So I was basically just writing a math book at this point—everything you needed to know (and how you knew it) to prove that the Riemann hypothesis was true.  That meant, at times, it felt a little tedious, since I wasn’t doing anything new; but it was new to me—so it still kept me going for a couple hours a day, which, if you think about it, and you do it almost every day, is enough (probably) to accomplish your goals.  You also had to let things sink in if the material you were reading was kind of compacted, so, at times, it was best not to work more than two hours.  You’d risk getting ahead of yourself and forgetting everything much faster than you normally might.

    do you think you can keep up with me?  Well, no, actually, I don’t think I can; but that doesn’t mean i won’t try, and, if I can’t, i promise I won’t hold you back.  Ursula had this way of asking questions that she thought you might want to ask her; so she tricked me, a little.  My answer might’ve made her think that I wouldn’t wait for her; that I’d go on changing in some other direction without filling her in.  But i wouldn’t do that—and I was waiting for her right now, as she must’ve known, so I think she was being a little insecure.  A little insecurity is endearing; it’s as if people want to trust you, as if they believe in you.  But a lot of insecurity made the equations too heavy—there had to be a better way, and, often enough, there was.  But I knew that Ursula was only a little insecure—she couldn’t be the rising star that she is without having loads of confidence.

    No show  but I was here, at maximum.  Patience, friend  –  and i was all too pleased.  but my little dog kept passing gas—and, I thought: “How do I even have a dog?”  Ursula needed somebody to look after that dog while she was in DC, and, well, that person, given my work ethic, might not have been me—by choice.  But why was I looking for reasons to split us apart?  Because Ursula might stand in the way of some other aspiring young woman that I might dream into existence?  Because it made me look bad to crush over someone that I had no chance to be with?  But it was like going to heaven, I guess; we were together already, even if we never experienced our physical presence.  Maybe we wouldn’t even be together in heaven—but we could work with each other to probe the unknown and usher in an eventful future, one that prioritized family life—for each of us, no matter who our romantic other turned out to be.

    Get out of here in a hurry, before this whole thing explodes!  What whole thing?  was she feeling the heat?  I was still taking risperidone, so I wasn’t feeling the heat much at all.  But I’d had a couple bowel movements—nothing major, but enough to keep me from turning to bisacodyl.  A lot of constipated material, so, naturally, rather than deal with a toilet that I knew would clog, I was digging it out again, putting it into a plastic bag, and dumping it in the yard.  Hardly an ideal situation—but I needed a doctor’s assistance to get off the risperidone because I’d have to replace it with something else, and, on top of that, I needed something that was going to keep me sleeping correctly, and thinking healthy, noncompromising thoughts (as much as possible).