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2:01 am: After spending four and forty hours in deep and dirty contemplation of n-dimensional topology, I became thoroughly convinced that I could successfully turn my insides, out, within the postitudinal bounds of regular homotopy.

2:02 am: Unable to immediately envision a simple affine eversion, I was forced to result to a more practical, or "brute force" methodology... By crossing my arms and pushing up into my armpits, I thought, perhaps, I would be able to undergo the necessary bodily transfigurations. Slowly I became aware that I was an impervious manifold, pitifully incapable of self-intersection, which disturbed me deeply.

2:44 am: Realizing that any polynomial or parametric expansion of my figure would likely be of sufficiently high degree to render my visual intuition ineffectual, I decide to compute my degree from experimental data and develop a rough path model of the transformations necessary, using my weighty library of theorems and corollaries in differential geometry. Despite the inelegance of this approach, I continued to feel confident that the final transformation will be smooth.

2:59 am: Casting marble to the wind, I reluctantly embarked on this venture into the rough loci that is coordinate geometry. I began by plotting points on my skin, using a black magic marker. My lack of a mirror inhibited exact spacing, but I intended to use a leveling bell curve to average and normalize the data, which I developed, while plotting, with my free hand. Although the shrieking statistician inside my skin protested both vocally and violently, I continued to pursue my original processes; if I proved to be at all periodic, a good Fourier Transform simplification would vastly increase my ease in translating and rotating in normal 3-space. Note: In afterthought, this would have been useless, seeing as I didn’t even have the O(n log n) required to complete the mixed-radix Cooley-Tukey FFT algorithm.

3:43 am: I began to run into additional difficulties when I found the marks on my extremities were smudging against the carpet while I spotted my stomach; thinking this would be a recurrent issue, I sought to develop a statistical model to compensate for the smudging; however, I soon realized that I could just suspend myself bodily from the ceiling fixture, and engage the mathematiciansprerogative, dismissing the existent smudging as unavoidable 'experimental error'. Unfortunately, I also fell and fully pricked my hand on a rusty doornail, thus invalidating my original assumption that I was a surface of Genus 1.

To be continued: How I was forced to conclude that I was most definitely insoluble by a general case.

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