I have no great fondness for the corporeal form. All the sleeping and waking, breathing and eating, discourse and intercourse, working and earning, all the usual stuff indulged by necessity or beloved by others is lost on me. I find it all a tremendous effort. I've irritable bowl syndrome too and I get wet when it rains. The mental constriction of existing as a single entity and being regarded as an intellectual/psychological individual is also tiresome. All the associations and memories and memories of associations can get very complex. It's enough to give you a complex. What I'm building to here is an admission. The admission that I'd rather be a load of ideas than an actual person. I'd quite fancy being a cloudy emanation of flashing concepts, a nebulous exudate of lightbulb moments, floating around, seeping imperceptibly forth, descending on heads, going in ears, giving people notions to enact. I'd find that preferable to getting up every morning, plugging in the heater or opening the window, trying to stay warm or keep cool. That stuff's not for me. Not being me is for me. Being a non-being who inspires other beings is for me. People could see the rolling mist of sparking ideas, crackling and drifting in their direction and they could say 'oh, it's ideas time'. They'd put their thumbs up. It'd be grand.
It's not that I credit my ideas above other people's or anything else. I just credit my ideas above myself. I've never been one to credit myself for my ideas. I just get ideas, like the rest of you. Some good, some bad, some OK, none mine. Ideas do not come from people. Ideas come to people. People just happen upon ideas, like they happen upon pieces of old shite on the road and step in them. Ideas are just pieces of old shite on the road and you don't take credit for the shite on your shoe so don't take credit for ideas. The only thing you can take credit for is the way you act upon/actualise the ideas you get, just like the way you can credit yourself for wiping shite off your shoe. The deftness and conscientiousness of your efforts are uniquely yours but the initial inspiration is not yours. You don't create the ideas you get just like you don't do the pieces of old shite on the road you step in. At least, I hope you don't do the pieces of old shite on the road you step in. If you do do the pieces of old shite on the road you step in then that not only means you are a very unusual person but also that the analogy I'm labouring here will be harder for you to grasp.
Anyway, to inconclusively conclude this conclusion I've come to, yes, I'd like to just be the ideas floating in the heads of others and seeing what those others do with me. Yes, I'd like to just be the pieces of old shite on the road wondering how people will wipe me off and scoop me out of the grooves in the soles, gouge me out of the corrugations in their souls. Yes, I think it'd be better to be the pieces of old shite on the road than the person who steps in them and has to wipe them off, again and again and again and again. Sometimes there are so many pieces of old shite on the road you can no longer see the road. It's enough to make you wonder if there is even a road under all the pieces of old shite at all or is it all just an idea...
...what an awful notion
...I'm going back to bed.