Inspiration Nation

It is hard to be inspired to write on this blog.  It’s not breaking any barriers or bringing grown men to tears.  Neither is it healing broken hearts and stimulating stagnant minds.  It’s not that I want men to cry after they read my blog really, but I’ll take it.  It’d be cool to see a tough frat guy collapse in a heap and tremble with adoration.  Ok, this is becoming creepy.  I don’t want to act like Jesus.  It’s just that I never know if I’ll ever be able to touch the lives of others.  I don’t really want to change their lives or make them abandon their homes to live in a commune and drink purple kool-aid while doing exercises.  Basically, there is some sort of need for the exchange that comes with artist and spectator. Could it be validation?  Could it be the need for endless attention that comes with exceedingly low self-esteem and disgust with one’s face and every mirror in their house is broken from smashing it drunkenly while calling themself failure over and over again?  Sure.  Those could both be it.

Point is man is that there is a need for art like the need for food - I’m burning with the need and my nerve filled stomach is always on the brink of eruption. 

The feeling of being touched by someone’s art is always fleeting (even with music sometimes we tire of a tune we once died for), but I have faith that even though the initial jolt passes, it forever becomes part of someone’s (short) life experience.  I just want to be able to touch someone positively in that way.

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