Bonkers

One of the joys of being a sentient being –

(Don’t worry, I had to look up ‘sentient’ too. My brain said “Do you mean sediment?” and I said “No, brain. I mean alive and thinking and having consciousness and the ability to understand and comprehend” and my brain said “You know, sediment is dirt” and then I said “No, you idiot. Sentient. SENTIENT!” and my brain was like “Ah. I’ve got you now… Sediment.”)

– is that we are continually adapting our thoughts and ideas in response to the constant influx of new information thrust at us every day.

We prod and poke and nurture these thoughts until eventually – sometimes a long time after their conception – a resolution of sorts is obtained. The idea or thought can then be laid on top of the layers upon layers of other ideas and thoughts that have come to rest in the recesses of our mind. You know, like sediment. Brain sediment.

Hold on for a second…

Me: Brain, seriously, you’re such a fucker. Just let me write what I want to write. What’s with this sediment bulllshit?

Brain: Brian? Who’s Brian?

Me: Stop it. I said brain. You know I said brain. Anyway, we don’t know anyone called Brian.

Brain: We might know a Brian. How many people have you ever met that you weren’t properly introduced to? Loads, probably. One of them could have been a Brian.

Me: I don’t think meeting someone qualifies as knowing them.

Brain: But you would know them better than you would if you had never met them, wouldn’t you? Let’s say that never having had met someone puts your knowledge of that person at zero. If you meet someone – even just once – your knowledge of that person would naturally increase from zero on the knowing-someone scale to something greater than zero, so in that sense you could say that you do know someone you’ve only met once because your knowledge of them is greater than if you had never met them at all.

Me: Interesting point… but I’m not sold. I mean, if I met Tori Spelling once could I say I know her?

Brain: Tori Spelling?

Me: I don’t know where that came from. Okay, lets say.. umm.. I feel like you’re going to judge me now if I don’t say a celebrity who is cool enough.

Brain: Steve, I would never judge us.

Me: You’re such an asshole.

Brain: There, there. Don’t get upset. Shh, don’t cry now.

Me: Stop.

Brain: Don’t cry…

Me: *blank stare*

Brain: Don’t cry for me SEDIMENTINAAAA!!

Me: I hate you. Why do you do this?! I’ve totally forgotten what I was writing about now.

Brain: And convinced anyone reading this that you’re a complete weirdo?

Me: I think so.

Brain: Just say it’s a stream of consciousness type thing. You can do anything bonkers and get away with it if you say that it’s stream of consciousness.

Me: With you involved I’d say it’s more of a flood-of-epic-fucking-proportions of consciousness.

Brain: Hey. Watch it. I’m the funny one.

Me: YOU ARE ME. I AM YOU. WE ARE ONE.

Brain: I don’t think so. For starters, I don’t want to fuck Tori Spelling.

Me: Me neither!

Brain: Coulda fooled me.

Me: ARGH!

 

I give up. It’s probably best you move along.

 

 

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