In Which Our Hero Writes

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Oftentimes while I'm walking, or driving, or even showering, I'll be mentally composing things to post here. They always sound so great while I'm doing it, and I don't doubt that further reflection would yield an appraisal of at least 'good'. The problem is that these brilliant ramblings somehow evaporate from my mind the moment I'm within arm's reach of some way to transcribe them.

I'm left wondering if perhaps brilliance is an inherently transient phenomenon, if the only reason I'm having these thoughts is that there's no way to record them. Perhaps everyone is granted occasional flashes of insight, only to lose them an instant later. Maybe genius is simply the ability to recall these epiphanies at a later date.

Probably not.

See what I mean? The moment I start typing, I'm a moron.

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