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).

     Shame on you!  You mentioned me!  Well, i’d just figured out that an italic sentence should be punctuated with an italics punctuation mark, but, you know what?  Screw that—I wasn’t going back to fix it; so I tell myself, I’m a painter, and it’s important to me to show a little of the process in the finished piece—such as well, how you don’t care sometimes if something looks unfinished or a little daring.  I know, though, who do I think I am?  That I can play fast and loose with the laws of the English language?  But anyhow—what did she expect?  That I’d never mention this person, when, after all, I projected that voice on a daily basis?  But I know what she was getting at.  I was only going to make myself look crazy, or, possibly, I was going a little crazy, because I should know better than to joke about something in the hope that once people get used to the joke it will feel normal to them and then you can get away with things for real.

this is horse-shit, my father said, also known as Mozart.  I’d been working on a classical piece—violin, cello, and piano—but I don’t think he was talking about that.  I think he was talking about my country and how everybody was forced to spend so much time separated from their families because they had to work all the time.  Now, you know what you want, Ursula said, and, indeed, I still wanted her.  I had my fingers crossed that I’d get my sexual dysfunction fixed, and, when I did, I was sure that my confidence would get a boost, and, then, well, I’d be ready for whoever the real person behind Ursula the politician was: (It was becoming increasingly apparent that I’d never be with Ursula the politician, but I intended to stick with her).  So what did the person behind Ursula look like?  Given my hatred for random blond idiots, she was probably blond—since we’re often attracted to what we have a beef with.

     what are you cooking up now?  then my pot smoker friend said something, but I couldn’t understand him.  then he said, now.  As if, at this time of my life, everything about me was beginning right now.  Someone unknown said, “i’m trying to stave off disaster,” and it sounded kind of like my default narrator.  Now you’re going to try this, my pot smoker friend said  –  and I’m going tell you I revolutionized pottery, my smoker friend said.  I didn’t really care.  I didn’t really care about them—or anything they were saying, at least not in this moment, except for me, and I was a little irked by me because he refused to let me function with a decent level of dopamine and testosterone in my body.  I got a whiff of the other side, last night, though, as I forgot to take my medicine, and I woke up, unable to get back to sleep, keeping time with my foot, and wondering what was going on.  Around 5 I got up to take my morning meds, and I saw that I hadn’t taken my evening meds, so i took half of them, went back to bed for an hour, and felt fine.