Nothing

This is one of those nights when you want nothing more than to write but you sit staring at the blank page unable to commit yourself to anything of substance. Well not you, me. I'm staring it a blank page wondering why I can't think of anything to write and praying that whatever ghost inspired ginsberg would posess me and breathe life into my hands, into the keys. Wondering if I write about nothing long enough, will something come. Wishing I knew where to find inspiration and thinking of everything and nothing at once. craving sleep but yearning to do something more with my life.
The line keeps running through my mind: "I saw the best minds of my generation"... who are the best minds of my generation? where are they hiding, why haven't I met them, why aren't I one of them? could I find them and follow them around.