So the other night, I watched some of an interview with David Bowie (courtesy of my boyfriend) during his Ziggy Stardust years. Unfortunately I can’t seem to find it again, but that’s not the point. He was talking about his music, what inspires him, and how he feels like when he meets new people, he feels like he absorbs their experiences, their personalities, and that he’s just a well of other personalities, etc. As some of you may or may not know, I’ve really been struggling with writing. To put it bluntly, and vaguely, I more or less fired the best of my life a few years ago, and ever since, unless I’m writing about some sort of loss or recollection of that muse, I feel like I’m pulling out empty pockets whenever I look at a piece of paper or a a word document. Nothing seems to come to me. And listening to Bowie talk, watching his facial expressions, and feeling, remotely, like he did, really fired up something inside of me that I thought left long ago. So I started writing. I only have a couple of two line stanzas so far, but I feel like I’ve come in contact with that part of me that has long since become something foreign and unfamiliar. We’ll see how far I get with it and if it I finish it, I may share a few lines.