

When he made no discovery that allowed him to cry Eureka, he began to consider the possibility that he had not been sufficiently specific in his collecting. He studied the female form from every angle, looking for a morsel that he might have overlooked. He might have overlooked an anatomical feature that, while minor, remained essential to beauty’s jigsaw.įor a while he sat at the kitchen table with da Vinci’s famous anatomical charts and several old Playboy centerfolds.

He could now focus on achieving the perfect metabolism until he ceased to excrete wastes.Īlthough this was a noble undertaking, it didn’t promise as much fun as the quest he had recently completed.įinally, out of desperation, he found himself wondering-indeed hoping- that he had erred when he concluded that he had completed his collection. He tried to muster the desire to take a walk, but if he spent the day in the Quarter, among the throngs of celebratory tourists, and if he failed to encounter the radiant goddess of his destiny, his uneasiness would deepen.īecause he himself was very close to perfect, perhaps now that he had collected all the parts of an ideal woman, he should make it his goal to refine himself that final degree. Mind and body were inextricably linked, of course, so a year of mental senescence would inevitably lead to lines at the corners of his eyes, the first gray hairs at his temples. The more he brooded, the more it seemed that the path to senility loomed before him, as steep as a luge chute. Without a purpose to inspire him, Roy feared that in spite of a perfect diet, ideally balanced nutritional supplements, an array of exotic emollients, and even purified lamb’s urine, he would begin to grow old mentally.

Meaningful work, having a worthwhile purpose, was as crucial to longevity and to enduring youthful-ness as were megadoses of Vitamin C and Coenzyme Qio. Meaningful work kept the mind sharp and the heart uplifted. Never in his young-and getting steadily younger-life had he been without a purpose and a plan.
