I was backing off painting a little: for the past three months or so i’d been cranking out two paintings a day, which is a lot by any standard. In fact, one painting a day put me ahead, given a good lifespan, of most of my esteemed colleagues, and, because I was entertaining a lot of math and physics ideas—as well as my imaginations on how eternal life might work—I saw no reason not to settle down a little. I certainly didn’t want to burn out, which was unlikely, but possible, if, that is, i didn’t listen to how things were, and should, naturally take shape. The bottom line was: what else am i going to do? I’d burn out on something else if i didn’t spend part of my day painting, and i’d burn out on painting if i neglected the thoughts that were coming to the surface, and being formulated in this my writing. Because of all the physics questions of late, i’d also backed away from composing music and songs; composing music was cool, when I had the time, and if I stuck with it, a little at a time, consistently, i could still produce a decent amount of work, if that turned out to be important to me, but it wasn’t, in my mind, the most useful way for me to express myself—however so much it might be, in the future.
I wanted to pursue the songwriting however, as I thought my poetry should find itself naturally expressed with musical accompaniment, and it, too, would help draw attention to my general poetry from people that might not otherwise do much reading. So i was planning on getting back to that, even if, for the time being, i was a little intimidated about recording an acceptable version of what turned out to be a pretty traditional ballad—even if the lyrics themselves did not necessarily tell a story. So i was looking forward to getting that back on track, even if i’d already produced sixteen songs in a relatively short amount of time, and, for me, being on track might’ve meant, at least compared to that output, a little more than was really necessary. But I had some catching up to do, i figured, if i wanted to compete with other songwriters, so maybe not. In any event, songwriting was still taking a backseat to my physics questions and my 5D questions—both of which were being answered, but it was taking some time. That, ultimately, was not going to change, as i found my deepest satisfaction when these questions were answered—and painting had always been, and would continue to be, one of the main things I identified myself with; keeping up my painting, to me, was more important than trying to produce more songs than most songwriters ever would. Instead, my focus was on producing as many or more paintings than my esteemed colleagues did, people that, for the most part, dedicated themselves entirely to painting.
I’m four stanzas in to the next eight stanzas of “Chevy Chase,” so things are progressing as well as I might expect. I nevertheless was projecting my math uncle’s voice, and, do tell, i was bombarded with physics and math questions this morning, questions that, indeed, have driven me to increase the amount of antipsychotic i am taking. Today has been riddled with such questions, and, because of that, i didn’t get out to paint, yet again, which is okay, considering that i have been doing two paintings a day, but, at the same time, i’m meant to paint every day, i think, so these questions, ultimately, need to be limited to a portion of the day that does not bleed into my painting time. I already spend a lot of time thinking about these things, and, frankly, when it bleeds into my painting time, it’s too much. So, as I see it, I’m still working to get my math uncle’s questions under control; for whatever reasons, he seems to dump his back a little more than everybody else. I say that because his questions tend to drive me up the wall, and can’t seem to wait, if, that is, he, indeed, is posing most of the questions, which, by definition and association, he seems to be.
Now, that is not to say that my future colleague is not also heavily into physics and math; he very well could be. but i’ve associated him with a lot of writing, such that, well, his physics and math questions would seem to be a little more spaced out—mixed up with eternal life and 5D life questions, which, actually, can sometimes be more satisfying than the kind of physics and math questions i am often asked, questions that do not necessarily relate, at least not immediately, to my work, but that, nevertheless, carry a comparable weight, if not a disproportionate weight. I’ve spent a lot of time, recently, for example, on trying to understand Fourier transforms, which is all well and good, but doesn’t necessarily apply to anything i am currently working on. Therefore it shouldn’t drive me up the wall—it shouldn’t seem or be every bit as important as the things I am actually working on. It should take a backseat—and be spaced out, little by little, over the course of several days, instead of attacking me all at once, and making me highly uncomfortable. I attribute these kinds of questions to my math uncle, who’s voice i will use again tomorrow, nonetheless, but who is being, needs to be, and will continue to be disciplined, such that, if he is dumping his back, which he seems to be, he will, for our own good, his as well as mine, be forced to change his life, if, that is, he wants to continue to talk to me. Otherwise I will adjust, and imagine some other mathematical address, one that treats himself with a little more patience and respect.
Now, there’s one other problem, of late. Getting off the risperidone, in addition to the extra TV i have been watching, seems to be agitating me, leaving me in a state of sexual desire that, frankly, shouldn’t be so prevalent without a partner to inspire me. I’m not feeling inspired—i’m feeling agitated, and uncomfortable. So, I’m hoping that turning down the Wellbutrin and adding a milligram of risperidone back into my routine will correct the problem, without turning me off completely, as the changes build up in my system. It is simply highly disagreeable to feel sexual desire on a regular basis when there is no external reason to feel it; and, since i didn’t feel this way when I was taking my risperidone in full, it seems that, whereas the risperidone, in full, turned me off completely, which is unacceptable, ultimately, perhaps, then, a little, in combination with the Latuda, will yield a proper balance. But yes, this agitation—this nightly discomfort, is getting out of hand.
Now, you might pose the question: don’t you want to backchannel with those connections, in your life, that are sexually active? But there’s no reason the information i exchange with them has to be delivered in a lump sum, which is exactly what sexual activity seems to do. I can still read the messages they send out—and parse them out over my day, while at the same time sending out comparable frequencies, parsed out, such that, when aligned, or addressed cumulatively, amount to the same effect. So yes, tuning into those frequencies, themselves, delivered through sexual activity, through sexual activity, from time to time, is desirable, and needs to be achievable. But once those frequencies are established, you don’t need to reproduce them, every time, in the form of sexual activity. Once you know what they are, for the most part, you’re close enough to communicate; those frequencies simply don’t change enough to require constant sexual activity.