Troublesome Unfolding of Self

I was halfway prepared to wrangle about the dualism of the mind and body today. I’m aware of a lot of terms which describe the whole of the sum of our parts, or at least some of the parts of our sum. A lot of my boys in apology class have been talking about the cliché angel and devil on the shoulders. The angel gives us good advice, the devil compels us to sin. You know the old saying. No doubt you’ve heard about the wolf on each shoulder also, the good white wolf you should feed and the bad black wolf you shouldn’t feed. These are interesting but simple ideas we’ve all harkened to.

It goes deeper. Apparently there’s a chimp and a computer in our brains too, having the same argument. There’s a book about it. I’ve not gotten around to reading it yet. My head is busy buried in scripture. The chimp is impulsive and instinctive. He wants rewarding and rewarding yesterday. The computer is our rational side. It’s logical and deductive, it weighs up risk and solves our problems. It may be obvious I know about as much on this topic as sweet Fanny Adams does. This is just what I’ve come across in conversations.

If you want more I’d study the regions of the brain. It’s fabulously riveting. I looked into it during my mid-twenties, before I got into sub-atomic affairs. These days I’m content studying the theatrical make-up on pantomime horses. That’s as soon as I get done brooding over other miscellaneous professions such as sword swallowing in the modern circus, zombies in popular media, and underwater bomb disposal in the Navy.

What do we have so far? The angel and the devil. The two wolves. The chimp and the computer. Wow, we missed out the lizard. What, you haven’t heard about the lizard at the back of your brain? Where have you been hiding, under a rock? Believe me, blood, it’s there. Everyone knows about the lizard. I think it’s the oldest part of the brainstem or something. It made me lunge for a barmaid’s bosom in the snooker club. Honestly. I’m always lunging for parts of the female anatomy when high on psychoactive stims. I cannot restrain myself.

I became convinced I’d mutated into a real live salamander once, when wagon driver Wayne poisoned me with a donkey stripe of ketamine in Athena’s Loveshack during the Royal Wedding. It’s common being unable to move, or becoming ‘catatonic’, while under the influence of ketamine. It is a horse tranquiliser after all.

This bit here is real talk homes: I once changed into a baboon on Burger King car park. I was kneeling and crouching and jumping and hopping and beating my chest. Drugs again. No wonder I’ve given them up. Or trying to. So far so good.

Other constituents of ‘the whole’ I appreciate are the personality, the ego, the ID, the persona, the psyche, the soul, the heart, the spirit, the subconscious, the unconscious, the preconscious, the manna, the animus, and the aura, among many others beyond my current knowledge.

The list probably goes on. Still not as gripping as the mystery of missing socks. I found one hanging from my shower rail. Probably a perp.

Hey, qualia is an irreducible mental quality of the mind. Isn’t that an amazing fact? Wonder what it does? Is it the part that momentarily confuses us when confronted by the pickle of a missing sock?

When you tend to be a Targeted Individual, you start to notice a helluva lot more things other than small items of clothing going missing.

Like family members, for example. Or fingers.

Funnily & oddly enough, a repair guy broke my washing machine accidentally on purpose. I know it’s not relevant, but it does qualify as desperately unlucky, in tradition with the rest of this blog.

I’ll not ‘go into’ persecution stories though, coz it’ll depress the pair of us. Oh, just one more then: A perp did invite himself into my garden last spring so as he could paint a pentagram on my birdcage. Goodwill & forgiveness, most probs mentally ill. Aren't they all.