Poets, Rockers, and Revolutionaries

You might be wondering what those people are doing there. Well they’re there because they’ve earned it. That I’m displaying their mugs doesn’t mean I’ve earned the right. But in these days of quickies, fastfoods, and scams, I will provide no excuses. Call it a whim, or anything, just not random.

These pics were taken off the internet. If anybody has a problem with that, just leave a comment and I’ll take the picture down, no questions asked. Or I could just ignore you.

Actually these are guys (most of them dead) who have greatly contributed to how I think or more specifically to how I write, mediocrity not being an excuse not to write; at least in my case.

Allen Ginsberg made me write really long lines and gave me courage to read those same lines to my mother who couldn’t be bothered to hear me out as she was watching a Judy Ann Santos soap at that time. Hmm, that probably is one of the standing reasons why I don’t care much for the girl. Neruda had me falling in love over and over again (with various women?? that is a secret I’d never tell). Marquez had me wishing that his books were much much thicker. Oh to hear Janis wail, or Jim croon, or to watch Kurt play his bass once again. And Jimi, who can play the guitar better than Jimi?

Alexander will always have me thinking about poetic justice, Ayn Rand made me believe in heroes, or supermen. Che made me want to go to South America.

Inspiration is everywhere. One can never want for inspiration. Just open your eyes.