Who did i want to talk to now? What happened to McCord? Actually, nothing happened to McCord, which is why we aren’t talking about him. Sure—he expressed his love for me by taking on the form of Eva Braun, but i don’t think he liked it, and, basically, although i wasn’t losing interest in men, specifically, i was focused on this strange combination of AOC and Alex, which, I dare say, existed in a hyperdimensional realm in which it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference, since, as we’ve discussed, AOC can talk through me or even around me to Alex. Thus, AOC wasn’t just a manifestation of the parts of me that I vetoed as the periods of my life unfolded, but, to be clear, she was talking to other people (like Alex) which meant that she was becoming a real person.
Now, I’d skipped my Dr. Pepper today—for this session, to keep everybody honest, and I wasn’t getting much of a response to my calls. I was getting the basic stuff all over again: who are you? What do you want from me? etc., so we were there, and we shared a line, but we didn’t seem to know each other as well as we might otherwise have. I answered that I’m a fan, first and foremost, but that, after that, I was interested in developing a relationship across time—one that would last indefinitely.
We can do that (AOC) and now you’re pleased? (Alex). As someone that, at different times in her life, has been overweight, i cut Alex some slack. She’d find herself, and, when she did (perhaps through the presidency, or at least, in running for president) she’d lose the weight that, apparently, in the past year, she’d picked up. I’d posed the question, then, if this writing were doing anything to alienate Alex—as if, in the future, she’d read it, and, at that moment in time, withdraw her support back here.
AOC said, then, that’s how i want it and, honestly, AOC was my orphan, so what she thought would override what Alex thought—even if that meant that AOC and I would take our leave. But then Alex said: if you want it like that, then that’s fine so, Alex must have been keeping herself separate from my writing—she didn’t have to like it, although it might help a little if she did.
i’m intent on building something (AOC) i repeated the comment in what sounded like middle English, then I heard this in Alex’s voice: “i’m out of here” and “get out of here.” So what was happening? i’ll tell you something secret but was she talking to me or her boyfriend? I imagined that, after all this time, she and her live-in lover didn’t have many secrets. But there were plenty of things i didn’t want to talk about with her—so I figured she might’ve been talking to me? i don’t really know. but my job, as a writer, was to explore the fourth dimension of prose, and that, friend, was what I aimed to do. give me that! a microphone? my laptop? my heart and soul?
don’t talk about me like that! like what? like everything you do or say is public knowledge? I admit, when I was discovering that I was different—that I could sense things from the hyperspace, the fact that i couldn’t keep a lot of things to myself was infuriating. But that was mainly because the people that were abusing me had convinced me that they wouldn’t be watching me if they didn’t love me.