1 THOUsand Wordz, 11/26/12

Leaving to get car smogged, oil checked.  Not in any way exciting.  Putting mySelf in the role of a poorer-than-poor writer, while in their waiting area.  Only pen to paper.  No phone, no tech.  It’s expensive.  Or maybe a better way of phrasing it.. I’m the olden writer, quaintly purist, using only ink, sheet.  Need a mocha first.  Should I bring the Comp Book, or little pages?  Both?  Just what I’m entertaining now, before takeoff.  Exceptionally foggy outside, as if my entire block’s in an apparition’s retina.  My Saturday, but as you know I’m in class tonight.  Tomorrow, to check on wine.  Want to know the numbers, taste it again maybe.  [8:35am]

4:22pm, at a Starbucks, no surprise.  But what may be of surprise to you, reader, is that no mocha’s to a writer’s side.  Finished it, the 2nd of day, after son’s appointment.  Have grading to do, alongside finding an email that a student sent me regarding her rec letter’s destination.  Feeling stressed, so I’m only allowing Self to write in these walls.  Relaxing all nuclei, no obligation.  Only focused on Self, the sense thereof.  My book, not open.  That, too, would stress me further I feel.  So I freely write.  A couple students around me, not mine, working from their monsters [laptops], as well.

Found all the emails I thought I’d lost, for my student’s rec letter, thankfully.  That’s 1 less brick in the stress chimney.  Listening to the Thievery station, Pandora.  Imagining mySelf in my own office, or traveling.  Again.  Tired of dreaming, though, as I’ve told you I don’t know how many times.  Tomorrow, when at winery dealing with MY wine, I’m going to attach mySelf to each second, for the next book, the one after that, next.

Not sure I feel comfortable in this café.  Think it wiser to be in that instructor lounge.  Told Self I wouldn’t depart from this seat too soon, but I don’t like the cast around me.  Too many unknown figures.  Too much noise.  Too much.  The stress rebuilds itself with these conditioning taps and echoes.  Need a nice wine tonight, when back from class.  Already think I’m opening that ’09 Meritage from St. Francis, the one they call “Anthem.” On wine’s omnipresent episode, Katie’s bringing by some MKCS numbers for me tomorrow night, as well as a sample for tasting.  Quite energized, enthusiastic about revisiting my 1st wine.  Feel Self starting to calm.  Think I might be ready for campus, the classRoom.  Going to pass back a couple items to the minds.  That should keep them happy.

Still no word on that possible Critical Thinking section for next semester.  Frustrated.  Wish the chair would just tell me, already.  That would serve as more than a lovely injection of capital for either Self-publishing or winemaking.  Or both.  But the writing has to come first.  Would love for these pages to subsidize the bottle production.  And that’s really how it should go, in my sight.  I’m a writer 1st, winemaker distant second.


6:04pm.  Clocking in a bit late.  Instructor “lounge,” if that’s what you’d call it.  4 mins tardy, really.  Wanted to start typing in this finally-quiet instructor’s lounge, but I was exploring Stanford’s site, for the first time in a while.  The English Department, Philosophy…  What is my plan for getting there?  At this point in my life, as I haven’t the time nor currency for immediate scholastic regression.. WRITING.

So hungry.  Just noticed I indented this paragraph, but not the others.  Doesn’t matter, as they don’t show indented on the trendy roboticized blog anyhow.  A burrito waiting for the writer, once he’s home.  The thousand words, thousand-plus actually, from the other day may be headed towards the book.  That has to be the last prose donation to this particular book.  Yes, I want it honest.  But I don’t want it flooded.  A full-timer just walked through the room without a drop of vocal acknowledgement.  No matter.  I don’t want to be bothered.  At all.

Those other 2 full-timers, not sure if I’ve mentioned them here on blog before, that were grading departmental exams the other week, were here right when I arrived.  Apologized for disrupting them, then my cell sounded.  Wound up talking to one of them, who was actually immensely pleasant.  She was from the Business Department, actually, grading something for an inter-disciplinary assignment, or class, something.  Motivated after talking to her, now.  Tonight’s class, first of final 8 [my lucky number, not that it matter, not that believe in “luck” either], so I’m hoping to end on the strongest note possible; Leave these minds with motivation to stand up, be heard, defy when necessary.  I hope they leave empowered, ready for whatever’s ahead; I want them entrenched in their beliefs, open to beliefs, views, of others.

Can’t stop thinking of that burrito.  Going mad.  Hate being hungry.

6:33pm.  Back from a small social media distraction.  Hate to say it, but I’ll never be rid of sm.  And I don’t think I want to, really.  I’m going to be in control of it, mind you.  Not reverse.  bottledaux IS my business.  And it’s only going to grow.  That’s what’s taking me to Autonomy’s island.  Writing, always dominant emphasis, but other recipes’ll make my menu [hmm, I like that].  Need to hit day’s thousand before class.  What’s on mind, what’s on mind…  My wine, naturally.  Want to taste from tanks tomorrow, hopefully with one of the winemakers.  Thinking my “kitchen cuvée” [as I’m tentatively tagging it] will have 4 or five varietals on its streets.  But who knows, as Character 2, one of the winemakers, recently inferred.  Yeah, you want your wine to be a certain way, but you do what you have to to ensure its palatability, complexity.. so it’ll be consumed, enjoyed when sipped.  Would love a glass, right now.  Red.  Something DARK and RED.  Anthem, calling.  An ’09.  Should be quite good.  Speaking of the Frannie, I have something to attend there, tomorrow afternoon.  As I pass the day’s 1k, I’m prepared for class, students.  Going to get a conversation started even before session officially begins…  How people turn into animals when it comes to xmas shopping.  Saw some footage of a mall brawl, this morning, on the news.  OF course, they showed it 4 or 5 times, embellished, couldn’t leave the event alone.  But it threw me into thinking.  Why do we let consumerism drive us to this?  For what?  Great topic.  Just made a note in the comp book.

Chatty instructor just came, went when she saw me looking at this screen, working on something.  She started talking about the holidays, then about an article she read this morning about the red states seceding from the union.  Now, off to class.  Ready.  Still feeling effects from mocha2, what I finished well over 2 hours ago.  Breaths, breaths… Vision. [6:50pm]