In Search of Perfection and Nitrous Oxide

I think I wrote the perfect paragraph today.

It was short but concise. It had imagery, emotion, depth, universality. The rhythm of the words was so exquisite it hurt. The prose flowed exactly as it should; it could be no other way.

There may even have been a whiff of Proust’s madeleines about it.

Which is completely inappropriate, because I head-wrote it while in the dentist’s chair and deeply under the influence of nitrous oxide. I can’t remember a word of it.

I thought about requesting some nitrous-to-go in the off chance I could find it again, but any other time I’ve asked, they laughed like I was joking or something.

Bastards.

Now I go back to slogging through the shitty first draft of my current work-in-progress and wondering why I do this writing thing— or even think I can.

I did get a blog post out of it. And, I can once again chew with the right side of my mouth, so there is that.

But, oh man. That paragraph, those words…

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