uniformed interchange

Checking in.  8:14am.  Little later than I usually do.  Starting with home-brewed coffee.  Only two posts to this “blog” today.  Need book done.  Not teaching in summer, and I don’t want to be reliable on any clocks, just my Art, my bindings.  I will reach 106 in book today, without fail.  Relieved that now it takes shape of collection.  Not sure what made me think of Mr. Emerson’s piece the other day.  Glad I did.

So nice having my little Artist back home.  More of a Writer’s retreat with him home, really.  Right now, he walks around, snacking, showing his new sounds to his ever-typing padre.  Cold this morning.  Heater’s already come on twice, or maybe 3 times.  Kelly on mind, but saving all for BOOK.  Had a dream about her last night, what questions people would throw at me when doing readings, signings.  Not sure I’d be able to answer them all.  Meaning, I need to know my character better.  That simple.

That group from Boston yesterday, the man from Montana here on a business trip, the new wine club members from FLA.. all in mind, sight, for book.  I had someone say the other day, “You must meet so many people from all over the country, all over the world, huh?” I’ve always found that interesting, Literarily valuable, how guests see my position there, in the Room.

Oh yes, the article Mom brought to dinner, on “indie authors.” More motivating than I can “post” on this blog.  I have to be of indie fold, the way I write.  The way I see it. I’m marketing my ideas, my character (ME), just as much the pages.  Celebrating this morning, with this coffee, with little Kerouac.  Just posted a poem to blog, and it’s still poetry month, and I want everything I say, do, think, breath, respond, reject, fiddle with, explore, understand, misunderstand, to be FULLY poetic.  Mr. Emerson demands it.  He reminded me of my responsibility.


 3:50pm.  In adjunct office already.  Find mySelf stressing.  But why?  I’m the instructor.  Just as I urge my students to display ownership over their work, I must more over mine, in professorial arena.  Much rejuvinated following nap, from 12p to nearly 2.  Nursing my 3-shot mocha, 2nd of day.  Didn’t sleep that well last night.  But I will this even, note–

Going to lighten my load by dropping some excess papers off at car.  Back in a couple.  Frankly I need the fresher air– actual air.  This office, a choking chamber.  Overheard some full-timers talk about student writing, how awful it is, how they shouldn’t care about their students’ stories, or some of them.  I thought to mySelf, “When was the last time you wrote something worth reading?” Further motivation to finish this book.

Feeling jittery.  Anxious.  Just need to relax.  Take notes on essays I want to write, those of academic/analytic, or deconstructive topics.  I can’t obviously finish one here, in this little rectangular holder.  When home tonight, only pen to paper.  Going to pretend I’m Emerson, in his day, where there’s none of these electrical bats digging their points into my thinking’s surface.

Just had an idea.. but starting in Comp Book, before I start typing.  Going to be a position paper, or idea titled.  I don’t know.  500 words, I’m thinking.  Need more of these standalone pieces.  Essays, vents.. expressions.  Me, expressing.

4:28pm.  Still have quite a bit of time left to write, and/or gather Self.  Both, more usefully.  Tomorrow, back in TR.  always when there, behind counter, I think of these essay ideas, these deliveries, lectures, writings to finish.  Now, I start trend where I do bring them, ALL of them, to fullest fruition.  Quiet in building.  Don’t hear anyone talking, nothing on this door’s other side.  The other door, leading to that auditorium-like classroom.

Already started typing the 500-word piece.  Why did I do that?  Oh well, I did.  I promise to finish it tonight.  Just heard something on door’s other side, like the professor’s firing something up.  Was a sparkling sound, if that makes sense.  There it is again.  I listen to my Wine Bar beats, here in chambers.  Tonight, no wine.  Not even a drop.  Need to be focused for writing’s sake.  And, need more than plenty sleep.  Bringing papers to work, tomorrow, for grading.  Want this semester over with.  Want to be further ahead of students.  For their benefit.

