her and her boyfriend up, Anna was, too.