1:48pm. Almost done with cup. Edited up to, and a bit INto, page 10 of book. Makes me feel a little better, I guess. Want to get THROUGH p20, tonight. Think that’s a doable task, especially for an English Instructor. What else for today, my Sunday? […] Enjoy the quasi-quiet down here, the lawnmowers, clippers, shredders, whatever they are, distancing themselves from this furious typer. Need some poem to pair with this caffeinated dart…
Thinking of my wines, what they must be thinking now that they’ve seen a little oxygen, had their homes [barrels] cleaned, and won’t be let out till, I hope, bottling. Want to open something tonight that I maybe shouldn’t. Like what.. don’t know. I know I said an SV Merlot, but I’m thinking one of the Napa Cabs– I mean Merlots that I have upstairs would provide a more enriching palate lesson for tonight’s sitting.
Slowing, now. Don’t know why, I just pounded a cup of vicious French Roast. Maybe I need a mode switch. That’s it, I’m sure. And don’t get so obsessed with the edit, I’m telling mySelf right now. I mean, if you find something in a paragraph you want to correct, then do so, but don’t NOT release a project from thinking you left a couple “errors” in their. You’re Self-published, the readers’ll cope.
More verse. Plath, this next semester, for Engl 5 students.. should be interesting, especially since so many reflexively associate her with suicide. That’s a shame, I’ve always thought.
Tormented by the run I want from today, all the lines bouncing around in head. Must have been 5 standalones that flew by in the last 2 hours. Have to calm, calm… Thinking of Lisbon, what I haven’t seen all over world. These pages are taking me there. They just bought my ticket. Thank you. Finally, silence. Lawn cut. Go away.
Want to see streets I’ve never seen, that I thought I’d never see.