Apr '15 15

Wonderwalls The North Wall. Photo by Robert Rath from Robert's website.

I wasn't feeling particularly inspired today and half-started a few things which may eventually turn into other things. So today's offering is almost an anti-poem; well, a bit of prose really. And speaking of inspiration: Calliope was one of the nine muses, and her particular domain was epic poetry.

Date with Calli

She prances into my office, barely glancing at me, and drops her black Prada handbag on top of the messy piles of paper on my desk. She sits down on the only other chair in the room, flashing red sole as she crosses her Louboutin'd legs, and carefully pats her fashionably mussed 500-dollar-haircut tresses. Miss me? She grins as she lights a slim Vogue cigarette. I shake my head. The dull, half-written, unedited piles of crappy copy seem to shift and shimmer and grow all around me. She arches one perfectly-plucked eyebrow. She could be auditioning for a movie, the way she’s carrying on. I don't need you, I mutter. I'm doing just fine on my own. She takes a deep drag of her cigarette, purses her rouge-Dior'd lips and exhales in my direction. She mouths: I. Don't. Think. So. Wait, what was that? A nicotine hit with…unmistakeably peaty overtones. You've been drinking, I snarl. Lucky you. Except that's not useful to me. She smirks and looks around the room; then she winces. She actually winces. Well, I need inspiration too, you know. This isn't exactly a creator's paradise. She stares at me, then jumps to her feet. I have an idea! She stubs out her cigarette on a cracked saucer on my desk, grabs her bag in one hand and my arm with the other. You're coming with me. I know just the place to kickstart you and me. Get your coat and your notebook; we're going to the pub right now. What could I do? When the Muse proposes, you acquiesce. And that's when she and I first got scuttered together.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

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