The Curse of Writing

I started to write something tonight, as is my curse. It wrote itself in my mind at first, of course. I was lying up in bed processing the day’s events, when an inspiration intruded, as they always do.

“…And shoot out particles that make patterns and patterns that make decisions and decisions that become human whether we like them or not.”

Clever. It was not the beginning of the story. But part way in. I wonder where I was going with it? Or where it came from? You could wrap a story around that. And I had other ideas…

Gone. Yesterday. I had this notion of a thought of a clever thing to say at least in my mind, scary place that that is. And I wanted to write it down, evil person that I was. Is. Am. That’s the way it works. I get a clever idea in my mind. For a while. A minute or two. My muse sings her songs of maddening inspiration to me. And suddenly I realize, “This is good! I should write this down.”

And I scrape around for paper and pen. I’m in bed and trying to settle down for the coming evening, but the down settling and the evening coming don’t come as planned. I’ve got pads of paper around me. I pick one up. Full. Of inspirations long past. And another. This one looks promising. Full, again. Ghaw! I pick up my laptop, the last resort. I bring up a Windows word doc and start typing, each step robbing me of memory. I get my memory line down. That is the one I started singing to myself like a mantra once I realized that my muse was talking to me. I shoot out particles that make patterns… And patterns that make personalities? Which become prostitutes. What? I’ve got to remember. Remember …the one I knew would help me remember the rest. Oy. I’ve gotta write this stuff down.

And I write. And I hope to hang onto the rest. Remember. The words before and the, hopefully, words after. They were just there. A second ago. An age. While I was grappling for paper, pen, and computer. But they don’t come back.

They stay away. Inspiration is timid. Shy. Fearful. Would that I could make her my lover.