After chronicling our little journey filling out advance directives for the last…six? seven? eight?….weeks, I’m having trouble returning to normal blog-life. Not only does it look like I’ve lost most of my readership and Blogland friends (…there’s that dying topic at work again…) I can’t think of anything else to write about now. Full immersion in a topic will do that to you I guess. Who knew?
So I’ve decided to try a little free-writing to see if I can break the damn.
…whoops. I mean dam. Although on second thought, I probably did mean damn (as in why-am-I-so-blocked!?) down there in my subconscious. But for some reason my conscious mind thought dam was more appropriate.
“Damn?” Conscious Mind glanced up from his newspaper and raised his eyebrows. “A little vulgar, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you.” Subsconscious Mind was used to that kind of bullshit censorship by now. “It was just a play on words.”
Here’s a thought. Maybe…just this once…I should say what my subconscious wants me to say instead? Throw it a crust. A sop.
“A sop?” Subconscious Mind tried to change position in the filth on the stone floor but the chains were tangled. “What a pretentious bitch.”
Conscious Mind folded the paper and set it down on the table, picked up the cattle prod, and stood up.
Who knows? It might actually make it happy. (What a concept. A happy subconscious.) Maybe that’s even the whole problem? My subconscious is sending up messages and I’m not listening.
Conscious Mind stopped, startled, and glanced up at the ceiling.
Am I sitting on something? I should probably do that writing exercise where you write for ten minutes straight without stopping, even if it means just writing the same word over and over again. See if there’s something there.
Subconscious Mind scrambled to his feet and started yelling. “Hey!! Yes! It’s true, man! Listen to yourself!” He yanked the chains in frustration. “I’ve got good shit down here! GREAT shit! Magic swords! Tiger allies! Repentant bankers feeding homeless people! It’s crazy, man! You could turn the world on its ASS!”
Conscious Mind switched on the cattle prod and started forward again.
I feel like I’ve gotten lost up in my head lately…out of my heart. Where did the magic and compassion go anyway? I miss that voice.
‘I can make you FLY, man!! I can make you GLOW!!” Subconscious Mind was screaming and waving his arms frantically at this point. “I CAN HELP YOU FUCKING SLEEP!!!”
Maybe I’d finally get a good night’s sleep? Wake up rested for a change. Fuck! How great would that be?!
Conscious Mind froze and Subconscious Mind held his breath.
Shit! Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Time to start listening to my subconscious again, man! I’ve let my inner critic get completely out of control. What was I thinking?
The cattle prod flew out of Conscious Mind’s hands and he staggered back as if shoved.
I NEED my subconscious…
The shackles snapped open and fell from the wrists of Subconscious Mind. In one swift motion he stooped, picked up a handful of fresh feces, and threw it at Conscious Mind.
…AND my conscious mind to work together!
But the feces missed and splattered against the wall.
Otherwise, I’ll just be writing a bunch of nonsensical shit that doesn’t make any sense and, really, isn’t there enough of that out there already?
They both looked over at the newspaper headline on the jailer’s table, RUSH LIMBAUGH APOLOGIZES, and the tension in the room broke. Subconscious Mind grinned and Conscious Mind relaxed, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
So. If I now go back to the original sentence that started this whole thing:
So I’ve decided to try a little free-writing to see if I can break the damn.
…which word would I really rather use? Dam or damn?
Conscious Mind walked over and unlocked the massive timber door, swinging it back on it’s iron hinges. He stepped back and gestured for Subconscious Mind to pass through. Sub took one last look at his corner then walked out, clapping his shit smeared hand on Conscious’s shoulder and wiping it across the front of his white shirt as he passed.
Okay then. Damn it is.
copyright Dia Osborn 2012
Epiloque:
Con paused briefly and shook his head as the pungent fumes wafted up from his chest. He chuckled and grabbed the cattle prod.
“Hey, Sub! Wait up,” he called, taking the steps two at a time. “You forgot something.”
But in the final draft, it would probably have to be dam.
The Odd and Unmentionable 
