8:24PM. The run, not as dreadful as I imagined. It was quite freeing, actually. Saw my old friend, Ed, up in the Fountaingrove hills, on the way back to the parking lot from which we launched. Only could admire the area, well up there; the scents, quiet, animals (heard wild turkeys but couldn’t see them, during the minute-long extreme uphill intervals). And the houses. Just what I want for Mr. Jack, Ms. Alice, mySelf. It’s what my son deserves. And I’ll use wine, its embellished and over-exaggerated dogma and statutes to get me there.
Opening a bottle of my Merlot tonight. This’ll be the first glass of wine I’ve enjoyed in a while. And, on such guard, the symptoms are all but away from my character, so my thought even more liberated leap.
C——: She likes the nature of wine’s business, but doesn’t want anything she’d do, from a winemaking perspective, to be commercial, or expected, or even sales oriented. She believed that wine should always sell itself; that the job of the “salesperson”, or ‘rep’, was to introduce wine and consumer, make sure they’re happy together. She also goes for walks, everyday. She doesn’t run like Mike. She used to run, but thought that there’s never a need to rush, or speed when you don’t have to. She used her walks for thought collection, meditation.. actual PEACE.
Have to get all the English 5 grading done tomorrow. No fail. At lunch, I’ll be tallying ten items, larger papers or shorter. I’ll continue grading when home, and early Wednesday morning, as well. After classes, I’ll retreat to the library, that 4th floor room where I today sat before being driven by a cough attack. In fact, I want to test Self, see how long I can stay in that library, see if I can push Self till 4, or close to 5. What I’ll do the whole time? Write, of course. But also research. Joyce, Hem, Poe… National Geographic photos, articles… Hunter S. Thompson. Don’t know too much about ‘HST’. But I will tell you that since my recent fascination with National Geographic has pulsated to an non-ignorable impose, I’ve had more an inclination to write in a first-person account form, HST’s “Gonzo” form, if you would. But what would my subject be? A shift in the tasting room is hardly readable, frankly. But re-immersing Self in scholastic habit.. studying.. making one’s Self an authority in a chosen arena.. there the character experiences freedom, stepping out and away from any chains prescribed.
This one house on the run today: rustic, not overstated, nice balcony overlooking beginning of our hill, slightly hidden by tall bushes, discrete trees. Only two stories. Can see mySelf with an office, there, waking to write, then walk, then back to play with little Kerouac. Understand, today, reader: CHANGES ARE COMING. The old ways of passivity, hoping for something, waiting, are ended. This is my Ulysses, my Moveable Feast.. an escape from The Bell Jar.