On Writing From One's Subconscious; An Introduction

I have a problem.
It's a build-up, an accumulation of cerebral dirt, which is starting to rot my poor brain.
It is my desire to write out a bunch of my random, detached thoughts, combatting with genuine (and not unfounded) hatred of my own writing.

Anyway. That was just an explanation of why I started this. My name is Phillipa R. Ellis, and I have too much time on my hands.

Now,

A few words on Writing From The Subconscious.


On writing from one’s bed.

I think that writing is supposed to be like Déjà vu.
It’s really something you’ve already written in your mind
In the depths of your subconscious.
Most likely in a dream.

When I was balanced on that point of limbo between wake and sleep this morning, I was thinking lovely, detached thoughts about garbage trucks, and- like some Pavlovian reaction, as if I were a dog hearing the bells of supper-time – I felt the most curious reaction of utter dread.
To explain, one ought to know that Monday is garbage day in Ferny Creek, and of course, Monday is that most hated day of the week when one must face the drama, work, and trouble that threatens their person.

Over and again throughout the day, I kept remembering little pieces of this literary masterpiece, and subsequently feel them trickling away.

Which leads me to think I never really though about very much at all.
Perhaps the extent of my thoughts agout the garbage truck and its connotations was "That sounds like the garbage truck. But it's not a Monday. Hm."

I never really know what I'm saying.