Loss is something that is unavoidable in life. It can leave a lasting effect on individuals. Sometimes, however, the loss of something can be of great benefit. The Mind was in a state of dismay but the Brain seemed to be thriving. The Subconscious could only moan.
Part The Fourth: Revenge of the Duckling-Spotted Underwear
The loss of the duckling-spotted underwear affected the Mind deeply. This, in turn, affected the Brain. It was around this time that the Brain was having to truly harness it’s remaining power to contemplate life, to solve logical problems and to create in a way it never had before.
The Mind was in a small puddle. Every now and then, it would seep through the grates and ooze over the giant, rubbery Subconscious. The subconscious heaved and groaned, yet it continued to spew out all that was required of it; memories, dreams and vital, factual information. For several weeks, the Three lived in some variation on the concept of Harmony. All was still as the Mind grieved like a spoiled child without a toy.
The Brain began to send signals to it’s housing. The mushy mass of flesh that protected the shiny off-white teeth from the outside world was pulled back on a more regular basis. The Mind complained bitterly that it had nothing to smile about.
Without the underwear, the hideous nether regions that the ducklings had covered had disappeared. This pleased the Brain greatly. In the quiet hours of the night, the Mind would vent it’s frustrations to the giant subconscious. The subconscious would groan in hunger.
Angered by the triumph the Brain felt at the effect the loss of the underwear had had, the Mind was purposefully neglecting it’s duties. Instead of dutifully feeding the subconscious, the Mind fed the mass of porous rubber anything it could find lying around. Cables, pieces of rusted grate, an old shoe - anything that the subconscious opened it’s mouth for, the Mind fed to it. During the long slumber of the Brain, the Mind would avidly watch the images that played… images that were broken and twisted and looked very much like the contents of the average drunk after a night on the town.
Little did the Mind know… The Brain remembered none of these. And this was all thanks to the loss of the duckling-spotted underwear.
(Part The Fifth: The Darker Side Of Things — coming soon!)
(c) 2016 Alexandra Odendaal
Wednesday 7 September 2016
Monday 18 May 2015
A tale of some seriously stylish bird-themed underpants...
When one is left to one's own devices, freedom without rules can often have a rather unsavoury effect. The consequences can be catastrophic, but often reversible. The Mind had a flair for the dramatic and a great big playground to explore. What it did to the Subconscious was deplorable. What it did to the Brain was even worse.
Part The Third: Duckling-Spotted Underwear
The pair of stained underpants that lay on the mesh floor of the room of the Subconscious, be-speckled with perpetually cheery ducklings, was an item of great value to the Mind. The underpants had been there through everything; the good, the bad and the just downright wrong. Why the Mind was an androgynous figure with what looked like false "bits" tied on with pieces of yellowing string was a mystery to the Brain. To the duckling-spotted underwear, however, it was a waking nightmare.
The Mind had allowed the underpants a small amount of breathing space, leaving them beneath the steam that issued inexplicably from the floor beneath. The underpants enjoyed the feeling of the steam. I was preferable to touching any part of the Mind's undercarriage.
The Mind was standing against a far wall. Sparks crackled over head as a broken wire swung dangerously close to the cow-lick that crowned the Mind's scalp. There was something stuck in the wall. There was something there that should not have been.
The Mind gazed at it intently for a few moments before grasping it tightly and tugging gently. The jagged-piece-of-something stayed put. The Mind tugged slightly harder. Still, the jagged-piece-of-something would not move. The Mind frowned, It's lips parted in confusion and growing irritation. It began to back away from the wall and the jagged-piece-of-something, crouching and feeling blindly behind It for something to get a better grip with. The Mind's fingers brushed against the small piece of yellow-spotted cotton that was enjoying the steaming breeze...
The duckling-spotted underwear shrieked — or, rather, it would have done, had it had a set of lungs. Torn away from the warm, comfortable, damp and steamy breeze, it found itself being wound around the Mind's stubby fingers. The Mind then clamped those stubby fingers around the jagged-piece-of-something and tugged as hard as It could.
