Sometimes I am inspired by those who surround me, those who indulge themselves in every aspect of my life, who curl around my words as all my stories unfold. Those who speak solemn words when I am leaking internally and exposing my irritated eyes, those who have savage hair, threaded eyebrows and a closet full of boxer-briefs, but ocassionally I am surprised.
I am pushed down cement roads and brick pathways only to find musicians playing guitar down subway steps, songs of sunshine's and tomorrow's spilling out of railways into seperate train carts pushing and pulling into all ends of the city. I am inspired by this stranger, and by the woman sitting next to me, by the man with three children and the addict in the corner.
I have never met you, but my wandering mind will assume more than it knows, it will explain the irrational and create a story that unravels as I scribble down words on a notepad. You are my inspiration, as is the color of the moon, the waves the grass makes when the wind blows, and all the lies you've ever told.
I blog because I am alive, I am alive because I am inspired.
