Beam me up, Inspiration!

This morning, I was on the lookout for things to write about. I must inform you, with a heavy yet completely understanding heart (i.e., a heart that has come to terms with its owner's propensity to not do what he decides to do), that the mission was a colossal failure. In contemporary cinematic terms, my mission was like the Persian in 300 who goes to Sparta to deliver Xerxes’ message to Leonidas. It was pushed into the well of inexistence by the lord of inertia. In simple terms, I was too lazy. My eye moved with the enthusiasm of cat which has slept only one out of its mandated eighteen hours of sleep, my mind registered things with the accuracy of a schizophrenic with severe ADD and my hand and pen never made it to the scheduled tripartite meeting with the notebook I had taken along with me on my mission.

So, when, this night, I sit down to type the words I promised myself I would type, my mind is as blank as a newly opened Microsoft Word document. Or, for that matter, a blank sheet of paper. You get the point.

I wish I could say that a magical gateway into the Imaginarium of Doctor Rajasekhar opened up and thousands of words tumbled out, intertwining and mating with each other to produce, in their moments of exquisite orgasm, sentences of infinite beauty and immeasurable intelligence. Sentences which have attained the pinnacle of sentence perfection, Aryan sentences of which the Hitler of Grammar Nazis would’ve been proud.

However, all I can, in fact, say is that I’m still looking for something to write about.

And you have to understand how lame that is for a non-writer to say. It’s like a teetotaler going to an AA meeting and saying….. No. It’s worse. It’s like an Indian virgin impotent guy barging into a porn convention heavily populated with Ron Jeremy’s ilk who are in the process of loudly complaining about how, in their old age, their boats don’t float and pronouncing, loudly, his, well, impotence.

Inspiration, if you're out there and coyly and playfully looking upon this attempt to kick-start my scooter of creativity, I implore you, visit me. In the dead of night. For that's when, like a thief pottering around a house picking up items that seize his fancy, I scuttle around the vast barren lands of my imagination looking for an oasis of words.