10:27PM–  I, hours later, realize what’s before me.  Research, the student life, again.  I don’t have to be accepted into some program to be a student, or have some “advisor” give me permission to be specialized in something.  Had some of Dwight’s beer tonight.  More than surely, one of the best brews I’ve in some time tried, sipped.  The drive tomorrow, the drive…  Can’t wait.  This semester, I’m considering, my first Road assignment.  The “commute”, which always has negative bringings, shamefully, but this term is only reward, and I can’t wait till my notice is given, my last day.  This semester will serve as catalyst.  Will miss the tips, thought, like what I was handed today– $40 from one couple and like $13 from another at the main bar.  All this is: realia, my days delivered in doses, to fiction, or non, whatever mood best serves.  Thinking in a reservation forest– reserved to publish, not hesitant but cautious, mistrusting…  My writer friend, or one of them, hesitant to write, or just procrastinating.  Know how that is.  I dream of her prose, how she struggles as I do.  Those not writing, just reading others’ MSS don’t get it.  But I do.  We do.  She expresses the same frustration as I do with transferring pen-to-paper writings to a device, these laptops.

6:50AM, 8/11, and I think of the grading I have to do.  Bringing that with me.  I’ll be hitting both campuses, simulating an actual Monday/Wednesday- up to Ukiah then back down to JC campus.  Going through Kerouac’s entries last night, I have ideas for exploring his character and showing students what to find out about an author before reading his/her work.  All that’s on my mind, my classes, getting more than a simple “head start” today.  Nothing else exists but my work today, just the classes; the new students, the notes I’ll have prepared, and when that’s all done, I’m guessing around 3PM, at least that’s my target, then I’ll switch to complete writing mode, shoving words into the novel.  Thinking…  all books I need, new Comp Book, notes.. start:

First thing you need to buy for this class, a Comp Book, then Kerouac’s ‘Road’–

But even before that, let’s talk.. One’s story.. so what?

This semester is meant to show students not only that they can write but they should keep writing, that they should not just “believe in themselves”, but demand from themselves– have to write that down in Comp Book before I forget.

So thankful for this coffee, much more motioned.  Ms. Alice, still in bed, while Jack plays and runs about talking to me in English quite clear and analytical.  I’m beyond impressed.  There’s a horn sounding in me, to start packing now, get read for the day, my Road trip north to Ukiah, and know just what it is what I want, not just from day and semester, but in the encompassing now.  Getting Kerouac journal entries from nook table, I’ll skim through them here while on couch with Jack.  Tired of pressing these laptop buttons anyhow.

The goal of this semester is also to permanently push myself into a prosperous penning pattern– taking me to the Literary Life that all writers, notably this one, have ever-envisioned.  To New York, down to FLA, over to Texas, up to Arizona, then up the coast.. everywhere, everywhere.  All my materials and bag by door.  I’m ready for day 1…  objectives: have first two lectures written, word for word, assignments planned, and class questions prepared.  I’m be free from the clock in no time at all, liberated and vindicated.