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?