The February Inspiration Log

This is the fifth Inspiration Log, a series of posts noting the things that inspired me from the previous month.

Walking With Ghosts

My admiration for actor Gabriel Byrne began at the beginning of the pandemic. I started "I, Anna" one night and was charmed by his quiet detective role. There's a scene where he and Charlotte Rampling's character slow dance in a hotel bar, and if that were the entire film I'd be satisfied. I haven't watched past that part, I'm too scared to ruin the effect.

But, my admiration for Byrne is half about his charm and half because he's open about his childhood abuse like I am, in a "fuck stigma" kind of way. I like that. The week Gabriel Byrne's memoir, Walking With Ghosts, came out, I had it delivered to my local bookshop for pick up. I'm only halfway through it, but it's a great read. I hoot and holler and laugh out loud at every page. His family and his parents seem hilarious, and I understand all the little nuances and milestones of growing up in a super Catholic family. Above all else, he's a really good storyteller.

The Zombies

I grew driving thirty minutes to school everyday and my mother listened to lots of 60s and 70s rock and Motown from the local oldies station. I hated it back then, and wouldn't appreciate that music till I was in my 30s. Recently, in the way our minds jump from one thing to the next before landing on something random, the chorus of "The Time of the Season" by English rock band, The Zombies came to mind.

I haven't heard that since I was 15, I said to myself and queued it up on Spotify. I was hooked. I guess as the young people say: I've been sleeping on The Zombies since I was a kid.

Now I push them on everyone, in a "do you know them?" kind of way, happy to be that person listening to something obscure. (I could honestly use the cool points.) If you're willing to listen, I suggest my favorite, "The Time of the Season" (below) or the very sweet, "This Will Be Our Year." You probably already know "She's Not There."

Vintage Watches

Little known fact: I've worn a watch everyday nearly my whole life.

The brands and designs vary. I wear a watch till I get tired of it and throw it in a watch graveyard of sorts. I could go full poetic about watches, but in short, speaking specifically on self-winding, automatic watches: I like the idea of a miniature machine running indefinitely without a battery on my wrist, a functional machine with just one single purpose.

When I'm struggling with creativity, I open a browser and research vintage watches. I find the watch face of a 90s Tissot to be like a piece of art, and the 1930s watches with very delicate, hand painted Roman numerals make me smile. Who wore this? And did they know that it would live forever, be on someone else's arm, in another country, decades later?