There was the sound of ripping cloth and a loud thunk as the Mind fell back on to the mesh floor. The Mind looked in dismay at the torn fragments of cotton in Its hand and promptly burst into tears.
(Part The Fourth: Revenge Of The Duckling-Spotted Underwear — coming soon!)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
Part The Third: Duckling-Spotted Underwear
The pair of stained underpants that lay on the mesh floor of the room of the Subconscious, be-speckled with perpetually cheery ducklings, was an item of great value to the Mind. The underpants had been there through everything; the good, the bad and the just downright wrong. Why the Mind was an androgynous figure with what looked like false "bits" tied on with pieces of yellowing string was a mystery to the Brain. To the duckling-spotted underwear, however, it was a waking nightmare.
The Mind had allowed the underpants a small amount of breathing space, leaving them beneath the steam that issued inexplicably from the floor beneath. The underpants enjoyed the feeling of the steam. I was preferable to touching any part of the Mind's undercarriage.
The Mind was standing against a far wall. Sparks crackled over head as a broken wire swung dangerously close to the cow-lick that crowned the Mind's scalp. There was something stuck in the wall. There was something there that should not have been.
The Mind gazed at it intently for a few moments before grasping it tightly and tugging gently. The jagged-piece-of-something stayed put. The Mind tugged slightly harder. Still, the jagged-piece-of-something would not move. The Mind frowned, It's lips parted in confusion and growing irritation. It began to back away from the wall and the jagged-piece-of-something, crouching and feeling blindly behind It for something to get a better grip with. The Mind's fingers brushed against the small piece of yellow-spotted cotton that was enjoying the steaming breeze...
The duckling-spotted underwear shrieked — or, rather, it would have done, had it had a set of lungs. Torn away from the warm, comfortable, damp and steamy breeze, it found itself being wound around the Mind's stubby fingers. The Mind then clamped those stubby fingers around the jagged-piece-of-something and tugged as hard as It could.
There was the sound of ripping cloth and a loud thunk as the Mind fell back on to the mesh floor. The Mind looked in dismay at the torn fragments of cotton in Its hand and promptly burst into tears.
(Part The Fourth: Revenge Of The Duckling-Spotted Underwear — coming soon!)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
Sunday 20 April 2014
The inevitable madness that ensued...
The brain is an incredible thing. It can conjure up the most fantastic of images that leave one breathless in excitement, or trembling in terror. Some day, I hope to fully understand what makes the Mind do what it does to the Brain and why it still cares so fully for the subconscious, despite it's rather unappealing nature.
Part The Second: The Madness
For three long years, the Mind had led a comfortable life, lounging in it's theatre of ethereal light, doting upon it's beautiful ball of flames and basking in the promise of a resplendent future. The Mind was at ease, until that fatal day, upon which the Mind had become distracted and had tainted the Subconscious, transforming it into a coral-coloured ball of porous rubber.
A portion of the Subconscious had been turned to stone and had cracked open, spilling fragments of nightmarish images into the grand theatre. The beauty slowly began to change, to warp, to mutate. This once stunning location had turned into a boiler room with mesh on the floors, glowing in evil red and hissing as steam rose from unidentifiable places and sparks crackled from broken wires. The Subconscious itself had begun to moan and growl, hungry for any conscious input that would ease the great discomfort it felt.
The Mind slowly succumbed to the grief its mistake had caused. Such potential, such beauty, had been destroyed by one tiny mistake. It had been but one slip of the wrist, an accidental toss in the wrong direction. The Mind would not allow itself to remember the destruction. In its misery, it began to lose interest in its job, its raison d'être. It had nothing left but to sit and feed whatever came through the Brain into the bloated, sweating monster of a Subconscious... but continuing with its job took its toll on the Mind's sanity.
