Spider Strings

11/4/14.  Day off but not.  So here’s the strategy:  10 papers at a time, then break, back to writing, break it up and finish something today, either a standalone or .. something.  I want a certain type of writing life and today I take it.  So here I go…..

9:10AM, and ten items graded already, touching two classes, the SRJC sections.  Nursing my mocha as the caffeine from this morning’s kitchen visits still horns at me.  My intention with today is to make a sizable dent in the grading load and show what adjuncts go through.  Don’t forget, I took a PTO day today to do this grading (taking a day off to work, what the fuck?), and I’m only working in the wine world as there are no full-time jobs teaching at the college level.  But never mind that, I’m here, with all these papers on the floor, and the teaching Comp Book as a writing/grading surface.  And I have to say, a couple of the submissions I’ve read thus far have surprised me, especially with the depth implements, about Hemingway and his writing and how he sees Paris.  Going to bring this laptop to the car shop later, appointment at one.. and whoso, I’m afraid I may back out.  Costs too much for me at the moment.  These blogs are free, essentially, and don’t put me or my writing or family in any jeopardy.  Rather than a magazine, I’ll make whoso into a writer’s group, focused on odd writings and nonconformity with structure and imagistic flashes, and even grammar.  And just one blog!  maddenedread, my “teaching” blog, more than likely will see its final day come 12/31/14.  Not bottledaux.  I’m distancing myself from– I don’t know what.  Oh, now I remember, looking for FT positions, teaching English at some little college, me willing to go as far south as Monterey or Salinas.  But nothing.  NOTHING goddamnit!  How can I not become disenchanted with education when adjuncts are so abused and disposed of and just constantly carrot-slapped?  Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad I have the wine world at my back, always something there to do, or to entertain as possible something, some position or something new to learn.  And I think journalistically, wine is my Beat.  Politics will be my drug, how I get thought highs and how I just get blitzed with how bizarre it all turns out, always.  Need to go down the street, vote.  Not that I think it’ll do much good.  The republicans are assured everything but a knockout victory.  Or exactly that, a bloody KO.  But I’ll do my part, do what I know I have to, and any political junkie should vote even if they have the same hopeless slouch I do right now.

Just remembered, can’t drive anywhere, ‘cause of the car.  Ugh…  But probably a good thing.  Back to the papers, 10 more.  Don’t care if they’re short responses or the longer Wolff papers.  Not overthinking this.  At all.

Only reached five papers, halfway through this second stack.  Writing not as good and the mechanical discrepancies are nearly too much for my eyes and patience.  I feel the caffeine fading.  I should be out running, but I can’t.  Too much coffee, mocha, and that goddamn vanilla latte shit.  Just five more, I can do it…

There.  Finished the other 5.  Now what?  Shower?  Nap?  Sick of this mocha.  I don’t need anymore caffeine.  Car appointment isn’t for another 3 hours.  Ugh… writer woes.  Get stuff off the desk upstairs?  Backup documents on this laptop?  I need to write pen2paper more.  A lot more.  So what am I doing typing then?  I don’t know, I do like the immediacy of it.  And I hate to admit that but if I’m all about truth as Hemingway was then there’s a truth for you, reader.

Out of shower.  10:46AM, going to go for a walk, vote.  Just sent a 1100 word piece to the New Yorker.  My third submission logged.  Next, the short story I wrote, that I sent to Dav, “No Notice”.  I’ll send that to McSweeney’s and maybe enter it into some contest just to do so.  A freelancer, page prancer, fuck it all– I’m just writing for my life.  Hunger’s a GREAT discipline!