how is that?  “what?”  you’ve no chance of meeting a celebrity—why do you think you’ll meet me?  i’m virtually a celebrity.  “I don’t think that.”  Glad you’re out of reach, honestly.  my papers will never be read; i have to jump through too many hoops.  That was intoned for Anna.      Mr. Speaker: greetings.  […]

     Crushed—okay, maybe just cut down a size, but I plan to make it up to you.  That was mostly my internal narrator—who i won’t necessarily italicize or quote since that voice runs on autopilot—perhaps controlled by outside forces or even just one person but done in such a way that i can’t tell the

     i just always sent her pictures of my paintings.  that was my response to Anna Karenina when I told her I was also talking to a math person, who happened to be from the future.  Did Anna Karenina have any reason to be jealous?  Technically, I was asexual, so i could have partnered with

     The path to asylum, and a drug free community, is inadequate.  If you want tan skin, then let the Latine do their thing—and, in so doing, raise a happy family.  If, then, we should intermarry (which is inevitable) we shan’t need to go to the tanning bed anymore, right?       Anna did not appear

     this wasn’t what i expected   somebody said in my voice; that might’ve meant that Anna Karenina was projecting her neutral shield—her natural voice, and, in so doing, she was planting thoughts in my head, thoughts that might help me move in a positive direction.  but it could’ve been somebody else doing the same thing. 

     It occurred to me that, in the future, I cast a shadow, Anna said; i couldn’t argue with that, but I also knew that representatives of congress come and go; so Anna Karenina, i think, might have hijacked Anna’s channel.  But then it occurred to me that Anna and or Anna Karenina were unhappy

    “I’m not there yet,” I said, although I heard it first, and it sounded like Anna’s voice.  If, by “there,” we meant prepared for each other’s company, then I had to agree:  That doesn’t mean it’s over.  But what was that?  What was not over—or over?  The presidency?  Should i even run   and I

     “Was that a red flag?” i asked.  You, me, and three’s company   “so where do we go from here?”  I was getting better at sounding my thoughts in my natural voice as opposed to the sound of my internal narrator—which I was certainly a function of, but which, at some point, was more like

     I did that, and I still gained a pound!  Oh well.  That’s my hat.  give it back to me.  I usually don’t wear hats unless I’m mowing the grass—guess I might if I lost all the hair on top of my head, but that hadn’t happened yet.      The voice sounded kind of like

     I went to an art show and ate all this food: I was coming down.  I had to try a little harder to get Anna Karenina’s voice right in my head when I was using my shield.  All too often, it sounded as if I was using my natural voice alone—which was my default