3 pages excerpt (11/29/14– no edits)

Still waking up.  Think the coffee may be a bit stronger that I’m expecting, or my body’s expecting.  Sip the next cup slow, much slower.  And the rain, nothing.. not a drop I hear.  I’m sure it’ll pick up later, but I need it now to convince me.  Of what, “Convince you?” Yes.  That today will be part of the story that needs to be read and that tonight will produce more material than last.  That I can write whatever I want and I can’t ask what I’ll write today as the story hasn’t started.  So in that case, in that respect I mean, I’m a follower, just walking just behind or alongside the day itself.  Need a café.  OR, I need more so a day off to enjoy the café.  Four more sessions for Mendo, counting final.  Five for JC, counting last day, handing in final paper.  I did it.  But as Dav predicted, I’m “burnt out”.  Not doing that again ever, ever.  Well, as long as I’m near 40 hours, and sometimes over, at the winery.  Glad I had the good sense to get shaving cream last night on the way home.  Not in the mood to go outside now, not yet.  upping volume on jazz, there I’m waking, and the coffee lands on my CNS to liven me and my character and I won’t stop in my types, not this morning or ever.  And I won’t be stopped or distracted or slowed, just the way I am when running.  I never stop till I reach time or mileage, like my 10.5 miler on .. when?  Oh, Thanksgiving.  Can’t believe that’s over, already, time just flying by like pilots avoiding a storm; and time’s avoiding me, avoiding my want to appreciate the story more, no it just moves.  Another cup…

Of course my luck, having to fill that water tower (think that’s what it’s called), costing more time and more of the morning so I run to catch up, like when you have to stop your run around Spring Lake or wherever ‘cause you see you lace undoing.  You don’t want to stop but you have to, and I did, and I’m back.  Full cup need to let cool so I listen to the jazz and relax into this cushion as my son does.  “I’m cozy,” he now often relays.  As am I, Jackie, and I still rejoice that I didn’t have more wine than I did last night.  In fact, recalculating, I only had a beer and some of my Merlot that I opened night before last.  Any effect left by my sips is long away, precipitating a lively Mike, one I like/love, one my son and wife would be proud of here writing and thinking of ways to get us out of this condo and into a nice home, giving Jackie a little backyard and Alice and I a study or office of some kind.  She needs one just as much as I do, probably more given she’s a full-time teacher, always lessonplanning and arranging her activities for students in certain ways (if that’s how I should phrase).. I’ve always praised Alice’s staunchness with her teaching ambitions, never having to pour wine in a tasting room or get some second job.. study that, study that I tell myself.  And I am.  I have been, but I don’t know what precisely to conclude.  Well, one thing: do something specific everyday to get you to where you truly see yourself.. that vision, remember?  But I look on the CCC and no full-time professor jobs.  Shit!  So what else.. lecture independently, speak on Beat ideology and Buddhist principles, my understanding and research on Zen.. Kerouc & Hem, then by extension Emerson and Thoreau, then a bit of Plath (introspection)–  You know what, I should write this down on paper, in the teaching Comp Book, but don’t go past 5 focus authors, king obviously being Kerouac.. was thinking David Eggers but I don’t know his work well enough shamefully.  I’ll post to the teaching blog before jumping in the shower– shit, if I have enough time.  It’s already 7:40.  IS that sun?  See?  If the weatherbums can have a job doing what they’re doing then I can to.  I’m much stronger and apt and respectable a writer than they are doing.. whatever it is they do.  Which in my opinion is a mine of nothing.