The Dreaded Brain Drivel

I Just Can't Help Myself!

Chris Berry
You know I can be sitting at my computer in all seriousness attempting to write the great intellectual discourse on molecular macular generation in a modern society when out of nowhere it strikes. You guessed it the dreaded Mind Drivel. One minute everything is going fine then all of a sudden, "Splort!" a gob of the stuff lands squarely on my page.

It doesn't matter what the subject. It could be rocket surgery or quantum physics. Right when I think I've nailed the story to the wall, "Splazzat!" another blob appears.
The effect of gamma rays in space? - "Sproint!", Evolution in the Seychelles? - "Sprazongle!", Microbiologistics in a vacuum environment? - "Splazoink!". And what a mess it is to clean up. The thing about it is that once it's there it's nearly impossible to eliminate.

Sometimes it becomes a real problem and the only way to get rid of it is to let myself be sidetracked and spend an inordinate amount of time scratching out silly ideas and thoughts that generally make no sense whatsoever and do literally nothing to contribute to the good of all mankind. It's as if there is a short circuit somewhere inside my brain that will not allow me to get too serious or too deep for more than a few seconds at a time.

I consider myself well educated and from time to time enjoy indulging myself in stimulating conversation. Invariably though my eyes begin to glaze over, my mouth gets dry and my brain begins to fog and then "Sprootz!" the dreaded Mind Drivel decides to make an appearance.

I've tried changing my diet. I've tried vitamins and countless medications. I've tried only hanging out with serious people and pessimists. I've drank myself into oblivion and I've even joined Happy Funny People Anonymous but nothing seems to work. About a half hour into my solemnity, "Sploink!" there it is again, a big nasty globule of tumescent mirth.

It's sad really, hysterically, bone numbing, sidesplitting, spleen rupturing sad. Anyway, now you know my deep dark secret. My soul is laid bare for all to see. Not a pretty sight is it? And now you also know why you will almost never see a completely serious and adroit article or editorial by yours truly.

In closing I just want to say Frzzerp!, Eengyaiyai!, Flazoop!, Noing Noing! Gazoink! And Brrrzeemblick!


Published by Chris Berry

Chris is a writer, songwriter, and recording artist with Retrofit Records who lives in N/W Arizona with his wife, step son, grandson, 2 cats, 2 dogs, a horse, some chickens and one bad ass rooster. He writes...  View profile

  • Changes in diet will not help.
  • Hanging out with pessimists won't help.
  • Massive amounts of medication won't help.
We're all gonna die so let's all have a little fun.

3 Comments

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  • Michael Thomas11/15/2006

    Kaching! This article is clearly worth money and causes me to klurt out k words. Klooj klerm.

  • Barefoot10/30/2006

    Now THAT'S a syndrome that needs a government grant.

  • Sherri Granato10/30/2006

    I call it brain overload. Most writers have about 20 different ideas running together at once through their brains, plus daily stresses, jobs, kids, and whatever else aids in overloading it even more so. A changed diet does me no good, nor does sleep. The only relief that comes for me is a good walk away from other people while allowing my thought pattern to clear. Also reading the newspaper and watching a few hours of television aids my overworked brain. Good luck!

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