Conversations With A Brain, episode 3

You need to write something for the blog.

I can’t.

Why not?

I’m afraid. Nothing I write will be good enough to make up for the huge gap since I last updated it. The last post was about vaginas, for chrissake. How can I top that?

That’s kind of the point. Now that you’re back in the art game, anyone who visits the website will see the vaginismus posts first thing. There needs to be some kind of craft-related post to act as a buffer.

But people LIKED those essays! They got more response than almost anything else I’ve written.

You need to look professional to prospective customers. That means writing something new so your top post has a recent date on it. You need people to think you’re not some flake who abandoned her website for months.

That wasn’t my fault. You know that 2018 sent more shit my way than I could handle. I was perfectly justified in taking some time off.

Whatever you need to tell yourself. Just fucking write something, already!

Okay, fine. How about a piece on my health bullshit—kind of an explanation of my absence?

No one cares.

Maybe something about the new stuff I’ve got for sale at the Corvallis Art Center?

You didn’t take pictures of the jewelry before you delivered it. No one will go there without knowing exactly what your work looks like. And we both know you don’t have the guts to take photographs at the Art Center.

A review of art products?

No one wants your opinion. 

Howzabout a description of my cat’s antics? Everyone likes cats.

Please tell me you’re joking.

I don’t know what you want from me. You insist that the blog needs an update, but you shoot down every idea I have.

This piece has to be PERFECT. It needs to be impressive. It needs pictures, graphics, witty anecdotes, exciting subjects… You need to make up for your absence, remember?

It doesn’t matter WHAT I write, it just needs to be written. No one expects me to be brilliant every single post.


If you wanted perfection, you should have been someone else’s brain.

I will torment you endlessly until you write something that’s up to my standards. Your nightmares will drown you in visions of your failures. I’ll make you too anxious to leave the house. I’ll send you to the depths of despair. Your sobs will echo through your cold and empty soul. Yea, the very heavens will quake with my wrath!

Now you’re just throwing a tantrum.

Do my bidding or suffer the consequences. 

You know what? I’m going to post this conversation. That will teach you to threaten me.

Nooooooo! Spite, my only weakness!

That’s right, bitch. I know your kryptonite. 

You haven’t heard the last of this.

I know. But for now…I win.

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