Day one:
On Monday I had a molar pulled. It had cracked up the centre and I was in agony.
I thought, why not exploit the situation and see where my muse wanders? (An uncommon experience for this teetotaller.)
I had organised a notebook to record any anaesthetic-induced inspirations my muse may wish to impart during the hazy twenty-four hours that would follow. Maybe I would get lucky and find a gem that could be mined?
Day two:
The muddle was melting. The pain lingered. I grabbed my notebook, eager to dig into its treasure trove of ideas. I sat down to the keyboard and opened my notebook.
Spidery lines tracked across the first page, occasionally hiccuping onto the next line. The lines thickened as they sprawled across the following pages, eventually forming rudimentary letters. Only one intelligible phrase was barely readable amongst the rambling doodles:
“the ferit wins “
So much for tapping into the unfettered muse. I think I will stick to my tea and dark chocolate.
Oh, I so feel you, Karen! When I was in convalescence from pneumonia last year, I tried to write in my hospital bed while taking a pound-and-a-half of pills every day. The most legible entries in my notebook were these three lines:
“The family Boedekkerers huntingis people.
Plot’s farifi Chinese – rescue from std verses.
Lesions – young nobleman serik – L tcikbc – Him or valet? Did they get right one?”
Now I write under the influence of flavored coffee, woody incense, and silence; I find that controlled substances don’t work. Good to hear it isn’t just me!