4:35PM.

Santa Rosa adjunct cell.  Had a coffee and peanut butter cookie when I arrived.  Eager for actual dinner later.  Running tomorrow through Sunday, and I can’t wait.  May need another coffee, and whatever the first one did for me quickly fades.  But I’ll just get a regular this time.  Just sent writings to SSU chair.. see what she says.  I’m eager, and I hope it clearly demonstrates to her just how eager I am.. remember, I’m a JC student, looking to transfer to a university, that’s my mindset.  Maybe I should go to the library.. yes!  True students, nor Jack Kerouac, would doom themselves to this box.  I hate boxes, remember?  That office in Napa.. I’ll never go back, to anything like that.  I still have no idea how I survived.

Over a thousand for the day.  I know just what to research in the library.. precisely what!  I’m on my own Beat and it feels stupendous.. lively!

I’m in the library, and I just injected $7 into a new copy card, just went through over 2 dollars of it printing a critical Article on Kerouac, his struggle for enlightenment (Todd Giles).  Never heard of the article’s author, but I feel like a student again.. right now I’m in one of the study rooms with a view of the floor, students studying, on computers already this semester doing research for who knows what, depends on discipline.  Breaking all my writings down and sectionalizing them.. just remembered have to email Dav his letter.  BUT ANYWAY, I’m in my old mode.. a student.  Like Kerouac, I need movement and I need knowledge, the Newness that I’m constantly talking to students about.

Just posted notes to teaching blog.  This b/log, bottledaux, WILL die at year’s end, which counting today gives it 127 days of Life/writing left.  Need to write some 500 words or so, maybe more– or maybe a letter to the students, about a thousand words, for next session, addressing the large reading assignment I today assigned, will assign the 6PM group.  So lovely, this is love, being here, in this library.. I’m never again sitting in that goddamn adjunct cell.  NEVER.  Kerouac would be here, so would Joyce, Plath.. Hem would more than likely find a bar or café, and that’s fine, but I’m here now, a student, harshly rushing for the university as I used to.  If I let the 6PM-ers go early like I did the other sections, I should come back here, to this very spot and if I can’t then find somewhere else, and print another article.  Have a feeling that I’ll cruise through that 7 dollars quite quick, so much so I’ll be dizzied, and I want to be; I want to wander this library looking for answers and questions, maybe more questions than answers.  I guess I’ll find out.  But I’m renewed, reinvented.  And no, this is not some “new era,” as that pig said one day during the morning meeting.  The era’s always been here.  It’s more than an era.  It’s ME.  And I have new breath, new vision and scope and sight and sense.  Try to stop me, devil, I dare you!