Sunday, November 15, 2009


This is a tribute to non-inspiration. It sings of the unimaginative. In this hollow dullness I wonder if something will come. The wondering itself is blank and motionless. It is like a white wall. A clean-wiped chalkboard. It is like a pseudo-calm, which gives the brain rest from its mode of heightened creativity, that is, when it comes. But these are times when the tide is low and the waves are mere ripples. It is an overcast day without wind, rain, or sun. It is like a dreamless sleep. Its beauty rests in the contrast it gives to those times of ease in spilling out witty and eloquent thoughts onto the page. They gush all over the place. You think you will be able to go on writing this way forever, but then, the silence. It will only last for a little while. The canvas of mediocrity will again attract a color here and a texture there until it becomes a beautiful piece of art. Let's hear it for non-inspiration!
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