not that i don’t long for sweet release, but you’re miles a away from me—both literally and metaphorically. What do i expect? That you’ll take on my characteristics, my habits, my dreams, and make me feel like I’m a real woman? Maybe you can’t do that—that’s all I’m saying, in which case, or, that is to say, because of that, I think this interview might be a bad idea. I’m your friend, however, and, you can think of me as a psychiatrist: prescribing you all the necessary feel good chemicals that float around in our brain, and, as I see it, making you famous beyond what you might’ve, heretofore, imagined.
You look at me (in my mind’s eye) i feel that we’re getting closer, and yet my interest in sex remains inconsequential, which is good, i think, because, otherwise, it would be a distraction, an impediment, but it only leaves me wondering: yes you’ve captured my imagination, but am i in love with you—or do i want to be you? Or did i just want you to be the president really, really bad? At this distance I suppose i’m perfectly okay, but i have to ask: what happens when (as ever) i feel no desire—not for you or anyone else?
Am I that lonely that i would put someone into my life as a lover and then turn a different way and tell them that, all i wanted, all along, was to be friends? It’s no good meeting people on the internet—everybody tries to hide the fact that they’re overweight—and what about me? I could lose ten pounds i think—but I don’t know how that’s going to happen unless i stop eating so much. Like any overweight person, i’ve my appetites, a constant hunger, a constant desire? to go to heaven and make a mark there. i want to be remembered for all time as the woman that took on the both the Mormon church and anybody i could find in the state of North Carolina and died trying.
You didn’t just die—you completely fell apart; i blame this administration, all this, what we’re seeing right now, on the “me, too,” movement (where women spoke out about their bad experiences with men) which, apparently, left many a person puzzled and confused. Everything, these days, is a rebound from some wrong doing perpetrated by those that should’ve known better a long time ago. Perhaps, from one side, the apparent side, of the argument, you reach a point where you’re afraid to do or say anything for fear that someone will say you’re being a jerk and write you off in front of everybody that you associate with. But enough of that—this, also, is kickback from the fact that we had a black president that blurred the boundaries between the upper and underclasses.
But what now, about my sweet? She’ll go on doing her thing, although it appears, somehow, that she mightn’t get elected—and yet it also appears that she might, depending, mainly, on whether the democratic party wants another white man in office—which, at this point, they might see as a setback; you don’t love me at all i wasn’t going to argue with her because i think she was talking to somebody else, and sending that information back to me: that meant one of two things: one: she was talking to her boyfriend and allowing that to sink in, or: two: she was using my voice to communicate with me. She didn’t know what my voice sounded like, so she must have been thinking that her boyfriend didn’t love her—and or she was saying that to her boyfriend such that, when she was alone with her thoughts, she would repeat these words over and over in her mind until they arrived at the person she was supposed to be with, and, because of her circumstances, she might have felt insecure.
Well, we had to do something about that because the American people go looking for weakness—they don’t, as most people do, hold their breath and come up for air a little at a time. They seek to sniff you out and then hold it against you when they discover that you’re human. generally that’s an area that we try to avoid . . . and then, “We’re only human,” as if that was some kind of self-defense for what she was about to do—i don’t know what that was but i didn’t get the impression that she would cheat which is probably the exact impression you get from people that would—if, that is, they didn’t feel that they were loved as much as they deserved—if their ideas of themselves did not match up with the attention they were getting at home.
a wild goose chase? possibly, “but consider this from my perspective,” so i did. “What would an affair do to your career?” that was the ultimate question that had to be asked before anything, such as an affair, could take place. but the whole point of an affair is that you realize, or think, that you’re being taken for granted, or, that is to say, somehow there’s no longer any love between you—just convenience; so you might wonder, then: why don’t you get out of the relationship first and the answer to that is that you don’t know if you really deserve something better until you’ve tried it out—so, if i had to guess what was going to happen, i’d say that we were going to end up in an affair—it was inevitable, which somehow made things sound less human, but, in fact, nobody knows what goes on between two people but them, and you shouldn’t have to explain yourself.