Bad, vile and meaningless: Separation from Alan's clob

Life seems to be divided to two kinds of moments. There are those, which you experience in the full, that become part of you, and which you can't properly bring back afterwards, because the act of doing that would force you to separate yourself from the experience, even if only in memory. Then there are those, where you keep yourself separate, and pretend that only a part of you is experiencing a particular thing and introspectively attempt to record the experience and your own reactions in detail.

So it was that I rose up from bed, feeling such perfect contentment and appreciation of my girl friend sleeping with her back to be, my arms wrapped around her, and decided to convert that piece of oneness into the cold rationalization and a longing memory. Perhaps it was foolishly done.