Heard, in Rounds

Back from errands.  Hoping to be in campus office at 2:30p.  Or maybe 3.  Writing lectures today, certainly.  Again tempted by drawing, colors, but once more I hold off.  Want this writing to work first, get me to Road, my own office.  THEN, I draw, paint.  Did a free French lesson, online, this morning, with Jack watching.  Did pick up some new knowledge.  LOVE that language, its arrangement, congealed syllables, pervading tonality.  Also, downloaded new songs from my French Café Pandora station.  Jack approved of them, as well.

Have a little cash on me, from check I cashed today, earlier while on these “Errands.” [Why did I CAP that?]  Thinking of starting a stash for NOTHING.  Don’t want to dub it “petty cash,” as it sounds too office-environment.  Just money to have in reserves.  At ready, for days rainy.  Maybe for my first Paris trip– I mean, trip BACK.  What’s with me today?  Must be all the caffeine.  Home-brewed cups this AM, followed by the morning manuscript mocha Alice brought, coming home from her workout [spin class].  Confining Self to this Writing mold, making me rattle, beneficially.. closer to it– AUTONOMY.

Looking again through pictures.  Starting to present stinging redundancy.  Barrels, crush pad, wine, vineyard, clusters, harvest, REPEAT.  Precisely why this writer needs the Road.  No materials, no special setting, no isolation, or perfect positioning.  Just me– the WRITER.  Pen.  Something I can write on.  Doesn’t even need to be paper.  For example, MEMORY: an office hour at SRJC, 2007, writing poem on a napkin–yes, that was clean–when no students visited.  Loved that odd canvas, the napkin’s contours, shape, up-cropping features.. sure I have it, still, somewhere up there, in that closet of dead scribbles.  Soon, however, to be resurrected.

Class, when I’m back, different than the first part of the term.  How?  More Literature, Theory, more WRITING from ME.  Writers need to be in the presence of other writers, I’ve heard all my writing life.  So if I want my students to consider themselves writers, if only in my class, then I need to show mySelf as more of a writer–


Clocking out to enjoy.


5:47pm.  Cleared a bit of desk, since returning from a walk up challenging hills, in upper Bennett Valley.  Started writing lecture for class on Tuesday, but holding off, as I’m compelled to plan rest of day’s, night’s really, writing.  1) Book contribution, at least five pages, new and/or “old”; 2) Letter to fellow Artist.. been meaning to begin my letters, but with my streaming writing strand, it’s incredibly difficult, as you might guess [and if you follow all these rants..].  Went looking at new[er] cars with Alice, Jack.  Not exactly the cars I’d like to be looking at, but with our caches, what else can we do.  Similarly, I couldn’t help noticing how lovely those structures are, off Woodview.  Would love to have an office up there, overlooking fairway.  Soon, I’m sure.  Just have to keep writing, finish this book already.

Down to three piles on desk.  One, the papers from last semester’s end, which I can easily stash somewhere, now.  The other, some old writings, magazines, topped by an SRJC check stub.. should probably inspect that pile.  And the other, for bills, two of which I just payed.  Should probably dump a couple more units into house fund, just to keep chipping away at that downpayment.

Haven’t written at this desk in a while, I’m just realizing.  Not sure if it’s significant, probably isn’t, but that’s what I’m deconstructing right now.  Not that far from 1000 words for day.  The ’08 from Loxton, last night, may have its remainder dumped for an ’09 Merlot, St. Francis of course.  Need to research Merlot, as that’s set to be my varietal for 2013, if all in line falls.  Want my Merlot to be smooth while still ardent, artful while still precise; Romantically stern.  How will all that be worked?  No idea.

Tomorrow at winery, hoping for more activity.  But then, it was raining yesterday, and I did enjoy it, quite a bit actually.  Need more lively and layered characters in the Room, like that editor yesterday.  Finally, a Literary figure in my Room.  Reminded me to keep everything simple, stay on my path, one more precise as I’ve aged, so I can travel, have my work in publications like hers; followed, meaningfully; read, meaningfully; truly part of the Literary WORLD.

Thirsty.  And hungry.  Time for break.  Will write later.  With Merlot, its palate performance.  What descriptors will come to mind?–  Did I just type that?  How could I say something so moronic?  I do use descriptors, but not obsessively, surely not in premeditation, like above.  Shame!  I’m just looking forward to nice red wine, simply.  And wine, at end, is ALL about simplicity.  It’s yours.  Your glass, your moments, your Life.  And LOVE.

9:18pm.  Sticking with the ’08 Loxton.  Didn’t have heart to toss it to disposal.  And, its song is much more convincing tonight.  Jack’s evidence, all around me, reminding me that Time’s watching.  Blanketed in future, that’s why I need to keep everything simple, in singularity’s stack.  My Life, swooningly easy: Writing.  Books.

But I’m not writing any highlighted sweet, cotton candy compositions.  It’s not how I was learned.  If this is a stage, this Literary Life, I’d rather write my own story, dialogue, transitions, settings, travels.  Talking to mySelf about all the jobs I’ve had, all the resumés I’ve submitted.. all the interviews, applications.  I’m done.  So again, stressing focus in this new book.

My French studies, more enjoyable today with Jack next to me, watching and listening, making his codified remarks.  Downloaded a couple more songs in French.  Hopefully that’ll help as the salsa tracks did when I taught Self Spanish so many years ago.  Need quiet.  Would have so in hotel Room, on overnight in Florida, listening to ocean, while writing verses on their logo’d napkins.

Admitted admissions.

Clouds raining time, to desolate

present.  Charged to return, shelves.