I’m an easily inspired person. I don’t need much to feel bursts of creative energy, sensations that are all-encompassing and all-consuming, like I imagine how whiskey feels for a whiskey lover on a cold and long day. For me, this feeling is elicited by many things – like the scene in Call Me By Your Name where Elio, his father and Oliver playfully go swimming after extracting the kouros sculpture from the bottom of Lake Garda, or listening to Leif Vollebekk’s Twin Solitutde, uninterrupted, from start to finish. Even staring out the window into nothingness; Jesus, that can really get me going.

There’s one big problem though. Every time I feel this way, where I’ve summoned all the creative energy possible, like I could conquer anything and unlock all the creative potential that I so badly chase, it all comes crashing down. Why? Well, it’s pretty simple. I have no idea what to do with the creativity. I’m holding on to a lit match, unable to find a candle and instead feeling how the fire comes closer and closer, burning the tip of my fingers until I finally let go, and the room turns dark.

This darkness scares the shit out of me, and I kind of feel like I’m running out of matches, or that I’ll remain in the darkness forever. The likelihood of both happening is slim, I know, but still, it’s a daunting feeling and one I’m so desperately trying to avoid.

This, me writing right now, is an attempt to finally bring some light to the room. Who knows if it’s going to work, and basing it off my previous attempts, the probability of it being succesful is slim-to-none. But what the heck, I’ve got nothing to lose – just an eternity trapped in the silent umbra. Besides, I’m starting to get really pissed off by the godforsaken hellhole that is procrastination – away with you, sayonara, the power of Christ compels you!

I’ll keep you posted on the progress. Where the hell are those matches?