Collecting Self, amid those sparkle sounds, which come more consistently.  Only 11 more meetings, counting finals week.  Should be interesting, this final push.  Letting both sections go early tonight, so they can gather themSelves, come prepared–far beyond mere adequacy–for next class.  Throwing all energies at term’s close.  Grading, prep, interaction, meetings [collective, individual].. want my students leaving this section [both classes] with scholarly system.

Full professor mode.  In fact, I should stop with this entry, return to lecture notes for night.  That’s what I know better to do.  Clocking out, to clock into professor’s stroke.  Notes, for students…  What I need to get to.  Have everything I need.  Allowing Self two more minutes for this entry.  Tomorrow, should probably check on wines, at some point, if I can.  See if that Zin-y funk has gone away.  If not, I’ll have to run analysis.  These wines aren’t dying, not on my Creative clock.  Jumping to other journal…

6:44pm.  Five minutes to write.  First class, sent to library.  Hope to all that’s scholarly and Literary they do their part.  IF they don’t, what else can I do?  Of course I’ll be blamed, but it’s the student’s responsibility to do the work, to motivate Self.  Again, ONUS.

So hungry.  Hard to concentrate.  Next class, a little discussion, then release.  Same motive: research.  American Scholar.. has to be alive, somewhere.  Tonight, again, no wine.  Not in a wine mood, really.  This blog, capturing all of me, I hope.  The entries, from 1 year ago, when I was at AV Winery, and Jackie was only a couple months old [2 months old, one year ago, yesterday], unaware we has one of the most amazing vintages in 20+ years on our hands.. still in writer’s swirls.  6:49p, off to class.  Hoping this meeting shows more prep, energy, fire for independent work.

8:34pm.  Can hear the instructor on the other side of office’s door, in front of me, slightly left, lecturing.  My 100 section, went well.  HAVE to catch up on grading.  Going to bring 15 items to grade, tomorrow.  Not quite how I want to spend lunch, but that’s what I have to do to get ahead.  ALSO, write detailed plans for EACH remaining session.  If I want American Scholars in my class, I need to provide mySELF as one in these sessions.  Especially the remaining/final ones.

Leaving in a couple minutes.  When home, working on book.  Pushing old material in, for sake of re-exploration, transcendence.  These diarist efforts, not for nothing.  Fine writing, I believe yes.  They’re truthful, they reiterate, they’re personal, and they more than affirm courage–  I’m still writing.  I write EVERYday.  Not each session produces something worthy of canonization, but I’m still in seat.  Scribbling, or typing.

Wonder how much I have in Self-publishing stash, now.  Probably about $140, or something.  Right?  The instructor raises his voice, from other side.  Going to press my ear up to door, see what he’s addressing…  “…Austrians defeating the Turks, did that have something to do with religion.. absolutely…” he said.  Could feel breeze carrying his lecture into my ears, cooling left side of the writer’s face.  “…the Czar in Russia…” Would love to sit in on his class, much I love history.

Oddly comfortable, and stimulated in this chair, in this miniaturized academic thought hostel.  It’s 8:45pm.  I’ll leave at 9pm, fleetly.  6 days from now, at 5:50pm, I’ll see what I’m allowed to teach in Fall.  Hate that position.  Definitely need to revisit the idea of starting my own writing community, teaching practice.  I’ve heard a number of instances of people tutoring after leaving teaching, making immeasurably more money.  Something to think about.  But research first.

That nap today definitely helped the writer.  Right now, I feel more alive than I did before classes.  That tired trend was certainly just in my head, around 5:15 to when I started class.  Can’t let mySelf get like that.  Can’t let mySelf get behind on grading like I do sometimes.  Next classes, all handed back.  All settled.

Think I do need some wine tonight.  Something red to pair with pasta Alice made.  I’ll let you know, as I guess this is still technically a “wine blog,” of some phylum.