7:03am. In a bit of a toxic tilt, this morning. Sipping coffee, but I’m NOT fond of what it’s saying to me. Tomorrow, 34. What can the writer do, but forward with these new ideas, approaches– to be more poetry & song focused. The long, elasticized paragraphs, pieces, any writing for that interest need be much more brief, ‘concise’ as I stress to students. I don’t have five years, 3, even ONE, to finish a project. My practice: walk away with a finished work, on ready to display, for readers, to vend.
Birthday dinner tonight at Mom and Dad’s. Not sipping much wine as I’ll be running tomorrow with Carmen. I told her yesterday, by text’s way, that I want to finish our 6.7 mile routine in under 50 minutes. “That’s a pretty lofty goal there, Madigan,” she wrote back. In any event, little wine tonight. Sparkling water, or still, between tastes. Also, may try to fit in some kind of run today, at some point.
Jack, back in his castle. On floor revisiting all his holdings here in domicile. Need another coffee shot. Difficulty waking, and I’m NOT sure why. Only had a couple beers last night, no wine.
Second cup. Thinking of lines for today’s pieces.. “no more punching a clock– so sore, running must stop…” First rhyme of the day. Hope I continue2stray. Where would I run, today? Probably out to Summerfield’s end, by golf course, then back. That’s it. Something quick. Have to do better with Carmen on tomorrow’s run.
Jack, re-acquainting himSelf with our terrain. Oh, just remembered, we’re opening that 1979 Katie bought me on her last business trip to France. So much on my Literary list for day. But I have to keep course, not stray too much. Keep all in song’s context, poem’d. I’ll see. No plans. That’s not Art. Again, my style is Momentary. THE moment.