The Lost Paragraphs Mystery

How many of you have this sort of experience?  Not in your nightmares.  We’re talking for real. Bittersweet old real world.  Anticipating a yummy Christmas lunch and espresso/latté (gotta be specially made by yours truly, can’t take the café stuff these days, too insipid), I’m reading an OK Neil Gaiman novel on the loo this morning. Then I get this inspiration for a section of my novelette.  Don’t write while on the loo, not me. Prefer to partition some things ok!  There’s a clear invisible force field between doing one’s business and writing for pleasure.  Keep them clear and separate.  (hihihi).  OK, but the idea is important, or cool enough to hurry up and write before it fades from short term memory.   Maybe for once I feel stupid about the partitioning of psychologically Hausdorff separated little mental topologies in life.  Would like to reach for a pencil or pen and back of tissue paper, anything to just note down the seed of it.  No luck.  What’s more, there’s a philosophical theme I feel compelled to write in One Over Epsilon here.  Gotta do it, it’s a sweet sentiment.  Then something happens, and you can probably guess what, though non-specifically right?

Now here’s my specific “happening”. I wash hands and generally purify, as per habits, like to smell nice, and this delays,… what,… 5 mins at most.  No crisis yet right?  Then get back to desk and start typing.  But look, I’m a perfectionist and so I’m polishing off a mathematics derivation first.  Just want to make it easy to read.  Then the little disaster strikes.  I get called to lunch.  It’s family OK!  Hmmm, Christmas turkey.  Cranberry sauce (the good type). Some sparkling grape juice, and my two luscious daughters beaming smiles are on offer.  I try not to eat them all up.  Just the turkey and roast vegetables. I have to attend.  I’m frowning a bit.  But figure the idea is safe, got it stored. ” ‘s cool dude, won’t lose it,” I say to myself.  Famous last words for the morning.


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