I want to be in harmony with the universe like you  i told her, then, that, “i’m anxious when i’m not doing anything,” which, for the most part, is true.  I only achieve happiness when, overall, the waves i produce while and from actively creating something are at play.  Furthermore, part of the reason that I create so many things is that, to be blunt, there isn’t a whole lot out there that i like to read—or even watch on TV.  So, no, I’m not in harmony with the universe all the time—or, if I am, it happens globally; i, in this life, in this form, still experience anxiety, yearning, the blues, etc.  I do incorporate that into my work, and, in so doing, find harmony, but when I’m not doing that, or I’m at an impasse, i feel no small degree of anxiety and or boredom.

     Well you’ve been here a long time, and you’re going to be here a long time still  that was what i wanted, of course—to get as much out of this life as I possibly could because what we do in this life enhances our eternal life.  But that also seemed to mean that I would be on my own for a long time yet, which was fine, i guess, considering that Ursula might still be very young, or, as the case may be, unable to provide a life for us, which she’d have to do, since, as it happens, anonymity is all that i can foresee for years to come.  Does that make me angry?  It comes and goes—the people, and the civilization—that I’m surrounded by don’t live up to my expectations, and, I think, are from a different time.  A time in which white people still seem to think that they deserve better than minorities—and a time in which rich white people think that poor white people are trash.

     “What are you thinking?” I asked.  I’m thinking about gerrymandering.  I was hearing some other voice after Ursula said this (in Anna’s voice—i think they both said this, as I didn’t get the distinct impression that this came solely from Anna).  I don’t know about this voice—where it’s coming from, whether I can reproduce it or not, et cetera.  It could be Ursula’s actual voice, guess, but it was a little too random for me to replace the mechanism i was using.  I tried, for a while, to associate the voice of my Norway blond with Ursula—it’s an unknown voice that i can reproduce, but then I went back to Anna’s voice, thinking, at that time, that time apart was unnecessary.  But that wasn’t the voice I heard—anyhow, time would tell.  If i kept hearing this voice, then perhaps I was on to something new; but, for now, I thought it best to stick with Anna’s voice—the voice I’ve been using to talk to Ursula all along. 

     Nen, nen, nin, non, non, nun . . . my counting mechanism—designed to keep me in tune with the divine.  Replacing my voice—for this hour, or so—with Ursula’s voice.  But hey, I wasn’t feeling great—thinking i had a little fever, yesterday, and still, somewhat, today—after a restless night, and this feeling that Latuda somehow multiplies the effect of caffeine.  For the time being I’m Dr. Pepper free, since I’m already feeling a little jittery and weak, partly from the fever, i guess, but partly, too, as if I drank to much caffeine.  Changing medications is turning out to be kind of hairy, and I’m thinking i might go back to taking the trazadone (the sleep aid) every night—just like i was, sexual side effects be damned.  Those sexual side effects weren’t like the effect I was getting from tamsulosin, escitalopram, and risperidone, and so I figured it was worth it.  After all—let’s keep it real—I’m not married, and, even if I was, frankly, some sexual dysfunction was kind of irrelevant when compared to my overall well-being.  I wasn’t, and I might likely never be, sexually active again.

     But we’ll get there soon enough—i can’t help thinking, exhausted by these transformations, of all that i’ve been given, and all that I have to be thankful for.  Considering, too, that I choose to believe, it won’t come as a surprise, when, maybe in this life, maybe not, i’m connected with the woman of my dreams—my very own Ursula, that, as a believer, i speak to, little by little, in every way.  You might say, of late, that I’ve pushed my love to the limits—and, in so doing, i’ve driven myself down, a little, into the dumps, considering that i might never get over this impotence—this desire for something that I cannot realize in a physical way.  You might say it’s pretty fucking rough, at times, considering that I want to be ready for a potential mate—someone that could be—would be, my Ursula, if, that is, I could convince her to stay.  That I might feel excruciating desire for someone that I can’t physically express—and that, because of that, true love, in this life, cannot emerge.