It floated perfectly across my mind last night as I was drifting off. It made sense, and it was flawless, and I was quite certain of its tangibility and urgency. But it seems now that it existed only in that state, and the matter has completely left me. Some things can't be expressed, much less actually written or recorded. You fight them anyway and try to wrestle them into words and pin them down on paper, but they fight back and they always win. They are moments of clarity, maybe even "the holy moment," but they are still only moments that have so little to do with all the stumbling and rotary motions of every day life. They are over as soon as you realize that they ever happened.
And the more I write about writing, the worse it gets.
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