Over the weekend I started to feel like I was in a little bit of a creative rut. I think it's easy, as we're focusing on getting to and from work, cleaning the house in the aftermath of holidays and winter vacations, battling flu outbreaks, to forget to just feel inspired on a regular basis.
I used to keep sketchbooks where I'd write down random thoughts and ideas, sketch little abstract figures and designs, and glue in interesting clippings from all over. Now I tend to keep a writer's notebook that is much more focused if not in subject matter, then certainly in content. The pages are filled with, well, scribbly writing. When given license to keep whatever sort of artist's diary I can, I've chosen to be a writer for now.
However, I'd like to use this blog as my sketchbook for the month of February, including one thing every day that inspires me. It might be a poem, a lyric, a photo from my day, a performance, a joke -- anything.
Today -- as I do many days -- I found myself admiring John Darnielle's lyrics. He fronts a band called the Mountain Goats, who are somewhat little-known but have a pretty sizable cult following. My husband hates the Mountain Goats. A lot. And I'll grant anyone the truth, that John Darnielle isn't the world's best guitarist or singer, the instrumentations on my favorite songs are pretty sparse, and in general the music may be an acquired taste. But his lyrics are very honest and literate and descriptive in a way that I feel gets to the very core of his subject matter. In anything I write, I hope to achieve those passages that can cut through you like a knife -- I think we all do. Anyway, here are the words to one of my favorite songs by the Mountain Goats: Old College Try from their album Tallahassee. I particularly love the simile at the end.
From the housetops to the gutters
From the ocean to the shore
The warning signs have all been bright and garish
Far too great in number to ignore
From the cities to the swamplands
From the highways to the hills
Our love has never had a leg to stand on
From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elevils
But I will walk down to the end with you
If you will come all the way down with me
From the entrance to the exit
Is longer than it looks from where we stand
I want to say I'm sorry for stuff I haven't done yet
Things will shortly get completely out of hand
I can feel it in the rotten air tonight
In the tips of my fingers
In the skin on my face
In the weak last gasp of the evening's dying light
In the way those eyes I've always loved illuminate this place
Like a trash can fire in a prison cell
Like the searchlights in the parking lots of hell
I will walk down to the end with you
If you will come all the way down with me
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