Sources of inspiration are all around us. Sometimes I don’t see them. Sometimes I recoil from what the world has to offer.
There’s a person I keep meeting when I venture outside of my home to take a walk, one of the few times I dare to leave it. He’s well-built as if he works out. He never wears a mask. He’s always talking on a cell phone. He doesn’t make any attempt to socially distance himself from me or anyone else on the road. He forces everyone else to get out of his way.
I could write about him. I’m writing about him now. I resent sparing him the attention just as I resent sparing him any of my finite lifespan. I find him predictable and boring when I don’t want to throttle him. I could throttle him in a story or have someone else throttle him. I could kill him in any number of ways. Or I could make him more interesting, develop him into someone worth spending time with. I don’t want to. Why should I do him any favors? I’m already sick of the sight of him, the sound of his voice. I’d happy to never see him again. Only he keeps showing up, him and others like him.
Have you met this man or someone similar? Does he annoy you as much as he annoys me? Did you use him or your own irritation in a story or a blog? Or are you trying to forget him?