It was not long before the Mind had given in. Barely a year passed before the Mind had shed its opulence and had donned a top hat, a cane and a pair of boxers with bright yellow ducklings speckled all over them. The Mind began to settle into its new home, despite the fact that the very sight of the Subconscious made it want to put one of the sparking wires in its mouth and give the electricity a nice French kiss.
The Mind soon accepted the change in its circumstance. The more it accepted it, in fact, the more mad it seemed to become. It had taken — as of the fifth year — to singing "It's Raining Men" whilst doing a modified version of the dance from "Singing In The Rain", prancing across the power room beneath the Subconscious with the whimsy and accuracy of a crawling toddler. On good days, it would strip of the duckling-spotted underwear and pirouette through the boiler room wearing a tinfoil hat, whispering to the Subconscious that the mad men would not find it. The Subconscious would groan for more input.
The Mind had to face the fact that it would have to leave the life it had so adored and live with its own mistake until the Brain died. The Brain found this to be a highly disagreeable concept, for the Mind was one of a small attention-span and a low tolerance for repetitive activity. Therefore, it took it upon itself to completely destroy the Brain's life.
It was then that the Mind realised how much fun it could really have...
(Part Three: Duckling-Spotted Underwear — coming soon)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
Part The Second: The Madness
For three long years, the Mind had led a comfortable life, lounging in it's theatre of ethereal light, doting upon it's beautiful ball of flames and basking in the promise of a resplendent future. The Mind was at ease, until that fatal day, upon which the Mind had become distracted and had tainted the Subconscious, transforming it into a coral-coloured ball of porous rubber.
A portion of the Subconscious had been turned to stone and had cracked open, spilling fragments of nightmarish images into the grand theatre. The beauty slowly began to change, to warp, to mutate. This once stunning location had turned into a boiler room with mesh on the floors, glowing in evil red and hissing as steam rose from unidentifiable places and sparks crackled from broken wires. The Subconscious itself had begun to moan and growl, hungry for any conscious input that would ease the great discomfort it felt.
The Mind slowly succumbed to the grief its mistake had caused. Such potential, such beauty, had been destroyed by one tiny mistake. It had been but one slip of the wrist, an accidental toss in the wrong direction. The Mind would not allow itself to remember the destruction. In its misery, it began to lose interest in its job, its raison d'être. It had nothing left but to sit and feed whatever came through the Brain into the bloated, sweating monster of a Subconscious... but continuing with its job took its toll on the Mind's sanity.
It was not long before the Mind had given in. Barely a year passed before the Mind had shed its opulence and had donned a top hat, a cane and a pair of boxers with bright yellow ducklings speckled all over them. The Mind began to settle into its new home, despite the fact that the very sight of the Subconscious made it want to put one of the sparking wires in its mouth and give the electricity a nice French kiss.
The Mind soon accepted the change in its circumstance. The more it accepted it, in fact, the more mad it seemed to become. It had taken — as of the fifth year — to singing "It's Raining Men" whilst doing a modified version of the dance from "Singing In The Rain", prancing across the power room beneath the Subconscious with the whimsy and accuracy of a crawling toddler. On good days, it would strip of the duckling-spotted underwear and pirouette through the boiler room wearing a tinfoil hat, whispering to the Subconscious that the mad men would not find it. The Subconscious would groan for more input.
The Mind had to face the fact that it would have to leave the life it had so adored and live with its own mistake until the Brain died. The Brain found this to be a highly disagreeable concept, for the Mind was one of a small attention-span and a low tolerance for repetitive activity. Therefore, it took it upon itself to completely destroy the Brain's life.
It was then that the Mind realised how much fun it could really have...
(Part Three: Duckling-Spotted Underwear — coming soon)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
Saturday 19 April 2014
There once was a Brain and a Mind...
There are many ways in which to look at the subconscious. There are many ways to look at the human mind. I am not a neuroscientist, but I am a storyteller, and I would like to tell you the story of a Brain that was tormented by a broken Mind who worshipped a damaged Subconscious.
