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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon Who Fights The Brain
Damn. I just lost a long entry in which I was telling you about a dream I had about The Good Professor, and about a fight I had with The Brain over the spelling of a word and, its having lost, is now sulking and filling the head with scenarios designed to torture me. You do have these little fights with your Brain, too, don't you? It was Soph who clued me in to the fact that it was The Brain's fault, the Life not going the way that we had always planned for it to. I had always thought I had something to do with it, but Soph explained to me very patiently, as one would to a child, that "You should always do the opposite of what The Brain tells you to do." That's her motto anyway. Me? I just try to keep The Brain supplied with enough glucose and educational television to make it leave me alone most of the time. And already, I'm back to telling lies. I don't even own a television. And glucose? Well, you can drink it straight from the bottle, but I prefer it with a bit of Bombay Sapphire and a squeeze of lime. We're on the way to the gym, Max and I, and I don't particularly want to go. My hips and butt are very sore today from the leg-presses I did yesterday. I'd take a day off, but Max is in that New Year's Resolution Frenzy, which means that he'll train until he overtrains or hurts himself (which should take a few weeks at most) and then we'll once again resume our regularly scheduled training session. Until then, I just drag my sore ass and sulky Brain to the gym and do as little as possible on interim days. (That is, I do a few miles on the stationary recumbent bike while leafing through old copies of People Magazine and Harper's Bazaar.) I'm tired, people. And The Brain is Not Cooperating.
More lies:
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