I woke from a dream, just now. I was having one of those semi-lucid creative moments, when several post ideas were chained together into one delightful mega-post, with perfect segues from each theme to the next, verbal construction that dazzled with humor and interest and pathos and…it was going to be great!
This is not that post.
I got up and went to pee. And (as so often happens), during that few moments, the brilliant plan faded away. I could feel it dispersing…until I lost each and every plank in the platform of the self-evident brilliance was…just gone.
So I’ve gotta stow a notebook and a pen (or something) bedside so that I can scribble on the way to the potty. Try to save something, some core of idea(s)…
Because in the A.M. I will undoubtedly turn on the Idiot Box, watch the re-run of last night’s Walking Dead…and post some kind of drivel instead.
Sorry readers, that I have a bladder. Or else I would be in a furious keyboard-pounding haze of J.D. Salinger, and the next Great American Novel would be taking shape right now!
Damn you, Dr. Pepper company, damn you. All your fault.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.