Part The First: The First Years
When the Mind first came into the world, it was a handsome creature. The Mind was fond of the finer things —those fine things that the well-off have in those old movies set in the fourteenth Century. The Mind envisioned itself as some sort of King, and that he was.
The Mind was the King of the world that lay within the Brain of a newborn baby. This was a creature untouched and untainted by decisions and perceptions. The Mind was King of the beautiful, clean, brand-new theatre. In the fore of the stage lay the the many beautiful and wondrous things the Brain had begun to absorb. The Mind would have to carefully use these absorbed images and feelings to shape the Subconscious.
So very many years ago, the Subconscious had been a beautiful ball of fiery light that had hovered, untainted, above a white pedestal. The Mind had doted upon it, pacing slowly around the room, approaching it to feel the warmth of its glow, watching it as it pulsed gently away in the white Kingdom. The Mind felt an enormous affection towards the Subconscious, for the ball of fire was in the King's charge. The Mind had to keep the fiery ball healthy and stunning and wondrous... though the Mind did not understand the full extent of its own responsibilities.
It had only taken three years for the Mind to make a mistake. It had been dutifully feeding the images and sights and smells and feelings into the ball of fire when it had become distracted. The nature of the distraction had long since been forgotten. The important fact was, the Mind had made a mistake. Without looking, it had fed a dark image and a horrific feeling into the Subconscious.
At once, the glowing light had been extinguished. The Subconscious then transformed into a ball of rubbery coral-coloured sponge. Within moments, a large portion of it had bulged and distorted and turned to stone where it cracked, spilling tiny fragments of waste into the room around it.
You see, the Subconscious was a filter. It was absorb the items it was fed by the Mind to release only the warm, cheerful fire of the things the that Brain should have been aware of. Now, however, the Subconscious had been damaged by the Mind's carelessness. Small fragments of nightmarish essence began to taint the Kingdom within the Brain.
The Mind, horrified, began to go mad...
(Post Two: The Madness — coming soon)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
Part The First: The First Years
When the Mind first came into the world, it was a handsome creature. The Mind was fond of the finer things —those fine things that the well-off have in those old movies set in the fourteenth Century. The Mind envisioned itself as some sort of King, and that he was.
The Mind was the King of the world that lay within the Brain of a newborn baby. This was a creature untouched and untainted by decisions and perceptions. The Mind was King of the beautiful, clean, brand-new theatre. In the fore of the stage lay the the many beautiful and wondrous things the Brain had begun to absorb. The Mind would have to carefully use these absorbed images and feelings to shape the Subconscious.
So very many years ago, the Subconscious had been a beautiful ball of fiery light that had hovered, untainted, above a white pedestal. The Mind had doted upon it, pacing slowly around the room, approaching it to feel the warmth of its glow, watching it as it pulsed gently away in the white Kingdom. The Mind felt an enormous affection towards the Subconscious, for the ball of fire was in the King's charge. The Mind had to keep the fiery ball healthy and stunning and wondrous... though the Mind did not understand the full extent of its own responsibilities.
It had only taken three years for the Mind to make a mistake. It had been dutifully feeding the images and sights and smells and feelings into the ball of fire when it had become distracted. The nature of the distraction had long since been forgotten. The important fact was, the Mind had made a mistake. Without looking, it had fed a dark image and a horrific feeling into the Subconscious.
At once, the glowing light had been extinguished. The Subconscious then transformed into a ball of rubbery coral-coloured sponge. Within moments, a large portion of it had bulged and distorted and turned to stone where it cracked, spilling tiny fragments of waste into the room around it.
You see, the Subconscious was a filter. It was absorb the items it was fed by the Mind to release only the warm, cheerful fire of the things the that Brain should have been aware of. Now, however, the Subconscious had been damaged by the Mind's carelessness. Small fragments of nightmarish essence began to taint the Kingdom within the Brain.
The Mind, horrified, began to go mad...
(Post Two: The Madness — coming soon)
(c) 2014 Alexandra Odendaal
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