Keep seeing “Ides of March” referenced, on TV, in articles. Not sure what it means, exactly. Is this a sign of some sort? Something telling me to steer a certain way? Either way, day off. Literary lunch-style. Typing faster than fast over the next 60 minutes. Rain, continuing, but not anywhere near yesterday’s vehemence. Spoke word, this morning’s project. In addition to reading 3 more pages of my book. Not going to lie, I’m a bit behind on the editing. Not as fun as the writing. Have to get over that. Now. Sipping the mocha, listening to drops in the thin metal drain on the other side of the wall on my right.
Think I found a reading here in Sonoma County, closer to home. But, again, time’s an issue, from my commute. Frustrating. How am I supposed to read if I can’t blend it into my routine of “responsibility”? Don’t I deserve to have clock-in time for something I want to do, for one of my appointments? The drive home last night, like driving through, into, a dozen fire hoses, all aiming at my little car. Windows fogging, standing water on thinning tire tread. Kept thinking to Self, “For what?” Still thinking that, here with my mocha, while pages 9-12 of the book crawl from this aging printer. “Revolution solution,” says Thievery Corporation.
Looking through these pages as they settle on the plastic strip extending from beneath the paper bay. Surprised with how much I write, a little I guess. But more at peace with my voice, or “style”, as much as I avoid the term. This stream of consciousness, throwing it to the page; unfettered, rapid reiteration of my trials, my steps as a writer. And, wine’s the exact same, according to Professor Sis. “Don’t second guess yourself,” she ordered. And I don’t follow anyone, ever. But, Miss Katie… a soldier for her, her disciple.
“Ides of March.” I remember trying to rime a word with “tide” the other day in the café, and I remember the word “ides” slithered into my thinking. “What on Earth is an ‘ide’?” I recall thinking, sipping mocha2. Looked it up, and “Ides of March” resulted. Refers to the 15th day of March on Roman calendars. There are also ties to the assassination of Cesar. From the Latin word “Idus,” translating into “half division.”
“The Ides of March have come,” Cesar spouted.
“Ay, but not gone,” the soothsayer said.
From Shakespeare’s masterwork. A bit ominous, but more cognitively reviving. Loved doing the research into the phrase, the lines. Had no idea that such prophesy was attached to the Ides concept. Sipping the morning mocha, I imagine again being back in the classRoom, my truest of elements. Where I’m strong, sovereign, with purifying Pedagogical Freedom. I will be back at the class’ head. No spooky foreshadowing can stop me. I’ve accumulated too much momentum.
[1/21/12 – Sa]