"When I think about it now, I realize that the physical attraction you feel to a person can make you feel that something momentous is happening. It can create the illusion that nothing else matters at all. It was the same thing I felt with you later on. But I was more prepared for it then, and that's why I did the disappearing act over and over..."

-Anne Rice, "Belinda"

Tonight, I was thinking about something important, and I don't recall what it was. Not one little bit. I tried and tried to bring it back, to recall the thoughts I thought worthy of documentation, of saving for posterity, but they're gone. This is precisely why I started a blog: to record these fleeting bits and pieces of abstract mental masturbation. Yet it has failed me at precisely the moment I needed saving. Four short hours separate me from my profundity. Perhaps if I recreate the scene, get back in my car and restart the CD that was playing, drive across town in the hopes that the mood and the moment will find me again in a magnum opus of Stanislavskian method, recreating the philosophical masterpiece that was These Thoughts About Something Important. But this is wishful thinking, the pipe dreams of an amateur thinker with a decaying short-term memory.