I have an alternate identity. He’s rich. Apparently, he won the lottery. As I go about my business, checking on how to apply for disability, coming back home to my little studio apartment, I vividly imagine in my mind’s eye a large, lovely apartment, with lots of light pouring in. I am thinking about what guests I plan on having over that evening. It feels incredibly real to me. It seems as though some terrible mistake has been made. I shouldn’t be shuffling about, worrying about losing my apartment. I ought not to be taking trips over to the horrendous hall of doom, better known as the San Francisco social services center. Actually I don’t know what it is called, everybody just says “that place on Mission”. Everyone knows the place. Pretty much everyone has been there. Perhaps my other self is just an escape from the daily struggle. But maybe not.
It could very well be a premonition. That would be nice! Any day my shit will come in. Ooops! I meant to say ship. Me and half a million other people, actually more, share this dream. But that isn’t the direction I wanted to take with this post. I assert that this other Russell is Rich, and very real. He will either emerge over time, or he exists in some other universe. Being rich and successful just comes naturally to me. I am not well equipped for poverty. My talents demand a suitable set of circumstances. I can’t be bothered with the pesky details of day to day survival. I need the time and space to give my soul free reign. I also need to be able to give to my friends. I would love to lift them out of their need to struggle to live. Poverty kills the spirit. It stifles all it touches.
This is my declaration. That I am rich, and in the course of time the circumstances will align with this declaration. It’s bound to happen! Doubts will persist, but these are mere pebbles in my shoe, as I walk resolutely toward my abundance. No more referring to ‘dreams’, this is how it will be. I refuse to allow poverty to rule my life, or the lives of my friends!
When you think of me, think of a successful, talented man sitting in a nice apartment in San Francisco, without a care in the world.