A Noisy No

4/30/14.  Had a wonderful chat with a student this morning, one having a story rich in sorrow, victory, growth, among other views.  I won’t address specifics, as to respect her Autonomy, and just her being a friend of over five years, but know that I appreciate her, her life, what she seeks, what she’s lost.

On third floor– I mean 4th, of the library, in reading room, where one.. two.. three students are sleeping, in varied corners, scattered.  One of them actually woke herself in snore.  The weather, more Californian than it’s been in months.  Shouldn’t let mySelf take a nap, as I discussed with her this morning.  So what should I do?  Should I get my shipment from AV winery, take a drive to Healdsburg’s square?  I need to do something, battle successfully the pull to sheets, and those devil pillows.

Think I will go for a drive, break my pattern–

Two students, right, working horribly to finish an assignment.  Looks like Math, or Bio.  Something I would hate.

But Healdsburg…  I think I should.  I will.  I deserve a drive, maybe a tasting of wine, take some pictures, do some writing.  I could have lunch at the Jimtown Market.  Haven’t done that in years, quite literally.  Then, depending on what time it is, I’ll return home, snooze for a bit.  Or should I go to the Square, to the HBG [Healdsburg Bar & Grill]?  I want newness, a total dissolve of pattern.  I’ll be 35, a month from yesterday, and my resolution for this new installment is executing responsibility– as in murdering it, not practicing it or putting such behavior into action.  I need to live and act more like a writer, I realize, typing and looking out the window, left, at the sky so clear it boasts rather vocally its blue chant.  [female student leaves, looking at me, with a backpack seemingly more weighted that she…]

Her discussion this morning, how she made the almost furious decision to change, everything from direction to behavior, from people that surrounded her to geographic specificity, has me motivated more than I expected.  Our plan was to have coffee.  Only she had a cup, as I want to listen, I didn’t care how tired I’d grow.  She shared– well, I won’t say.  Just let it be appreciated, reader, that I appreciate her character, her story, her as an idea of incalculable impact.

Need to stop by the bank, get some cash.  I hate using my debit card.  I wish those things didn’t exist.  All would pace so more pleasingly.  […]  And a yawn.  The nap suggestions already mount their assault.  But they’ll lose, trust me.

Thinking Healdsburg isn’t the path I should take.  Yes, I have my shipment to retrieve, but I can always have it shipped.  Maybe I should go to Citti, in Sonoma Valley, where a friend and I often get takeout…  Not sure, either way, I’m doing something different.  I have to.

10:31AM.  He needed to leave soon, for ‘100’.  His mocha, basically dead.  All he could taste now was the syrup, which disgusted him.  A cup of coffee?  No, he needed to save.  He needed those poems out.  “OUT, ALREADY!” he thought.  Departure, in hunger, restless crumble, an arranged inner torment that strangely persisted ambrosially.