The cerebral dominance of intellection is meat and drink to me. Except when
I'm getting drunk, in which case it's drink that's drink to me. Actually, I
don't know that my cerebrum is really up to dominating anything very much.
It's certainly readily enough overpowered - again, drink comes to mind.
I expect the dominance of anything very much is inimical to poetry - hooray
for poetry. On the other hand, I don't believe anything good can come of
switching one's brains off altogether, and have irritated scores (or fewer)
of lovers by refusing to do so when asked.
I'd like to pretend that I make up poems by choosing a subject and then
intellectualising extremely hard about it, just to annoy everybody, but in
actual fact for me the process tends to involve The Unconscious, A State of
Peculiar Reverie (usually whilst walking to, or from, Leicester railway
station, for some reason) and quite often - I may have mentioned this
already - *alcohol*. I still love Wendy Cope's poem about policing the
unconscious of Ted Hughes, though.
Dominic
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