Clogged Brains

Clear your clogged brains, said the ads. Use [Substance X], which more often than not seemed to be largely composed of some incredibly caustic chemical (powdered sodium hydroxide, perhaps) or some strong acid (like concentrated hydrochloric acid).

This happened before I discovered the joys of selective dyslexia and when I was prone to accidental dyslexia. But this morning, I remembered it.

I have a clogged brain. I think that since the beginning of October last year, fragments of waste have been swirling around so much that my normally impeccable filters have been clogged. Almost every day, somebody asks me about stuff I'd rather not think about. Each shrug I make in response releases a little piece of sewage, the stub of spam, the s... o' s....

It is hard not to think of the huge stool-accumulation that the pigeons have built over at the Citadel. And it is being piled higher and deeper too. By the time THIS year ends, the monument of the previous age will be something like Nauru.

And so I shall attempt to clear my clogged brain. With something really caustic, perhaps a dose of Chesterton, or any one of the fine writers I seem to have stockpiled. The Good Book has always been wise in recommending lack of speech as an alternative to badly-clogged brains.