Slothful Inspiration

Yesterday I took a much needed lazy day and the snow and wind outside encouraged indoor pursuits, filling me with a desire to nap. After a whirlwind week of home trailer repair, working on the barn office floor, taming a large(and vengeful) thornbush, raking the vegetable garden, and a visit from Mr. W.'s cousin(great fun!But I think next time, I will forego the butter on the movie popcorn. The after-effects were part of the lazy day inspiration), a day of lounging on the couch with a heating pad on my sore, knotted shoulder was wonderful.

What did I do? Obviously, I did not blog. I did read (Middlemarch, my continuing attempt at filling the literary gaps in my education), but mainly, I channeled my inner sofa vegetable, occasionaly straining my clicker-finger.

I watched part of Avatar and my favorite pieces of The Proposal- how I love that movie. I flicked back and forth, until, perusing the guide, I found Immortal Beloved on the Indie channel.

It's one of my favorite flicks. There is no one who can do genius/crazy like Gary Oldman. Imagine my delight, when in the beginning scenes. I recognized the square in front of Prague Castle. So there I was, lounging on my couch, sharing an afternoon with Beethoven and Prague.

Being the dork that I am, I grabbed my Kindle and downloaded the writings of Herr Ludwig and read excerpts as I listened to the dialogue. Very interesting. Very, very enlightening. I scratched just the surface, but I found ideas as stunning and complex as his music. And of course, there is the ideal of his "Unsterbliche Geliebte" (Immortal Beloved). And no one knows who she was.

So where did all this creative stirring take me?

I would love to say that it inspired a frenzy of ideas, sending me screaming to my computer to relieve the pressure of my fecund imagination, birthing exiting stories and pages of brilliance.

It did stir things up a bit. I jotted down a few new thoughts. Then watched The Bounty Hunter. Yeah. That killed all intellectual stimulation. I could feel my Muse writhing in the corners. I think she had a few vivid homicidal thoughts directed at yours truly during that irretreivable hour-and-a half. Though maybe she hated me more when I attempted "Moonlight Sonata" on my severely out-of-tune piano. Pathetic. I know. Especially when you consider that in the many, many, tortuous years of lessons, some at a reputable music school, I never mastered reading music...

There are always recordings by people who can actually play Beethoven and the books on my Kindle to relight the creative flame. Despite the dousing of the creative flame by stale romantic comedy, ideas are still swirling around my Muse, who is desparately trying to capture and tame them into something coherent.

I'll let you know how that works out.