Brain Cloud

Brain Cloud. I can't exactly describe what a brain cloud is, but I think I've been inside a brain cloud for .... how old am I? A sure sign that you are in a brain cloud is not being able to think of anything to say. I have had it happen at parties, or when friends come over. Lynn-nore will be talking and I'll realize, "You know, I don't think I've said anything in the last hour.... I should say something....hmmmm...what to say?" and so it goes. There are some techniques for getting past this. Sir Walter Raleigh, for example, will throw some small object around which usually dissipates cloudiness to the point of releasing a stray thought - like some kind of Civil-War-era blockade runner - pops to the surface. But I digress.

It isn't that Brain Cloud thinking does not exist. There is lightning implicit in every cloud, right? Brain Cloud thinking is thinking, but it always begins with the impression that there's really no use in it anyway. If you do think about something, there is a parental-figure of the mind who usually comes in and spoils the whole thing. "Oh, so you're going to play music in a band? That sounds fun but tiring" or "Oh, you want to write? Well, you should devote a few hours every day to it in order to work up your craft and maybe in a year or so you could submit a few pieces." Brain Cloud thoughts are vaporware of the mind.

The only thing a Brain Cloud enjoys is goofing off and television (which is basically a socially-acceptable form of goofing off.) Like Rowling's Mirror of Erised, a Brain Cloud enjoys a single-wavelength "hanging around" kind of experience, a time sink, which feels great at the time but then comes with a significant bill of guilt sale at the end.

Frankly, I'm not really sure where the brain cloud comes from. Nor do I know what makes it go away. Nevertheless, I'm pretty sure that I am stuck in one these days, and that is no fun at all.