…my developing Personhood, finally now

at 35, or soon 36.  THIRTYFUCKINGSIX.  How?  When did that happen?  And why?  Life by me, like yesterday and all days.  I remember the night before my son was born I walked the hospital with my Comp Book, wrote everything down, and everyone, every thought the night before I was a father, responsible for this little Arist, who still upstairs sleeps.  Good for him, he needs to enjoy this Sunday with his mother as tomorrow’s back to a grind for all of us.. Alice back in her classroom and me to the TR, again with my new teaching days being T/TH.  I stop typing to think, then I reignite.  For what?  Just acknowledging my moment, and that moments aren’t forever they’re not even extended, they’re cruel and brief, but rewarding somehow.  This moment, or ‘Now’ as I say, brings with it a spilling Newness, but leaves, but even in its rushedness I see and sip and grow from its inherent gem.  I’m alive, able, acknowledging.. meaning in everthing: Jack’s toys, the TV even, the heater, this morning, the copy of the NYT that’s I’ll buy and take off the rack, who I’ll see in line getting coffee– people I don’t know but with stories and worries and families, jobs, Lives, but different.  Most don’t see this, they’ll be on their phones, staring at that miniscreen in line not even knowing the line’s moved.

Dad and I have always discussed Life and society and morality, how they all overlap and are inconsistent and wondrous, and frustrating.  But this morning I’m seeing all with different scope, a strange optimism I guess, is it?  Nothing’s without impact on Personhood, on the moment, the Now, but it’s what we acknowledge that has the larger influence, what shapes us and affects our interchanges with others, and that shapes society.  But, again, many don’t See.  They’re staring at that thing, that device, or self-aggrandizing, self-addicted, encased in their webbing needs, wants.  So I’m citing problems, do I have solutions?  Yes.  But only for myself and how I can “contribute”.  So does that make me a self-toiling lewdster?  Eh…

I’m only getting a bit silly now as I’ve been writing for well over an hour and am well past 2,000 words, but that’s me and this is what I love, this is what Love is for me, and Life, and all that makes me ME.  And in that reality I See.  ‘Seeing’ isn’t just simple observation and routine reflection, it’s invitation, and invite to become part of Self and grow and explore, self-education, and who knows what else.  7:51, morning, and it’s quite lit outside.  Day’s here.. Sunday.  Which means.. what.. Sunday, just that.  Yes, now I’m just goofy.  But I deserve some clownish trotting after cerebral addresses, no?  I should start that coffee, but not before touching the 5th page, or should I wait till 8?  Circles, circles, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Emerson was talking about.. And that quiet again.  Why does that startle me so?  Who knows.  ugh, I don’t want to go, not to that tasting room again– don’t think like that, embrace it, embrace the reality the assignment the Now, it’s part of the story and the Story orders you to rise, stop writing, get in the shower, but not before checking on little Kerouac, and Alice, and then to shower.. NYT, Sunday, can’t wait to see you…..