It's complicated.

"Your flaunt cut my fingers in half--why are we eating these insane spirit chips? I've known Amalie since never. A statue is a thing a note with nodes would know. There's a bracket in my brain where thoughts should be. This night is a beef stew with too many ladles, I need this clever concentration."

I'd like to take a moment to appeal to artists. In the moments after our heads hit the pillow, when all of the days reminiscences are marinating in emotion and stimuli, we experience a few moments of consciousness where we inevitably stumble upon a fantastic idea that we're simply too tired to get up and write down. It's far too pleasant a state of relaxation to overcome the thoughts that are telling us that it's too great of an idea to forget by morning. So we go to sleep, let our dreams carry to distant lands, and never stumble upon this idea again until the next night when it happens all over again, and we realize we have no recollection of the magic that was happening in our minds the night before.

Last night, I won.

The "artistic ideas" are at the top of this post in quotes. What the fuck, right?

I don't know yet. I hope to find out. I feel like I must be capable of knowing the origin of these thoughts, because they came from my mind. But I'm not sure how to access them.

I guess the reason I'm posting this is because all this time, when I thought I was having incredibly deep thoughts and making artistic love with my brain, I was really spewing subconscious nonsense. The phenomenon, I would argue, lies in the regard with which we hold these pre-sleep ideas. I guess the brain being switched off kind of has its own implications there... but it's still sort of hard to say. I don't know much about the brain, but I'm pretty sure the ability to type this into my phone makes me more awake than if I hadn't. So I don't know how much of the conscious thought is contaminated with subconscious or unconscious thought.

The fact is that it's still my thoughts. And whether they were conscious or not--let's hope not--they mean nothing to me at this moment in time.

It's hard to say. I guess I rest my case. It's funny though. A beef stew with too many ladles?