excerpt from 12/3/14 (3 pages project), no edits

…a slight suspension in the drenching inundation up here.  And…  A student.  He leaves after telling me he wants my help but he first needs to go to the Chase bank in town for something.  Why couldn’t he meet with me then go?  I didn’t ask.  At this point in the semester, I expect more.  From everyone.  And the room goes back to its empty.

12:04.  Class empty.  More than last time showed for the meeting.  Was just thinking of how I’d assess myself for the semester, I mean MY performance.  I think a low ‘B’.  I didn’t have as lively a consistency of lectures from beginning to end, which I know is hard to do but it’s still the expectation I wrap myself in.  Next term, the first semester of this New Mike vowed to deliver a delicious and confident contrast.  And I’m realizing now that Mendo is essentially done.  We’ll have the rough draft workshop on Monday, hand-in Wednesday, then close.  And I can’t wait.  I need a break.

We all do.

And more coffee.  That’ll be the first thing I do when at the JC campus.  Not that you needed to know that.  But I need coffee.  I always need coffee.  Much more than wine or beer, so much more.  That poison only slows the writer as I’ve said and as example it felt resplendent yesterday to be in my loft and sip my coffee, listen to the conversations downstairs and the overall activity of the pub.  All the stories in there, of how it came to and the people that bring their stories inside; why they frequent Palooza to why they’re craving a burger in that moment to why they live where they do.  That all walks through the front door with them.  I look around this room in its plain colored, mostly blue and gray, dullness and think “What the hell am I still doing here?” I can leave.  So why don’t I?  Good question.  I’m starving, though, I will say.  What can I get and where?  Would love one of those breakfast sandwiches that Starbucks makes, that egg and sausage one I’ve had before.

Yes, I’m deciding it’s time to leave as I see hear and want nothing here.  I’m gone and done.  To the car, to the rain, to denying death on 101 south…

2:18PM in the adjunct cell, SRJC and I just finished “grading” a bunch of longer responses.  Those who show today get their grade and those not are informed Monday.  Even more now I’m motivated to leave everything, wine and teaching, for the writing; hearing these full-timers talk about how their students aren’t doing this and they don’t get that and more and more grievances on how their writing is so atrocious that it shouldn’t even be graded.. “And I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know how he placed in 1A,” I just heard one of the say, while I was carrying this bag and coffee and blueberry muffin to the cell.  And now I’m here,..