Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Inspirational Purgatory

So I have been sitting here looking at the many pieces on Mister Fine thinking about a piece or two to post in my mind and nothing seems to be gelling. Despite years of cynicism, coffee, bad travel experiences and other such stuff there seems to be no rhyme or reason why I can’t put down fifteen paragraphs or so without sobbing quietly into my pillow at the third and declaring that whatever talent I had is all over and it will never come back.

I can’t seem to shake this sense of foreboding that after working on the full 32 posts (and one dodgy mobile phone photo) that I can’t seem to get the ideas in my head down on paper. And the ideas seem to be there, from inspirational school television influences, crazy american familys with hot air balloons to the excitement of not paying a cent extra for public transport for the next 2 years (the last one apparently was enough to pay for more ticket inspectors.) but the issue seems to be that I get to a good point, then I lose the moment and stop...right...about...now……..



….so the question is that, while wallowing in a mire of inspirational deficient mud, I should be able to step forward and get enough momentum to move on.


And at this point I want to kick start my muse like a motor scooter without the use of hard or soft drugs. Without resorting the methods such as extreme antarctic polo(with seals) or running off to an ancient emo temple to wear lots of black and talk to no one. I need to get the movement going again with a cheap and practical muse for hire, especially if I want to keep Mister Fine moving at some pace.


And I don't seem to be the only one. I know numerous blogs that start out so well with the updates occuring in such a regimented fashion that the Army feels out of step before tailing off with posts occurring yearly, like the school journals of old.


So my real question to everyone, and it has only taken five paragraphs to get to a point, is on the way we get our muses to work. We seem to be dependant on these little spirits of inspiration so much so that without them, our motivation falls like a brick(I prefer a brick to a stone on this occasion). And the point is that why are we so reliant on our muse?

In reality(at least this one) being subservient to a bodily function seems to be akin to reverting to being a toddler. We get to train our bodies to wait for us to eat, sleep, exercise, go to the toilet and even breath(should you be a pearl diver or sewerage worker) but our creative mind gets to be waited upon like Cleopatra until it feelshappy enough to help us out.

So the answer to all this is either in blaming our parents for only toilet training us as a toddler(which is always a good excuse to a board of directors) or to work out exactly what the muse needs (may be alcohol, hard drugs, maths books or monopoly money) and then withold this until you have a better exchange policy. Blackmail always seems to be a good option, right?

Feasible?

I'm out of other inspirations I think I might just blame the parents.

2 comments:

little bird said...

jesus squiggledy goodness, i love the way your mind works.

here, here, i raise my glass to you mister fine... in solidarity shall we kick our muse's arses and declare the state of cleopatra no more... streaming live to you from the world of, 'there's no such thing as writer's block, only laziness and lack of hard work.' riiiiiiiiiight. tell that to someone on their fiftieth day without a word from their pen who's holding a polo club in one hand and a seal in the other, hey? :D

Mister Fine said...

I think blaming parents is the best we come up with for now, otherwise it's just alcohol, music and lava lamps. To tell you the truth I'm a little worried about that seal.