No run after work, but one tomorrow morning, I’m hoping. Have to. Have to make running a religion as writing is. Yes, I could run the ‘half’ tomorrow if I had to, even after the Chard and Rockpile I’ve tonight sipped. But I’m differentiated by the rotating blade.. like a plane or helicopter bound for faraway. -10:42PM
5/11… 6:06AM, and I feel the wear of the repeat, the constancy of monotone. So I plan further, which is the right thing to do, but execution must be execute before too long, before the dull regularity drives me truly mad. And I’m reminded of that one student’s story, how all semester long she’d been attacked by Life, Life events, and the sharpness of scheduled U-turns, then discovers poetry, and how its spell infuse more energy, magic, Life into everything.
Mother’s Day today. Not sure how that’ll affect traffic at the winery. If anything, it’ll make it a bit slower, which’ll only benefit me as I’ll be able to write. Yesterday, made a brief list of scenic ingredients in the tasting room–and scientifically so, or so I felt– ones that not only annoy me, but encourage me to further fall into my surroundings, not be so quick to dismiss them:
-coffee thermos (reserve room counter)
-wine glass, end of main bar (close to reserve room)
-napkin, small cocktail style
-scratch paper in pull-out drawer under register 2
-half-eaten chocolate squares
Into cup 1 for the morning, and I need to keep typing to make the day “exciting”, as my student cited. And one way I can further have today electric would be to count that stash, play with budget possibilities… And that’s another thing: stop planning already, and just act; be whimsical, spontaneous (much I hate that word).. impromptu, leaping from full second to second and planning what’s my next directional shift in less than a partial second. Met two ladies yesterday from Bakersfield, both owning their own businesses, one interior design–if I remember correctly–and the other an unspeakably talented and truly Artful photographer. Another message to me that I just need to leap.
And what better way
that through the verse– the music of each auditory blip, visual subtlety or over
6:54– Watching Cars 2 with little Kerouac. He taps my shoulder, telling me this is not the time to write but to watch, with him.. just focus on him. But I need another cup. And more poems to the b/log before day’s stamping, before dinner tonight at Mom & Dad’s.
No run this morning, and my ‘half’ is one week from today, the 18th, not the 17th as I thought just up till yesterday. Need to fit in 4 strong runs before.. 2 tomorrow (one after class, the other with the group), one Tuesday morning, another on Wednesday, then Friday.. that’s 5. Even better. No beer or wine till after race, starting tomorrow.
Stuck now.. and I hate being stuck, stopped, still.. maybe I should be still for a bit. Couldn’t hurt to try, see what happens.. pen at ready. And I need to count…
key sounds, office, telling me
that it’s where work is,
the patterns, and that phone ring,
like poison, nothing edible, stay away from
the kitchen, it’s all toxic– desks, files, supplies, we’re all flies,
and the walls are on us
cubicle color– no pattern, texture or depth, just death