023: Saturation Report

Saturation Report
[A day reading with Freud.]

When I first started to read on Freud, I didn't think the words or images placed on the paper before me would make my small hairs stand on end. I anticipated something interesting, fast-paced, and full of new doors to be opened in the recesses of my mind, causing me to tingle from head to toe. I got my wish. I read papers on Haitian Zombies, essays, web pages and all of them make me cringe and shake with excitement. My blood began to bubble and my heart began to beat faster as I read more and more, taking it in like a sponge. The book i bought the year before, "On A Darkling Plain. Journeys Into The Unconcious", opened my eyes to something greater. Something more fascinating then the Undead themselves.

As I read these essays in that book while sitting in math class, i felt tingles in my brain like little ants crawling against the creases. Massaging it to wake up and realize: This is your Thesis topic. Don't screw it up. My mind was right. I kept reading them, Oedipal Complex page after The Unconcious to Narcissism. "Incestuous Desire"...that image rang clear into my head while reading that first essay. Oedipus Complex, you did this to me. Causing me to wrack my brain with goregous words of ideas from psychologists, and Frued himself. Infantile love objects were in everything I read, saw and thought of. You were like a cancer I never wanted treatment from. A disease. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to fill my cranium to the top with these words. While reading the stained pages full of words, my eyes caressed each and every line like it was oxygen to my brain. Making my mind open wider and wider, gasping in each letter and syllable like it was rice to a starving mouth.

These soft, prickly pages fed my fingers and my curiosity. I turned page after page of the "Oedipus Complex", my fingertips danced of the purous edge of the thin, needle like page. Almost like they were dancing an intricate tango. My voice was as quiet as the midnight moon on a cloudless sky. Nothing came from those lips unless it was a sigh of warm breath or a sharp, rowdy cough. It was like a sugar rush to my brain.

And I did, as soon as this thesis was assigned. I couldn't get enough reading those lush, body shiver causing pages of Eros, the life theory. Sexualized words made me think more and more about our life force. Thanatos, the death drive. Cold and harsh. Anxiety. how even our sweat causing fears have a reason. The list goes on, and my head still spins and shivers at the thought of it. Freud was a cocaine addict. I can only picture the smell and his face after he snorted that line of snow white powder. His pulse racing faster then his breath. Beads of sweat rolling off his cheek....It's enough to make me want to faint.

Further into my studies, I found out more about Freud and his space-out-there theories, I began to notice a pattern: they all were sexualized to the point of no return. He was practically making love to his ideas and spurting them out of his cranimum like they were children themselves!! I was in a state of middle ground. I wasn't too freaked out by this, but at the same time, I was intrigued. Mentally disgusted by the infantile perversion my research topic gave me, I trudged onward and learned more, fed my brainchild of narcissistic, oedipal, anxious and lust infestation.

Yeah, Freud gets me going...In the brain.