9/13/12– Luckily, not as long a day for the writer. [AM, some hour…]
10:06pm. Only in a mood for verse. Convinced, now more than ever, that’s all I have time for, anymore. Pulled mySelf from tide low, only minutes ago, my wind slowed. Don’t have time, at least now, to write the novel I want to, to give Kelly what she deserves. Hoping within the next couple months I will. Stopping by the hotels today, dropping off promotional “lit” for a harvest event this Saturday, had me thinking of my travels on road, sleeping in random locations, writing those verses in unexpected beds. Sipping whatever red’s on the menu. Only days away from the road, I’m evermore certain. I have to be, for my son’s sake, subsistence. I’m writing for him. I work for him. I’m not at all autonomous. And rather proud of such a realization.
Sipping my last Torpedo of night. No idea where I am tomorrow. Pretty sure, tasting Room. A new character has caught my eye, rather poignantly. Won’t get specific, even minutely. But it will be revealed in one of the chapbooks. This figure’s voice re-energizes my stance, my own role. I’m realizing I can just rise, move, make a way of fair stray. This character and I had a conversation in the parking lot, day’s end. CharA shared with my new discoveries, a fermenting passion– new life, in wine’s shrug. Felt jealous, revived, happy for CharA [Character A]. No such thing as “too late,” and wine’s world invites that. Tomorrow night, opening something I shouldn’t. One of my Lancaster ‘09s.
Should bring some grading to work, tomorrow. But I won’t. I’ll be distracted, probably taking lunch with coworkers. And even if I didn’t, I should spend those 30 mins writing. Yes, posting from phone. So what, as long as I’m mentally alive. Like I share with my students, like I always have.. “The onus is on you.” I have to truly embrace that voice, expressiveness. So why do I continue to weigh down Self. Consider this a meditation– a filed deliberation. Can’t wait to put pen2paper. And that’s the mentality I really need to Self-proselytize. Organic, fundamental.. certain realizations tonight. Love where my mind goes, how it works. I know people only concerned with “when’s the next party,” or “when’s my next encounter.” Not me. I secede in my Artistry. That’s oenobellion. Watching another documentary, that has me ready to challenge any poet entering lobbies. I’ll travel with these poems, let it be known. While raveled, sit 3 modems, set sit we shown…
tiring, already… Must be tired from yesterday’s hours. Have to credit that early evening mocha for ushering me through my speak. Looking at my wallpaper, on this device, of French Mediterranean waves. Travel.. not to get away from anything, anyone.. only 2 get more material, to put little Kerouac through college. Want my little sire to have a true Artist as a father, one uncompromising. If there’s a beach out there, anywhere in the world, that’ll write me my Kelly novel, I’ll find it. True truth, in my new suit.