Parked Car, Composing

Watching Kerouac.  7:59am.  Already had 2 cups of coffee, brewed home.  Tonight, back in classRoom.  Chipping away at lecture.  Songs spill from my phone, Jack picks it up, stares at the dark screen, puzzled.  I’m obsessed this morning with the notion of “thesis,” following through, with idea, statement, proposal, novel, story, song.. anything from mind, finding itself on paper.  Tonight’s thesis, more of an urgency: finding Art through deconstructive habits; working with the binaries.  If I don’t get classes in Fall, I may start my own private teaching practice.  Involving Literature, reading, writing, paper development… with most emphasis on WRITING.  Starting my own Literary/educational community.  Again, with this semester especially, I’m disgusted treatment of adjuncts.  They want me to wait till late April, this month, to see if there’s a possibility of me teaching.  And for that pig Chair to throw my winery schedule back at me, as if it makes things for him difficult, only further determines me.  What a sewer-sighed glop pot, to participate, in any intensity or context, to this adjunct treatment.  I’m tomorrow paid from college, from my indentured educating.. plan on putting 50% of it in launch fund.  But I have to keep overhead low.

Jack smiles, while crawling, loving the sounds of current song.  He makes me laugh, elevates writer’s mood.  His grandmother, my matriarch, coming over in a little over 2 hours.  Will give me time to shower, take care of a couple other items on 2do.  This 3rd cup, energizing me furiously.  So glad my urger to vino tilt has diminished following recent bug attack.  This energy, control, sight, vigor: more than addictive.  If I can have this Saturday night…  Ugh, I can’t imagine the pages I’d pocket.  I could, Literally, write a book in a night.  Or at least a few hefty chapters.  But I’m distracted by my little Artist, his inward speak.  Wish I knew what he was saying.  And not “trying to say,” but SAYING.

8:55am.  Time to prepare my little Artist’s breakfast.  Quite confident it won’t be as delicious as his Mother’s, but I’ll do my best.  Just looked through the pile of papers I have to grade this afternoon.  Not that bad.  Sticking with thesis obsession this morning, finding it very much correlates with my envelopment in simplicity.  Don’t want to say ‘linearity’, but there are certain principles aligned with