I’ve hit a proverbial wall for inspiration. I’ve been on such a holiday writing roll as of late I haven’t been paying attention to life’s subtleties that I typically cite for inspiration. Now I’m thinking that if I keep looking at my computer screen, some sort of WiFi connectivity osmosis may take place and something will pop in to my head. Its been 15 minutes and the only thing I’ve gotten from my computer is a personal best on Plants vs Zombies and a few unfunny Tweets. My next step is actually eating the F6 key (the human appendix of a keyboard ). I try typing a few words then immediately slam my middle finger down on ‘BACKSPACE’. One, so I can erase the incoherence of the paragraph and two so I can give the finger to my computer for not bestowing me my inspiration.
The ancient Roman poet, Ovid, said of inspiration, “The glow of inspiration warms us; it is a holy rapture”. Easy for him to say, he was partying in bathhouses and watching gladiatorial combat. Inspiration, like the Goths or a Gladius to your midsection, were all around him.
I have no such luck, wooden sword, or invitations to parties tonight. The snoring dog who sounds like an idling Harley Davidson Fatboy with Dyna exhaust pipes is lying next to me. My overweight cat is meowing in the kitchen for a Fancy Feasts’ midnight snack. My wife and kids fast asleep upstairs and Dr. Drew is on VH-1 trying to dry out his latest batch of celebrities.
Nothing like D-minus-List Celebrities going through detox to stir up the mind so I turn my attention from my uncooperative computer to Celebrity Rehab. Dr. Drew is having a conversation with Rachel Uchitel. I have to ‘Google’ her because my local television weatherman would be considered a celebrity according to VH-1 so I have no idea who she is. Apparently her claim to fame is being one of Tiger Woods’ harem (does this make the Denny’s waitress a celebrity too?). I spend more time than I should on Google Images then close out the World Wide Web (when I hear my wife stir). I start typing a fleeting thought about who is and who is not a celebrity these days. Blah, blah, blah, type, type, type, Rachel Uchitel. BACKSPACE. Middle finger.
My next thought is to create an ode to Cliff Lee. Knee deep the holiday and NFL season, all any of us could talk about this week was the newly signed Phillies pitcher. Of course! Let’s talk about Cliff Lee. I love the Phillies at least as much as most of my relatives. This will be easy. Thank you Mr. Lee. Blah, blah, blah, type, type, type, Cliff Lee. BACKSPACE. Big middle finger.
I’m tempted to wake up the kids. Either one would do for a quick spark of creativity and inspiration. But waking up the kids would wake up their mother which could result in a whole other type of story, one I might have to explain to the Exeter Township Police Department before blogging about. So I search for gladiators somewhere else.
I keep looking around my living room trying to find something but I’m not sure there is anything here. I do have my narcoleptic dog. I do have my wife and kids who, despite the antibiotics sitting on my counter, are all generally healthy and sleeping soundly. I have the only lights in the living room wrapped around the stair railing and Christmas tree. I have everything in order. I have the stress of another day over. I have 30 days of grace periods to pay on my bills. I have a cat who may have an eating disorder. I have a Christmas tree with gifts underneath it. I guess I didn’t need gladiators, Rachel Uchitel, or Cliff Lee. I just needed to look harder.