Inspired by…

[on_the_verge]

It looks like it's a slow cooker on Lit tonight, but in lieu of that:

What inspires you? Are there people or things in your life that take your breath away or please you, finding that your hunger to do things or feel a certain way motivates you?

People inspire me, from strangers to friends. Although, I am inspired deeply by people and affection within my mind and my sensuality.

 

[lilminx]

What inspires you? Are there people or things in your life that take your breath away or please you, finding that your hunger to do things or feel a certain way motivates you?

Men, in general, inspire me. I love 'em.

 

[on_the_verge]

Re: Re: Inspired by…

Men, in general, inspire me. I love 'em.

Good girl! Yet, is there more? I see you corrected your coding too.

 

[lilminx]

Hmmm.... I can't really think of anything else that inspires me, other than my thoughts. i'm not a very creative person, so I guess i don't need much inspiration.

 

[lavender]

 

[T.H. Oughts]

What inspires you?

How art work evolved over the centuries and how people produced it under the conditions they lived in with the tools they had.... you ever seen a carved Celtic button..... amazing...

I can not help but want to write about those kinds of things and bring them into this century with a conteporary look to them

I think being an artist and writer makes me explore and this follows through into my sensual being

 

[Svedish_Chef]

Intelligence.

Certain people of this board like that purple colour up there...

 

[lavender]

 

[Svedish_Chef]

You just love to kiss my ass, don't you?

With an ass looking like that, fuck yeah.

And you had to catch me in spelling mistake too.

I mean every word.

 

[MissTaken]

I am most inspired by sadness and tragedy. That sounds absolutely morbid, but it is when my heart is low that I find myself writing and sketching most often and most freely.

I seldom share the writings as they are just too damn depressing when I look at them in hind sight.

And who needs that?


BTW, lavender....with that ass, who wouldn't want to kiss it?

 

[lobito]

BTW, lavender....with that ass, who wouldn't want to kiss it?

nice response there Miss Taken. I wouldn't mind somadat myself.

 

[on_the_verge]

Lavender thank you for a thought provoking response and I enjoy the way you share. THIS is what inspires me I would imagine. There is this inspiration that comes to me from "women" above all, yes "men" isnspire you the same Lilminx, but it's more than the essence and ideals of a woman that can create what neurons and synapses fire in my mind.

Although it may appear to embrace a sensuality and not what actually inspires me beyond it, women are the ones that twist and turn in my dreams to perchance a sharing and offering of what could swell and be given. I was terrible at English—still am—and I was closed with my thoughts and the stigma I was "foreign" and less in this country. Through my relationships I developed communication and growing. My ex, who is a painter, gave me Henry Miller books and wanted me to further my thoughts, knowing my sensuality was deep. I saw her paintings and the way the creative eye visualized forms, lines and shapes to create art. Although, it was her intelligence and the way she carried life, absent from the nebulous society of money and power. Sometimes we focus too deeply on social issues without understanding our own. In respect, I know my body, every line, curve and imperfection. I have delved into myself, beyond myself. People do this to me, they question me, give me laughter, allow me not to be so wordy and share in the very moments that give me happiness and sadness.

Being online has inspired me a great deal. People reach out and open up because they want to share, be nioticed, respected and appreiciated. I can't say being on Lit truely inspires me or effects me to write and to create. Sometimes the intagibilities are left, like discarded clothing without the owner or home. But, I want a home or to rent one within a persons heart. Be it the friendships I have fostered or a one time love. The city inspires me and this is why:
Overlooking Manhattan, the skies are hues of blue and gray as the night settles into the hemisphere. Buildings begin to ignite their glow like lanterns. The outlines of structures become nebulous. The streets fill with crowds after a day of light-artificial as well as natural. Darkness begins to blanket where there was once sunlight-shadows forming adding more depth. An aircraft streaks across the sky breaking the plane between day and night.

Overlooking the city once again, it appears surreal but,, there are events occurring that my blinded eye from across the river fails to notice. The river below is shimmering against the evening. In the city there are people: shopping, walking, dying, laughing, crying, fucking, sitting, and at times aimlessly existing. Existing cohesively together yet, alone in this great metropolis.

Outlines of a factory pipe stretching into the darkness, into the heavens above melting into the night becoming one with it. A tugboat drives through the water breaking the glow from the lanterns above. Shimmering lights from the city in a tango with the river.

Ironic, my last love crosses my mind. Heather Bruce-painter crusader of a simpler life. I am seeing how we were different in the past but, I now see a connection between us. I am now painting, exploring the realms of mixed media in it's traditional form with paint. Crossing boundaries that never surfaced while we together. I see, the eye of the artist, to create from one's soul, to communicate what it feels. To thrust all it's pleasures and sorrows into a misguided society. Painting, exploring simple forms, breaking apart complexity into simplicity. Undertaking a painters inner thoughts and encompassing that into what I see, hear, smell and feel. Assessing life in it's raw form from Wall Street to Canarsie.

The sky is melting into darkness and I am at peace with the progression of the day into night as a new life begins: Bright lights, big city. I need love to nurture my thoughts and to gather warmth into my hardened eyes. To shed my inner thoughts and cultivate sharing, despairing, laughter, relinquishing each other into an orgy of complexity and simplicity. to gather or form two lives into one while seeking individual needs and goals.

Over looking the city from afar, once again. The contrast of structures diminishing it's daylight form. The duality of it's existence between darkness and light. Soaking in the juxtaposition of night and day conscious thoughts into subconscious thoughts.

