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I wish I could wash my brain

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I wish I could wash my brain

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I feel a bit messy in the head right now.

Maybe I shouldn't have watched that movie about relationship stuff last night.  It may have given me ideas... of the feminine persuasion. The bad kind of femininity - the game-playing kind.

As soon as I stop thinking about my problem, the artificially bloated exaggeration of its importance whistles out of it like air from a balloon that was never properly tied... but at this point it's quadruple-booked on the thought rota, and feeling more and more hypervital and farther and farther from the superannuated status it deserves.

Oh, wouldn't it be nice if you could iron the wrinkles out of the old gray matter and let it settle into whatever new shape it chooses?

I'm going to lie down now and read Clive Barker's Weaveworld for a while; or maybe I'll just think about popsicles until I fall asleep.
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