Home from errand, syllabus work.  Bought parking permit for semester, went to storage unit as well, for XA’s pink slip.  So much clutter in those file boxes of mine.  Resolved not opening another file on this laptop, or outside [paper manila folder, or whatever’s similar], or buying another journal, Comp Book, or spiral notebook INDEFINITELY.  It’s time to consolidate at this point in my  life.  And I hate to say it like that, as it only underscores I’m older, getting older, aging.  Time, enjoy your victory, devil.

Beautiful outside.  Hoping to fit in a run, at some point.  Jack and Alice, in their respective nap modes upstairs.  And me, the writer, ever-obsessed, down here, typing my Life away to a stoic screen.  Going to start typing poems for the 3[+]4 Project, tonight.  Need something to sell, as money starts to tighten.  Would love a nap right now, myself..  Perhaps I should close my eyes for a bit.. see what shape the writer takes when he wakes.


10:16pm.  Feeling a mess, as a writer today.  Managed to finish both syllabi, yes, and fit in close to 5 miles running [or somewhere over four].  But I still feel off, like I’m cyclical, and have been for years.  Think the start of such thought was the storage unit visit.. seeing all those files, all those wasted, essentially writing efforts.  Nothing more new.  Going to build on old.  Have legal sheets at left, just in case I feel verse urge.  But I’ve posted two poems already.  Letting Self enjoy a freewrite.

Tomorrow, driving to Napa to get new car detailed.  Only bringing Comp Book with, the Black&White.  Need quite, in this uncomfortably stuffy downstairs.  News just claims temp of 95 for Antioch, tomorrow.  Wondering what’s set for our corner of wine’s world.  Speaking of.. sipping a ’10 Cab tonight.  About to pour night’s cap, thinking of what I’m writing for.  See this video’s still pic on laptop’s desktop.  So much material gathered, why am I not earning from it, in my office.. ON ROAD?

Too hard on Self, maybe.  Listening to this instrumental, just after pouring a laughably kind glass of 10CS, I think some verse is needed for night.  Just as Plath did with entries in ‘Johnny Panic’, I plan to blend all these moments together.  And I don’t care if they “make sense.” I’ll be able to say I did it.  I’m doing it.

Couple worlds I want to explore, just for my own curiosity’s self-mockery: Astronomy, Aviation, Sea Navigation.  ‘Specially the latter.  Recently, have become obsessed with boating, sailing from one point to next, logging it all, like a sea captain.  OR, fly all over the country, or world, like Dad, noting everything I see.  Seeing the same thing, day in-out.. not the most healthy or useful way to churn marketable material– forget it being “marketable” … MEANINGFUL material.


As air conditioner tries to calm me, in

my fiery spiral, I only rattle more–

practically tactical.

Want 2B radical.

Beat slowing.  4

measures per breath,

hope that’s enough, time

taunting. It doesn’t care, not tonight

anyway. Lectures, only days away, laugh at

my own notes, isn’t that what we do for preparedness?