Papers graded.  Posted to blog.  Now, freely writing.  Feels lovely, to be honest.  Have three pieces planned for chapBOOK inoculation.  To do 1 right now, actually…

There.  3PAGES.  From June, actually.  I mention Grandma.  Still hard to believe she’s gone.  Every time I walk into Mom & Dad’s kitchen, through the garage, I expect to see her there– seated, at counter, talking to Mom, over Chardonnay, the usual cheese, crackers & almonds set out.

11:37am.  Love how much I’ve written thus far in my Life– the obsessive, relentless nature of my scribblings.  I’m surely not one who can only teach.  I

definitely

do.

I

WRITE.

A mocha, from the cafeteria, as I on Tuesday had.. calling the writer.  Can still feel the 3shotter I had at home, while getting ready.  But I need another.  Have to keep this pace, like horse in wild, somewhere in Colorado, galloping at mountain base.  And on running’s shelf: plan on another darkened dash, tomorrow.  Oh yes.. quite excited.  May do route different, running up to 12, towards Kenwood, then turning around at minute 30.  But that means I’d have to conquer the perilous Summerfield, its deepened opaqueness.  Don’t want to injure Self, for if I couldn’t run, I’d be.. devastated isn’t the word.  Not sure what “the word” is, really.  I just can’t risk any excessive risk on my running.

Should go to car, lighten cargo in this new bag, which I find thoroughly useful.  Blast.. forgot to bring power cord for this cumbersome device.  And then, a couple students enter this reading room.. loud, whispering between giggles, playing with the new spherical, rotating, astronomical item on table by by door.  Think it’s meant to illustrate planetary orbit, or gravity, or something relating to a field in which I hold NO interest.  Had to take Astronomy twice, remember.  Their whispering elevates, I annoy.  The male, drops book on table, loud.  Girl laughs.  Why are they here?  Shouldn’t talk.  I was a student once.  But I always worked in those quiet Rooms, didn’t I?

11:46am.  Yes, need more caffeine.  And this quiet room’s peace is being pillaged.  Need be elsewhere for peace.

4:12pm.  Have always loved the feeling of reaching the state, caught-up, on grading of course.  Do I want to run tomorrow?  Still feel yesterday’s jaunt in legs, thighs especially.  Will set alarm, see how I feel in morrow.  Tempted to get caffeine, but this sparkling lime does the writer well.  Beautiful outside.  My pages, so welcoming Fall.

Teaching.. showing me so much more, more than past semesters, concerning the student dynamic, experience.  How some students, quite strong in their writings are–for whatever reason–lacking confidence, reluctant to have their work workshopped.  Not slighting them in this observation, mind you.  I just find it tremendously interesting.

New creed for grading practice: “TT, TT.” Ten [papers, or pieces] today, ten tomorrow.  So I’m not burdened with a stack the day I’m ‘posed to pass back.

Caffeine.. what do you want?

more, another cup–

fine.  be right there..

cafeteria coffee, how is it?

but its 4:22.. don’t have time to get coffee,

want to keep writing,

so what does the artist do,

stay indecisive?

oh sure, thatll help–

Yes, I’ve decided.  I NEED the coffee.  The water’s annoying me, in its G-rated duties.  I’ll use the change I pulled from the old bag, put into baggie, or ziplock, and into new bag [which is much more writer-appeasing].

6:26pm.  Out early.  In office.  Another instructor in here, at computer.  The lady I always see, same time everyday, before her class at 4pm.  At one of the four desks, one without a computer.  GOOD.  Hate technology.  Don’t know why I bring this device with me everyday.  Tonight’s writing.. all in newJournal.  I’ve had it.

Should I run tomorrow?  Already dreading it.  Why am I dreading it?  [–]  Remember Newness.. you need more Newness.  Make yourSelf do it, Mike.

You’re getting up at 5am.  No, before.  4:45a like yesterday.  What do you think, reader?  Wait, why am I even asking.

Student writers club in conference room.  Why I’m in here, not there.  Would rather be alone, frankly.

Battery running out.  24% now.  Ugh.. does the writer want to run tomorrow?  I’m frantically uncomfortable, anxious in this decision.

“My parents are allergic to culture,” one of the writing students just shouted from the room, around the corner.

Love these characters.. all those around.  “One of the greatest lacks in this building, a vending machine,” this adjunct just said.

6:56pm.  Should get home.  But just had a rich lengthy discussion with this other adjunct, Tori.  She’s traveled extensively.  No, more than that.  All over the world, several times over with her aunt and uncle, if I’m not in error.  She described the Cook Islands, how the water there is shockingly clear, and the feel’s altogether different with the saline content.  She described sharks which could have been large and distant, or small and near.  The clear nature of the waters disrupt depth perception.  She talked about the fish, their colors.  “You’ve never seen fish like this, never,” she said.  Then giant clams.  I thought, “Huh?” I never knew ‘giant clams‘ existed.  I’m still puzzled by this.  Will look it up later, if I remember.

Then, India.  She’d been to Bombay [now Mumbai, of course], Delhi.. and one other city.  She described some rather outrageous scenes, then some beautiful.  She told me how one day she saw a dead body on a street corner, that no one had “gotten around to taking away,” her language.  Her travels, how she described them.. another book idea.

Next book: short stories and vignettes.  Then, poems.  THEN, just a collection of entries.  I think this is my “plan.”

7:02pm.  Time for home, see how Kerouac does this evening.  Miss my little Artist.

See you at home…

Now what.

Odd mood.

At home.

Comp out of power.

So hop to paper.

Anxious, watch dinner

turn in microwave.

Control.. when did I

last have that?

***

9:05pm.  57% power.  I’ll take it.  Decaf at ready.  Another no-wine night.  Quite windy on walls’ other sides.  But I’m aiming to wake early, for another run.  I won’t back dow, nor let the early dark get into my head.  At all.

Just realized I’ve gone well beyond 1,000 words, approaching 3PAGES for day.  And so what.  When you have a book, then talk to me, I say to Self.  Thinking of wine, randomly, something incredible, but what.. you got me.  Getting a little tired, so my thinking’s all over the place, like the leaves outside.  You should have seen them soar all about the Safeway parking lot.  Something about their airy tango was funny to me, not sure why.  But again, that could be the exhaustion, all the grading I caught up on.

Another fact about Tori, the adjunct: she’s a high school teacher, English of course, near retirement, I think only four or three years out.  In her spare time, after I asked, she writes, does woodwork (not sure what), and still travels.  She teaches two English 1A sections this term, bringing her T/TH’s to 13-hour labor marathons.  I feel sorry for her, but I suppose she’s pleased with her ways, routines.  Made me even more at peace with my working arrangement, long as it lasts, before I’m on the Road, with ink, pages.

Okay, should go press the BREW button.  Nearing bottom, page3.

9:35.  You know it’s ‘PM’, so…  The winds, really wanting their due acknowledgement.  Again wondering if I want to run in this, if this level gusting’ll be around my route, or directly in it.  Tomorrow, going to approach shift with completely different attitude.  One completely in character, no writing while behind bar.  Only when off-clock.  But I’m not sure I can do that.

Then if you want to write, write, just don’t feel forced.

Good notion, thanks.