Self Conscious About My Subconscious

My memories were vivid this morning. Did you ever have a flood of detailed memories from all different times in your life and you felt they were trying to tell you something? The problem becomes trying to piece together the common thread, if there is one. How could a snapshot of a street corner in Morro Bay California from on my morning paper route at 545am on a fall morning in my 12th year relate to a still image of a hillside from God knows where or when?

The answer is sex. I am a male human being which means that each of these places is a place that I wanted to or tried to or thought about having sex. In my prepubescent memories things are very vague. Nothing is important enough before you find your penis to warrant storage of the file. 

At this point, for me it’s all about storage space. I am forced to subconsciously prioritize memories. The sad thing is that my subconscious is a degenerate perv and only keeps cheap porn. If you stopped by my subconscious’ crappy apartment you would probably be disgusted. I am. My subconscious is like that perpetually immature friend that always has some ridiculous unrealistic scam going and guilts you into hanging out all the time because “We’re bros!”, borrowing money from you with no intention of repayment. It’s why I meditate. To take leave of it’s company like taking a soul shower.

At any rate, that’s the guy in charge of storing my memories. Ironically, as I meditate it shows me all the most prized pics from the piles of spankworthy images it has saved on my behalf making it nearly impossible to ever be free of the weirdo.

With any luck the Artificial Intelligence industry will develop a way for us to move consciousness and subconsciousness around like software. When they do we will be able to swap subconsciousness with each other. I suspect that every guy has the same sexually frustrated 12 year old running things behind the scenes anyway so it won’t change much. You might enjoy having my subconscious for a little while though. He’s quite a ride and kinda fun… until you blow your load. 

 

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