Nope. I'm talking to the
Dali Lama, to
Gabriel Knight and his
archangel namesake; I'm asking
shamen for the time of day; I'm
counseling Hercules through his
inadequacy complex. Sometimes you can hear me
singing for the
poltergeists in
offices at night, or
arguing with
Lucretius about that ridiculous
Swerve theory. I try not to bother
Jesus--you can't
imagine his
schedule--but sometimes he
talks to me, and
Lucifer's a funny, funny guy...just don't get too
close.
Aliens are hella cool, by the way, and so are
dreaming Rastas. All my
dead relatives and
everybody else's flit through ocassionally to say hi, and then maybe some
extraplanar thingy shows up and
follows me around for a while. I talk to
animals I can't see and
flowers before I'll pick one; I explain everything I know to
everybody I can imagine, all day long, and most of the night.
But I don't
talk to myself. What the fuck is the point of that?