A story about nothing: searching for inspiration

I combed the streets of the Rongai searching for inspiration. Looking at every grimy street as though it would generate something I had never seen in the past, pausing to scrutinize the shops willing them to produce an epiphany. Taking a moment to gaze at the sun set like I had just dropped from a long forgotten romantic movie trying to find in the beauty of nature, a motivation to love. I smiled at strangers, gave the nod to guys in the hood and waved at children. They looked at me like I was mad.

I walked still. Pretending to be partial to the wind blowing at my hair, thinking I must look sensational, like something that needs to be framed, yet very aware of the dust that was not being kind to my eyes. I knew they would gripe later, but what was one sore eye to the surge of ideas? To words oozing out of my brain, refusing to be contained? Ideas gnawing at me, not letting me stifle them? Not much, I concluded.

I passed ‘kibandas’ that smelled of hard work (read sweat), shops that sold everything, hawkers seeking to make a living, idlers waiting for manna to fall from heaven, children, women, men, all actively involved in the cycle of life, each of them, performing their every day dance, perfectly and harmoniously executing their moves with unpracticed expertise. I wondered about the stories of some of them and mused at the differences that made them unique. But none of them cut it.

I was done for! I could not find a muse!

I combed the online streets looking for motivation. Staring at every FaceBook wall like it was my own, pausing to think over status updates willing them to pull the trigger. Every once in a while, I responded to a friend request, liked an update I thought interesting and shared a link to a blog I liked. This all felt practiced. Faked.

I searched still. Groaning at really bad puns that I came across, laughing at awkward attempts at humor. Seriously, some jokes, are just magical comics. Hehe.. I mean, if they are funny, it is a miracle! Ok, so it is not that good, but then again, I do not take credit. I Googled (yes, this is a word), I doodled, Nothing!

I was done for! I could not find a muse!

I hear they call it writer’s block.