journal, 7/23/13

Waiting for an episode of Sam’s and my podcast to “upload.” This is getting annoying, all these toils with technology.  After this entry, I’m onto paper, pen.  REAL writing.  Felt jurassic after run.  In a good way.  Like an artful monster, set in his sentence saunter.  Hoping for another in morrow.  45 minutes, again.  Typed 4pages in OFFblog log.  Pleased with day’s progress.  No wine, thankfully.  So no slowing.  Going to write till I’m 2tired to do so.  Feel I’m quickly there approaching, though.  Need to walk around, Self wake, Self SHAKE.

Thinking again of sweeping severance from technology.  There’s too much waiting, too much dependency.  It’s not Art.  Happy with the 4 pages/2,000+ words today settled.  Forgot I put sparkling water in freezer.  Letting it thaw on sink counter in kitchen.  Can’t help but see metaphor in that, somehow.  Like technology’s keeping me still, in some mental iceberg.  I Self thaw by only allowing Self to write.. or something to such effect.  Pictures, thrown into some photo bay, to be developed, so I can touch them, put them into an actual album.  De-virtualizing them.

10:38pm.  Not at all tired.  Would love a coffee right now, actually–  NO!  Espresso.  Oh that would be heavenly.  But, have to wait till office, where I’ll have it by desk.  Comp Book to be opened, for rhymed speech, song, verses to be performed, vended.  At a time in my life where my convictions should not be withheld, nor muffled.  I’m not staying silent.  Only Self-printed.. making this vision tangible.

Self, Self.. no more ‘self’.  I capitalize with intent, as I’m capitally intended.

Again, the video upload stalls.  I’m done.  Definitely quitting these things.  Why did I ever start?  Senseless to think about that.  Or these devices at all, anymore.  Off to tope in paginated rhyme tropes…  Don’t want to waste it here.

Am I running tomorrow morning, as I before planned?  Probably.  Not as tired as I was after today’s run.


7/24/13:  Rough morning for writer.  Not sure why everything has to be so difficult.  Maybe I[!!!] make it difficult.  Either way, headed to café to write for Fall.  Need to stay focused on those 2 classes, what I want to offer to students.  AND, the authors I’ve chosen.  Want to be a student again, this term.

Uploading another video, this time for work, on my day off.  Only blaming Self for this lull.  Back in tasting Room, I think, tomorrow.  But I’m not letting mySelf think about wine.  Not today.  Not at all.  Only sighting Capote [Engl 5] and Faulkner [Engl 1A], coupled with concepts I want to introduce that first day.  Emphasizing Comp, and Comp Theory, definitional clarity, for Engl 1A.  Then for 5, Critical Thinking, Literary Theory, deconstruction, Reader Response.  At least that’s what I have in head now.

And another road bump with technology, with my phone, sending a “text message.” Isn’t that phrase redundant, now that I think?  Don’t any written messages, or most messages [which directly imply communication] assume involved text?  Either way, I’m past annoyed.  Bringing Lectures Comp Book to café.  Need first full week for both classes DONE by sitting’s end.  Want a book from this term, one that’ll get me to Road, if I’m not already there by time it ends in December.

The clutter on this desk–or I should say BACK on this desk, as it was scattered around Room during retreat–not stressing me.  I’m from it drawing.  Not sure if I’d qualify it as “energy,” or “momentum.” But it’s something.  Something I can use.

Need to print some pages today.  No fail.  Hoping to get out 3.  Humble goal.  If I wind up with more, incredible.  But 3’s what I today need.  Need writing to sell.  Why don’t I print something now?  […]  Started proofing a 4-page piece.  Made my “goal,” I guess.  Have to keep printing, finish this book, SELL it.  Want to be seen as one always looking to sell his Art, spread his pages around.. ALWAYS writing.

Putting laptop in bag, preparing for café sitting.  Looking at the Lit Terms & Theory dictionary I bought for Prof Coleman’s class, back in ’99, my first SSU term.  Need to be as brilliant as Bob, or close, on day 1.. hook each student.  Emphasize the simplicity I’m infusing into our lectures, lessons.

