I've been twisting my brains to come up with an ending for a story I've been trying to write. I just can't seem to find the perfect ending. So, i decided to chuck it and do it another time. Twenty minutes later and 3 chicken rolls later, i wanted to write another story. Wasn't thinking of anything but i just wanted to create a story. I sleep better when i know that I've written some awesome shit.

I sat playing with the drawer on my desk for about fifteen minutes before i took out a pen and paper and finally got down to writing. OK, so I've got a fresh new piece of paper, a brand new pen, it's raining outside and i can still taste the chicken in my mouth ( and the cigarette). Perfect conditions to start writing. Begin. Ah, hmmm, Ahem, Okay, brrr, blah, burp, argh!

Blank. Completely blank. Nothing at all. The paper staring at me like a virgin cunt. Suddenly i was having a mental conversation with the paper.

Paper: Take me, put that blue pen on my lines and splash it with ink.
Me: uhh?
Paper: I'm waiting to feel the hardness of that tip on my soft, soft surface. Take out your shiny pen and ink me.
Me: uhh?
Paper: What are you ? Fucking dumb? Write you asshole. I'm not going to color myself.
Me: Sigh. I can't do it.

I put the paper back in the drawer and decided to go to bed. Guess, I'm just stressing myself out too much. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to write something. I lay there and stare at the ceiling for a while, then the fan, then the clock, then the walls. Great! I can't sleep.

That's when the windchime hanging near the bathroom door caught my eye. I started staring at it. The spiral colors were somehow making me happy. That's when i started thinking about where i got it from and then i started thinking about that time, i was in Bangalore. I had just had lunch with my sister and was walking up to Brigade road with a friend. I stopped at the huge handicrafts store because i saw something trippy. This hand-made spiral wooden windchime with rainbow colors was hanging there. I needed to have it. It was too trippy.

I smiled after thinking about that day. I slowly closed my eyes, feeling a lot more relaxed. My mind was slowly shutting down. But wait, that's it. I don't need to create a story tonight. I don't need to create random characters or interesting story-lines. I had found an interesting source of inspiration.

Things around your house can inspire you. Not in a spiritual way but, artistically. Each object, each material thing around your house has a story behind it. It can be something as stupid as walking on Brigade road and feeling excited about some windchime which only you think is trippy. It makes you realize that all these things you own are story-tellers in one way or the other. I look at the stickers on my cupboard and think about the time i was in Pondicherry, i look at my homemade cola can ashtray and think about the time when we drank so much alcohol in a month, we had to rest for three days just to get up.

Every artist goes through a phase when they think that they are just not inspired enough to create something. They start looking for inspiration in other people's work, nature, books, internet and any other place possible. I don't know if anyone knows this but there are so many stories behind normal everyday things around us. You just need to look around you rather than go out and search for something you don't know about. Look at the things on your desk, the things next to your bed. Try to remember where you got them from or who you were with when you got them. These things will seriously make you think about shit you never thought of before (or maybe you have but not that well). Now that the things around have inspired me, i think It's time i re-create the stories behind each one of them.

Stop staring at your screen. Didn't your folks tell you that it's rude to stare?