…maybe I shouldn’t be so judgmental or presupposing. Maybe he owns his own business, contracts this work and does quite well. I don’t have for– that’s at the peak, the highest and most atmospheric of my wish list. So cheers to this man carrying that plastic can. If that is in fact the story with him.
8:57, and I agree with my pace this morning. About to head to the small postoffice and mail Dav’s materials, finally. Idea for short: teacher that thinks of retiring after hearing back from an education journal, asking him to speak at a school near its office. He accepts the invitation, speaks, then is asked to consult at that school and others nearby. He doesn’t but wishes he would have. Writes several lectures and talks to be given to his high school teaching colleagues. First, at a meeting. Average reception.. second, typed and printed and put into mailboxes.. then… not sure where it goes from there. Just something I’m thinking of. Staying in journal for now.
Burrito done. Weedblower right behind my car. Annoying. But I shouldn’t be writing here, truth told. Time to mail Dav’s papers. Where are they?… Somewhere in that workbag of mine. And that’s another part of teaching–or adjuncting–that I deplore, carrying that goddamn bag around. No wonder my lower back hurts from time to time. It’s not the running. Now quiet. No groundsmen around me. Strangely I feel alone, ignored, left to my word warpings and idea slab.
9:21PM. Just went outside to laundry room to see if clothes were ready, and no– boring, I know. But rain is coming, and the run for tomorrow morning, around 4 or 4:15 is still on. No wine tonight. And no ice cream. About to have 7UP as night’s cap. Tomorrow night I’ll open a Lancaster, probably an SB. More than likely will be raining while I run in the dark. Never done so and only have one such early morning run under belt, so I have no idea what to expect maybe some odd sounds or other early runners, hope I see one or two, no way I’ll see three. I’ll be charging phone tonight and ready for this run– nearly feel like I do the night before a race. Honestly. And when back in home, I’ll write, hopefully a couple hundred words in journal, maybe start a standalone from the notes I took today at Palooza. Only had one beer, wrote at counter instead of my upstairs safehouse or office. Need to bring Jeff a bottle of wine sometime, show him how much I appreciate his pervasive and steadfast hospitality. Thought of starting a series of standalones rooted in that beer room, something like ‘The Palooza Pages’, or ‘Pub Sketches’, or.. ‘beer writes’. Again, just playing with ideas at the moment. whoso due tomorrow, basically, but I won’t make deadline. Goddamnit! I’ll finish editing on the night of Nov 1st, my writing retreat night, and bring to printer the next morning. That’s what must be done for me to move on and out of wine industry grips.
7UP open. Only taking a couple sips then I quit. Don’t want to be in constant visit to the bathroom, so like I said, only a couple extractions. My anterior caprice…