12:21pm.  Closing session at café.  Nice, how quiet it is here today.  Not too fond of my mocha.  Only 2shots, probably why.  That, and the lid leaks, two or 3 drops at a time onto hand.  Have 5 pages ready to print, typed 1 pages for first day of English 5.  Agreeable progress.  Don’t think I’ll get to 3PAGES for day.  Not an issue, since getting 4 done yesterday, over 2,000 words.

Then, someone sits next to me.  Yes, two tables down, but that’s closer than I’d like.  Switching to Comp Book, spoken word–

7:19pm.  Jackie down.  Ran 2.4 miles, I think.  Only had 20-min time window to sprint.  And this run, I felt.  Still feel.  Was done over 2 hours ago.  Had one glass of ’12 SB from winery.  First glass here in home since retreat.  Not aiming for 3PAGES today.  And tomorrow, I’ll be lucky if I even get in an entry, with how I’ll be flying to SFW after estate shift.  Looking to taste multiple characters tomorrow, if you don’t mind.  Bottled characters that sway palate in unusual ways, like that ’11 Pinot St. Francis recently released.  Wine, wine.. all that’s pushing mind.  Thinking of what I might sip on Road.  Overlooking ocean, from Grecian Room.  Jot first words to head: rolling, musically, parted, still, me here…  Some would expect me to stamp some overtly articulate 300+ page piece, but that’s not how I write.  That’s not how poets like I[!!!] write.

Caring less, less, if people read this blog.  It’s my journal.  I just dare people in this synthetic industry to read it.  If they can tolerate the poly-affricate propensity.  More than free-spirited.  Compositionally careless, liberated.  Qualms with my content, then approach!

At unusual ease, this eve.  Please with progress in lecture writing for 5’s first day.  In a way, I’m finding, Literature is more mathematical than mathematics.. assuming more shapes than any geometric entertainment–  Perhaps I should save this the other blog, the pedagogy pages, but it’s been something on the writer’s mind, of late.  The concept of variable–  Need to read more.  Consulting Stanford’s online EOP [Encyclopedia of Philosophy], later.  Want various currents in my session, pushing students in their respective directions, giving way to collective grapple.  If that makes any sense at all, as I start to feel tired’s tussle.

Want to sit at a table.  By mySelf, Paris.  No notebook.  Just a glass of anything red, observing.  Then, back to hotel to write.  Need to do more living, I’m learning.  Writing ALL the time’s serving negatively.  Should do more capturing without device or notebook.  Makes me think of the walk Capote took before writing ‘Other Voices, Other Rooms’.  Now, on a couch, watching some cooking reality show, envious of their travels, competitions, confidences.  Need to be even more outspoken, audacious as one living by the pen.  I’ll print the five pages tomorrow, getting me closer to walking armed, with actualized manuscript.

This routine, boring me.  That’s all I’ll say.  If I had an actual book to hand someone, rather than some business card, with a web address, these scenes may be more animated.  From rough morning to eased evening, I’m seeing more.  Tomorrow morning, hopefully writing a little.  Time doesn’t allow much in AM’s harshest.  Ugh, then that event after work.  Have to get something out of it.  Material, photography, free wine.. something.

Ideas for cooking.  And I have to.  Talk about newness, me cooking…  Have to act out-of-character, much as able.  Onto sparkling berry water.  And I never have dessert, but guess what reader.. I’m about to.  This cough, angering me, generously.

Tomorrow, all logged, randomly, with unexpected–  No more promises, just know I’m thinking of how to change my theme shape.  From the morning mocha ordering, to the 17 minute commute, to entering my number then swiping finger to “clock in,” to tasting my first wine [and, oh yes, I’ll let Self taste a.. couple], to closing up routine, to driving off estate.

Print everyday, at least 1 piece.  And log a new observation…  Every.  Day.  Again wondering what I would have been, as a writer, had I experienced war.  Whether as warrior or reporter.  Just be in danger, composing Self to just live, or survive.  Then write, record Life later, after my scenes.