i don’t know that i get it, and i don’t know that i get it; i can breath in of course, but i’m talking about the thing and things that make us create and for whom we do it, and is an ‘urge’ the same thing as being inspired……i found a random splurge on the internet a while ago that begins with an urge, and wonder whether it was inspired by the intended recipient, or they just happened to be someone to whom the author could write; and whether, due to the very fact i’m writing about it, it is itself inspiring……it went something like this:


“i’ve an urge to write…i’ve had one for a fairish while now but never actually even attempted to start; if through the same old problem of not knowing where to start, a lethargy brought on by not starting sooner, thinking i should get my jobs done first and then really not having the energy to do anything, or by some deep-seated knowledge that it’s probably just not that wise a thing to do for some reason that undoubtedly i know about but refuse to acknowledge….i think it’s the last one………..though i am pretty tired after doing all my jobs……………………………………………………………………………’s the last one. 

“so here’s me ignoring that, and apologising for the opening five words of this email – which i haven’t really made up my mind yet whether i’ll actually send – this is without doubt the greatest piece of nonsense you’ll read in this email; even when i wrote it i knew it wasn’t true, and that was two weeks ago! like i’d continue to albeit sporadically spout and then not send it……to you of all people is quite beyond the wit of man – though this is questioned later on – i toyed with removing this little interlude as it breaks the flow and timbre of this particular outpouring and its subsequent impact but then i thought fuck it; the apology can include this bit too – – – – which are a little pretentious, giving an air that this is some kind of milieu of mine; that i’ve been taken away from the very essence of my life, or it from me, as the result of a not over-draconian prescription resulting from a precise diagnosis drawn from the unequivocal symptom of a man not merely biting the hand that feeds him but conducting a thorough and prolonged sequence of ever increasingly painful and humiliating methods of torture upon it, and that for my own safety and of others around me, the ability to put pen to paper has been denied me… me……but now i feel i’m cured, or at least on the road to recovery anyway; i’ve not only seen the errors of my ways but accepted them, processed them and devised a sure-fire way of redeeming myself unto them, i’ve talked about them, through them and to them and we’ve reached an understanding that not all will be understood, but most, and the rest shall never be ignored nor over indulged, drenched nor droughted, stuffed nor starved, but coaxed and encouraged and curtailed when need be, maybe understood at a later date, kept warm, left for the next in line to fathom; shelved but dusted, and that since one’s demons are inherent to one’s being, one must up and at them when the time is right; hence a return to the quaggy mire that is words and their simple placement of one after the other, learning to walk again after mistaking one’s legs for…..things that aren’t legs………like i say; still learning……….but it’s ok because this is not the medium of my survival and all you’ve just read relates not, hence the apology for the opening five words of this email…if only there was some way i could take them back? unwrite them maybe? delete them? i’d have to delete a whole lot more if so…i’ll stick with the apology…..i may delete this last bit though; it’s become quite dull…….i’ll just move on.”


it goes absolutely nowhere; it’s akin to trench warfare, a whole lot of fuss and carnage only to make negligible ground, is that inspired: it’s taken a starting point i.e. the simple feeling of an urge to write, and then proceeds to take it back; ground has in fact been lost….does the result of inspiration reflect on that which inspired it, to at least those who were not intended to experience it: do we assume the recipient appreciated this email or did they think it was a load of bollocks; and why not both, for it is not beyond the wit of man to guess at the load from some bollocks having never not gone unappreciated; ipso facto this single ejaculation could well have been appreciated, and inspired the birth of a reply….even if that be only a kiss

i think, as with everything – if i stumble on an exception before this is posted i shall insert ‘just about’ before ‘ everything’, and then i will make a decision as to whether i delete this bit that i’ve just written – i’m inspired by the above email to simply leave it regardless – – it entirely depends; in this case that dependence is on the definition, or at least the insinuation expounded on it, of the word inspiration….and since the definition of inspiration is far too vague to avoid making it anything but an entirely subjective concept, we are left with opinion, and if someone deems something to be inspiring – although the caveat with that is that they actually have to do something once inspiration is proclaimed – then they have brought it into existence and an inspiring piece of work is born from just a piece of work – what abominations may subsequently arise in the name of said work could leave the adjective unwanted, but this is by the bye

so it seems that with regards to inspiration, i get it and am getting it; i may fully get it; this may be all there is to get; i’ve certainly moved from my original position, although i’m less certain of whether i’ve gained ground or lost it

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  1. Never get your jobs done first.
    Drenched nor droughted…stuffed nor starved.
    An inspirational look at inspiration.

  2. I miss you.

  1. it’s 9.14 pm where thatch is « sacha1nch1

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