In Search Of Inspiration

I've posted up a new video. Bob Dylan never seemed to figure too prominently on my musical horizon. Then I heard Blind Willie McTell. There's a resonance to this song that seems to fit so well with my feelings for my latest work. It's a simple song with a gentle rock to it, and so very haunting. I can listen to it over and over without growing tired of it. There's even a reference to St James' Hotel, which, considering that the story is set in Newcastle, is rather apt.
Dylan always seems to me as someone who has travelled through time. Like he always existed; not strictly human. Like Elvis and Bowie. There are elements of each I'm trying to capture within the hero of my tale. I can do it. But I have to be careful that I do it properly.
Work has got in the way of my revision of chapter two. So has life. Perhaps writers never really exist in the real world. Perhaps we do, just it feels like we don't.
When I listen to Blind Willie McTell, it seems like I'm being told something, though the words are not there in the song: grab your life when you can, I guess. It soon goes, you know. Time passes, and you are left wondering where the hell it has all gone.
But you have this dream. You still have this dream - like most people have dreams. Very few try to realise them. I'm still trying to realise mine. Maybe I never will. Then again, I didn't start until late. No compromise. Gotta get on with it.
A bit of a garbled post, so it's no wonder I've not put pen to paper, lately.
Foolish dreams.