Hergest Ridge

On the account of failing to inspire: Guilty.

Sometimes it’s easier to work towards inspiring those we’ll never see, than those right before us. Many reasons come to mind as to why this might be the case:

One only hears about the success stories. If someone sees, reads or hears your work and feels unmoved, they pass without notice – you don’t even know they exist.

Then, there is this expectation that through simple presence, inspiration will rub off on those around, like newspaper ink inevitably does on everything it touches.

And perhaps the link that holds the two former is the idea that to try to inspire someone at hand is some sort of pressure tactic – or worse – trying to change them; Not “listening”, but instead talking at them.

Just a thought.

 
“Oh wearisome condition of humanity!
Born under one law, to another bound:
Vainly begot, and yet forbidden vanity;
Created sick, commanded to be sound.”
 
– Richard Fulke Greville

I’ve decided to sharply cut back on alcohol for a few days, but this reduced alcohol trial is not working out so well.

I think unclouded reality makes my mind drift, and I pay far less attention to what is actually going on. After I’ve had a few, I know damn well to pay attention, even when not exactly sure what it is that I’m paying attention to.

Shit – I forget what I was going to say.

I’ve retweeted without shame, but what about reblogging? Are retweets and reblogs just another way of saying “Hey, look: I’ve plagiarised this”?

“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best — ” and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.

What is that feeling called?

Maybe then I can finally explain it to others, those that offer me strange glances when I happen to mention it in conversation somewhere between “my dog died” and “the broken leg is not healing right – the doctors will have to break it again.”

Anyway, reblogged from monicks: unleashed, who – judging by her blog and to put it in Woody Allen’s words – is a credit to our race.