10/1/13– Finding it more difficult, stinging, to get everything done I wish. 3:43pm.. budgeting till 4p, precisely, for this entry. Done with lunch, sipping sparkling lime water from bookstore. Surprised how warm it is, thinking back on this morning’s chill. Students, proving even more inspiring than gambled. More organized after visit to office supply store this morning, somewhat. Just have to stay atop grading.. that’s the most important menu item. Give mySelf more time to read, enjoy student perspective on assigned authors.
In morrow’s cruelly chilled, dark hour, I’ll run. For 60 minutes, not a pulse more. Then, to work. Readers.. out for readers, new readers. Need inject more newness to these pages, act more out of character– or at least do what’s newest to me, MY role in this story. Speaking of fiction, didn’t touch the 500-word piece last night, shamefully. Maybe I’ll make that my only aim tonight– NO. Stop doing that, promising what you’ll do. Just do.
Or do not.
Not much to type form this adjunct coffin. Other than I’m eager to explore ‘Johnny Panic’, the Plath piece I picked, with the English 5 group. BUT, this semester’s main event, left to the 1A section, with Mr. Poe.
Too enclosed in here. Need air, again. And maybe a coffee, eventually. Yes, the writer more than likely will. As I’m tiring. Maybe I should have it now. No– wait for class, get it just before. Going through more of Walls’ ‘Glass Castle’, after watching a movie clip I meant to show them last class.
Need that air, I think. And that coffee. It’s 3:58p. Bringing some papers and laptop back to car, put in old bag, in trunk. For what it’s worth, I have maintained admirable habit, day2day, this far this Fall term.
Found most of my students are night writers. Think I’d benefit from more P.M. prose, poetry.. pages, whatever the shape.
10:12pm. Set to rise at 5am for run. Sipping decaf, which I probably shouldn’t be. And some of the remaining peanut MnMs. Which, also, I’d be better off without. Posted twice to teaching blog, already thinking of first discussion on ‘Johnny Panic’ with English 5 section. But I can’t go on, here, about how I’m going to approach Thursday’s sessions, or how I need to go through old entries for sakes of this first chapBOOK [and that’s how I’ll be writing that, from now on..]. Need to finish story, now, that 500 word piece. This decaf, romantically sensory. Glad I used that [descriptor] on coffee, not wine.
And please let it be noted, readers.. I’m not at odds with wine, its world. I just reserve the right to reiterate that I’m a writer. Above and before all else. And that my artistic aim can only be sequenced in one arena, one quite distant from anything relating to wine, the ripples it leaves in those sipping. Tonight, accented example: I’m sharp, awake, acute, astute. Wine wouldn’t allow that.
Either way, bon nuit, my readers. Off to my fiction…
10:55pm– Done. Mostly dialogue in this piece. And limited to 1 page, only 458 words. Fine by me. And I like its rhythm. Have to give it a read, obviously, but I’m enjoying being done with it. Should get to bed, if I’m to do this run tomorrow, write about– have something to write about– any newness.
Going to watch a little of the news, then bed. So glad I renounced wine this evening. Would not have been able to walk anywhere near what I’ve written this evening.
Hoping I hear new sounds, feel new atmosphere.. only sip newness on tomorrow’s run. I will. No music. Only bringing device with me to track/measure progress.
Prêt pour mon prochain jour…
10/2/13– Finally did it, this morning. My 5am run. 7.5 miles, 1 hour. Couldn’t have been more pleased. But I want to note, tonight, with this glass of ’09 Cab (the bottle I unexpectedly located in upstairs stash): those reading these exhaustive, “rabbit hole” entries– Alice, Cindy at work, one of my [easily stronger] students.. thank you for your eyes, your thoughts, reactions. OF course I want the cash from these pieces. However, what rewards me more, the cognitive confirmation. So again: Alice, Cindy, —-… Thank you.
Tomorrow, dropping off little Kerouac, then to Petaluma. Running again Friday morning. Not looking to outdo what I this morning feat’d. Looking to duplicate. My goal, when I woke this morning, at 4:46am, and after a long talk with Self, finally getting the writer out the door, into that dark, strange setting.. 1hour, set on device. Glad I charged it last night. So quiet this morning, as I expected. But what I most loved, that I literally outran the sun, with dark surround upon departure AND return. I remember being somewhat afraid, when I started. But that faded, quickly. Had just enough light, especially on the run back up Yulupa.
Not touching book tonight. BUT, wrote quiet a bit of poetry, spoken word. Haikus from home, from after Jack’s dream descent. This sequence, still being scribbled. And this Cab, starting to catch me. But I type faster. I won’t let this devilish wine catch me. Looking forward to the 1st Plath discussion, tomorrow. I find the introduction, written by Ted Hughes, quite interesting, how Plath struggled with prose, had somewhat of a life plan, Literarily, spanning fiction, non, and even journalism. Just want to see what they see in her. And what do I now see in her, as I’m now a student in my own class? I see dedication.. a certain obsessiveness.
This Cab, taking on more boastful a stride, in the last five minutes. So intriguing in fact, I’m without content in glass. So, the only logical remedy.. one more splash. How many papers do I have to grade in morrow… Not many. Did manage to make a respectable dent, past couple days, especially Tuesday. I’m right on schedule, but I need to be 10 leaps, not steps, further, at 12 [o’clock, as in plane-speak], consistently. So tomorrow, taking Kerouac to Lisa’s, coming home to shower, shave.. then instantly leave.. speed to PC [Petaluma Campus]. May pick up a mocha before, but I’ll have to get another one of the mochas made on campus while there, probably right before class as I did on Tuesday. Better than the usual mochas I buy from that corporate coffee brothel.. this one, from campus, 2shot, small, with something sprinkled atop, possibly caramel. So sensual in how it slid across senses.. back, forth.. teasing.
Just poured Self another glass, keeping in kitchen so I have to rise2sip, making the glass longer last. Had another thought, while taking first sip of this final glass– starting my own wine business.. a wine shop, as I once dreamed.. but seriously investigating. Beat “the industry” at its game– or not that, just be a serious player in their game. I don’t hate wine, at all, or the industry. I just hold certain qualms with its, wine’s, dimension. But yes, I agree, I need to reshape my objection’s page approach. Very well.. so what business do I build. Or a better question.. what do I want it to be, look like to customers? If that one clotpole in Sebastopol can run a business, wine shop/art gallery, for over 8 years now, then I can succeed with fractional seriousness in effort.
Going to research a “catalogue” from a Napa-based wine business. Parent company to the box, actually. Watching news, now. Still can’t believe I finally did it, that I’ve been awake since 4:46am. And I’ll do the same come Friday. And you know what, reader… I do want a better run. Want to start my stomping before 5am. And go past 8 miles. Go into work, into MY day, with even MORE confidence than I today had. Loved the feeling, this morning, walking through those 2 tall doors. Never in my Life has the writer been more confident, healthy, quick, more LETHAL, a WRITER, than I am 2day. Praise the Craft.. sip, sip…
Re-reading these older entries. So pleased, and yes PROUD, I’ve written as much as I have–
10:59pm. On a poetry binge. Want people to want to hear me, see me, speak. Prose, still on radar, on my manuscript menu. But poetry, above elevated. There more invitation for innovation.. with words, rhythm, speech.