Giving SElf 60 seconds to write this morning before going to see a former student, from this most recent semester, at Peet’s Coffee (on 4th).  To discuss poetry, writing, and whatever else surfaces.  Especially foggy this morning, sending all types of written forms through my fields.  

Bringing 3 poems to my meeting.  OR, actually 4.  While driving I had the thought of writing a verse on a piece of printer paper; something to recite, quite quick, tangled, vicious.  This mocha, certainly working.  The past days’ entries will be posted later, from wherever I choose to work.  Thinking I’ll go to the delicatessen.  That’s a Hemingway spot, definitely; with the wood, sounds, people.  May even have a beer there–  NO!  Nothing that slows you!  Anymore, those fermented forms serve only detriment as I’ve so many times recently stated, in so many twinges.  Today, my last day to Self before the term starts, before this new book’s written, for the strongest semester of my teaching career thus far…  So I must have the most lethal accuracy with my writing today.


Heater on.  So entirely cozy in this condo castle, at my desk here, with all its infernal clutter.  Tempted to cancel meeting, but I won’t.  Want to see what she’s written.  And I want to be around more writers.. certainly much less wine robots, and even teachers.  I want to exist within my own– Artists.  That’s what’ll make this year what I intended even before it started.  I’m finally starting, towards what I saw in high school, my senior year Creative Writing class with Mr. Sullivan.. and in my freshman English class, at Foothill, with Dr. Lankford.  Meant to write him a letter a few weeks ago.  Maybe ‘ll get to that today.  And today…  Very much about consolidation, probably my most ardent of aims in ’14.


37:20-something left in counter.  Heater still on.  I set some music to pulse through these little speakers, as the poetry it begs.  Should start on that full-time app today, as well.  Into work bag…

Looking outside, not AS foggy, but still gray.  Perfect for writing, but I have to see the fog, the weather that orders me stay inside, observe it concurrent.  Want to have the classes start with a brief letter, promising my intent, where we’re going (but not too specific as to ruin the joy of surprise, turns in our story..), and of course further advocacy they make the topic their own.


And this mocha does its job so thoroughly, just as I will today, hoping to leave Self with a little free time, to do whatever I like.. possibly even a latter nap.  Again, if I feel like it.  Anything that’ll help me get to where I want.. on the Road, in my office…  Autonomy.  And who can stop me?  One of them?  Hardly.

Won’t waste the hour on their topic–  They’re only a topic if I say they are.  And now, in this hour, they don’t bloody exist.  What does, my day.. the sittings I’m about to enjoy; my semester; my newest story.