1:45pm.  Back from lunch, one coffee cup down.  ‘Bout to make another, for these next 10 pages.  Not a fan of editing my own work, I’ll gladly confess.  But I need to get it done.  Need the money.  The material, so far.. quite pleasing, and not as many errors as I expected.


10:05pm.  Went for a 4mile run with Alice, after returning from the 12 & Mission coffee spot, where I enjoyed another mocha and wrote 2 standalone poems.. one, a recite-worthy verse.

Opened a blend tonight, from 2010.  Only 5 pages more to edit, after the 10 I read at 12 & Mission.  Wouldn’t let mySelf write till I finished my reads.  In nook, can’t type too loud, as Jackie upstairs moans, rolls in his crib.  Not crying, just with motion bursts.

He’s stopped for the moment.  I’ll be writing from the sofa in a minute, to only my 2nd glass of the Bordeaux arras.  Going to close laptop in a minute, connect with newJournal again, put day’s 3rd poem onto canvas.  Oh.. I should edit the final 5 pages of the book, shouldn’t I?  Maybe I should wake early tomorrow, the final day of the writing retreat, read those 5, post to blog.  Tonight’s remainder should be spent treating Self– writing how I want.  Forget project, the immediacy of the blog.. what do you want, Mike?

I want to write poem, verse in those pages, newJournal’s.

Then do it.  (10:32pm)


11/2/13–  Already.  As November wages its time attack, I’m here in the coffee spot, on my  backwards “blog.”  No earphones, so I hear everything.  Two ladies in booth to right, talking about holiday plans.  And I’m reminded that, yes, it’s that portion of the year on our plates.  Five more pages to edit, in 41pg piece.  Hoping to have it printed, today, but we’ll see.  Will it hurt if I push printing back to Tuesday, between classes?  That’ll mean I forfeit time, writing time, at Redwood Café…  We’ll see.

First sip of mocha.. more people walk in.  Difficult to write with this rising voice wave, but I’ll use it.  The coffee.. elemental stake.. how everyone NEEDS it in morning.  And this being a Saturday, characters around it plan, just like wine with a meal, linked occasion.

Young couple in front of me.. their three, that I can see, children.  THREE.  Don’t know how they function with that roster.  I couldn’t.  I’m nearly sure.

What this coffee house is doing to me.. telling me characters need to invade my writing.  But if I have too many, then I’m not focused.  Maybe have each book be a character study.  My next book, 101 pages, vignette collection, with my newest character.. her employment struggles, wanting something more, something for her, something not dependent upon anyone’s “review” but her own.  She’s young, yes, 20-something, but too old she feels to deal with this.  That’s her mentality, and many tell her she’s being silly, as she is so young.. but she’s convinced: if she doesn’t change her arrangement now, she never will.


Ladies in booth, opening some gift, from postal box, to bubble wrap, to additional layer of substance undetermined [maybe tissue paper, or like].  “Oh how CUTE!” they both say, pingponging.  Oh how annoying, I’m thinking, between their laughs.  “There was a long line outside, and I say on my phone.. this guy stepped up, and I ordered my latte.. I know he’d order me a new one if I just stepped up.” left says.

“They wouldn’t just make you another one?” lady left says.  “What’s wrong?” right leans, sneezes.

They’re shifting subjects faster than I can record.. and frankly, I’m not interested anymore.  Just want to drink these 3shots.