Brain Jar

Just as a word of caution, the following blog post tries to chart the strange brain of Will Davies and is full of accounts of dreams, oddities of perception, and other wildness. It was also mostly composed while the writer was in the thick of final exams and his brain was at the time not fully functioning on a normal plane. Well, enough apologizing for myself, I am what I am.

The way my mind works is sometimes a mystery to me. Most of the time. I had a dream the other night (I dream more when I sleep in beds that aren't my own) where I was exploring a warehouse that had gone out of business. Both floors of the warehouse were filled with junk and treasures and all manner of things, it was really fascinating. Now the thing with my dreams is that when I want to fly, I jump while I'm walking or running and pedal my legs. I don't outright fly, but it takes me a lot longer to reach the ground. The thing with this dream is that when I realize I'm dreaming and I try to fly, I can't do it. That's unusual because I can usually control my lucid dreams.
I've now sketched 36 assorted creatures in my fictional compendium. It's a world that really fascinates me. It's populated by four types of creatures; Fauna, Sentientia, Automata, and Lusus Naturae. There are also combinations of those classifications like F.L., A.S., AL, and interestingly even F.S.. These classifications probably wont hold much meaning without the implications behind them. This is another way in which I do not understand my own mind.

I made it thirteen stanzas into my second epic poem (the first, White Trash and Beardo, is still only around five stanzas) before my inspiration ran dry. This time I was sure to lay out where the poem was going, how it was going to get there, and the major themes before I even started, but I still can go no further for the time being. Perhaps the inspiration will come back on the holidays when I have a bit of time to think. I still don't understand how this inspiration gets ahold of me in the first place and why it leaves just as suddenly.

I can listen to a soaringly beautiful aria and be unmoved, but when I hear the strangled growl of Tom Waits singing about a Prostitutes Christmas Card or the fact that Romeo is Bleeding, it sends shivers down my spine. Someone commented the other night that the music I was listening to was offsetting. It's true, Tom Waits employed a couple of tempo changes in the song that leave the listener disconcerted and confused. The thing was that he was doing it intentionally. I dislike when musicians are not good at what they do and therefore their music is jarring unintentionally. When a musician is so good at what they do that they are able to experiment, look at music from new perspectives and apply different laws to how they play, when they try to evoke certain emotions other than joy or sadness (such as contentment or uneasiness), I appreciate their music. That's a bit of an explanation for my strange musical preferences I guess, something that I've come to terms with, but other people maybe haven't.

That wraps up a peek into my strange physche, and in case you think I'm a crazy person now, just take a look at yourself, normal as you think you are. You probably won't find any of the same stuff, but I guarantee you'll find bits you don't quite understand.

Pipesmokingprofessor