Discovering once again that my thoughts drift towards Heather but, my desires are leading else where. Our lives are full circle in it's raw form but, not content. We part realizing ourselves of our burdens-two souls to connected with each other in a way that is an enigma. Shall we finally discover our true meaning in this city now that we are apart? We will cherish our love from and of each other always. Perhaps we will find it in other lovers or other souls. The question is: Does our bond provoke a future reuniting or is forever locked in memories and dreams?

The night releases the day with it's inner glow from the city as the day radiates the earth with it's rays of light-rays that beach goers seek, rays that bring hope and rays that bring life-to some. the dead will never appreciate life as their souls travel to a plane where there is no light and no darkness.

I am alone now, just like Washington D.C. Forever discovering my soul, tearing it apart, placing it back together and viewing it from myself. Unlike the comfort of friends who give me warmth but, also blind me from my actual purpose in life. Our lives are different but, I am forever trapped in the need to expand myself beyond needs of others into realizing that once I fulfill my needs I will be able to offer it to others unconditionally. I am alone to analyze my own thought process to rationalize my actions and my reactions.

It is confidence we seek in others but, what we are asking is confidence within ourselves using other to bolster our inner thoughts-may it be subjective or relative. Confidence relates within us internally and no one can one-handedly provide it or dismiss it.. It is something that expands over a life time and even then very few understand it. Confidence is a gift to one's own soul-promising that one will provide for one's self without sacrificing one's purpose in life. When an individual is at peace, an inertia of developing processes in life. That individual will be able to provide to others as one has provided in one's self. That person will share with others in it's raw form slicing, penetrating reality from one's conscience. When I say conscience, I am implying the that we all seek in our selves and it does not encompass what we do and feel daily but, what we do when we dream. Where R.E.M. sleep is a vessel to what we actually see and desire in life.

Cloaked within "darkness" lies our inner soul that we reveal daily. It is hidden or obscured by society. We all have something to gain in life but, how we go about it is a direct reflection of where we see ourselves in life or how we prefer to project ourselves.

I am still at the Northside Cafe overlooking this city. My dinner arrives- filet minion. It is delicious, savory tender, and appealing to my senses. I had to close my eyes to each wonderful morsel. Within my mouth the vegetables, potatoes, steak sang a harmonious symphony. The crispiness of the vegetables is the tension in life, the potatoes (mashed) are how everything melds together and the steak is the is the heart of all that is apparent, may it be hidden or apparent. It is like life, all the same as the content is the same but, the form is changed....


Whoa! Deep thinking here, but don't read into too much as I enjoy being light and less complex as I can be or choose not to be.

 

[lavender]

 

[Wiggles]

Ok, how did on the verge type all of that AND keep his cookies?

I'm jealous!

 

[on_the_verge]

Ok, how did on the verge type all of that AND keep his cookies?

I'm jealous!

I usually pull my cookies out of my ass, double fudge nut cookies with almonds at that, ha!

You mock me with your jealousy <<;-)>>, but my cookies taste good and are fun to eat!

 

[on_the_verge]

I can completely relate to this. I have always believed that turmoil and strife lead to the best art. When people are absolutely at the bottom of the barrel that's when they create from the soul. I'm not sure this is correct I'm sure happiness and contentment can breed amazing creations. However, I am not touched by them for the most part.

Music is a perfect example. I don't like baroque or classical period music because I feel no matter how technically perfect and new and wonderful they are, they cannot speak to my soul. They seem a bit shallow. They are crisp and clean. I want murky, I want bombastic, I want amazingly emotive pieces such as Wagner, Brahms, later Beethoven, Tschaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, etc.

These are the things that inspire me. I must agree with you MissTaken.

And you, my dear, may kiss my ass anytime. I'm always ready and willing.

Ride of the Valkryes is one my favorites, but I also associate it to what was it…Full Metal Jacket…no, it was? Not that military movies solely interest me, been there, ugh!

 

[horny_giraffe]

... Whoa! Deep thinking here, but don't read into too much as I enjoy being light and less complex as I can be or choose not to be.

No need for self-depreciation. You write nicely.

I can understand how you frame your sensuality. I consider myself very sensual--it manifests itself in my love and appreciation for the arts. I don't paint or sculpt or make music--but I love to go to the art museums and see dance performances and plays and concerts.

It has taken me a long time to overcome the jealous envy that I once felt for those who have worked hard to gain the skills to exploit their talents. An understanding of art can create the illusion that these skills and accomplishments are personally attainable. Perhaps, in some sense, one can practice at any age to become a skillful artist. But there are always choices in life. The biggest cost of any undertaking is the infinite number of opportunities that have been set aside.

Now, although I feel that most of us have seen better, the amateur artists of the world do deserve some appreciation. I may not write a poem that can be compared to Robert Frost or Emily Dickenson--but it is something that I wrote. Someone may create comic strips and illustrations that may seem mediocre when compared to the pathos of Stan Lee's Spiderman, but they are far too easily set aside by those who have seen better.

In many ways, the amateur artists and creators of the world can be the most inspiring of all. Unlike some ubermensch artist such as Shakespeare, the amateur artist reminds us that the creation of art is not only about accomplishment, but occupation and identity. By identifying herself as a writer, a woman becomes a de facto member of the larger community of writers regardless of her acceptance or rejection by the more prestigous members. An amateur artist reminds me that art doesn't need to be reduced to the worship of untouchable masterpieces, but can also be about intimacy and warmth of creating and appreciating in the context of a community.