Last night (the night after the previous one, to which I was referring in my previous post - oh you know what I mean), I lay poised - if such a thing is possible - in anticipation of bolts of brilliance bursting from my creative cortex and infusing the otherwise dormant cells of what passes for my brain. On my nightstand lay a pad of paper and a pen, so that I might record for posterity any fleeting thoughts of genuine mediocrity (I always set my sights comfortably low).
I waited. Then, I waited some more. Certain that the cells would soon start firing, I waited even longer and just to help things along, I tried to strain a little bit, using the longest word in the English language: "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn..." etc.. When that threatened to cause a potentially unpleasant intra-bed incident, I stopped straining and settled down into waiting mode once again. Oh, I thought, this is going to be good - capturing ideas before they have a chance to escape!
You can imagine, then, my artisitic angst this morning when I awoke to find that I had fiendishly fallen asleep before my genius had the chance to visit my conscious self! A silent "Neeeeaaaaarrgghhh!!!" began at about 7.30am, and is still rattling around the inside of my cranium.
Oh for some absinthe, that quilted smoking jacket that I keep hinting about, and a briar pipe filled with angst-reducing substances...
Clean living, I've decided, is over-rated.