One of the things I do, and enjoy doing is taking my drawing supplies out for a night on the town. I pick a bar, order drinks, get high if possible, and I sit at the bar and draw weird abstract drawings. The atmosphere of music and conversation works it way into the drawing.
And people ask, what are you over there drawing. I show them. They ask questions. And the thing I hate the most, someone asked me an hour ago. What is your inspiration?
What a vague, meaningless question. WTF is this NPR? Are you Terri Gross?
Let's disect this. My Inspiration. That's different for each piece isn't it. An artist who had ONE Inspiration would suck, and get boring pretty quick.
It's an insipid question.
Now do w that what you faggots will. But don't ask me that fucking question if you happen to see me me half shitfaced making drawings at the end of the pub.
IAMNOTAROBOT
my generic response to such questions: sunshine and kitten farts.
*or fake hyperventilating and saying ACIDACIDACIDACIDACIDACIDACID