first page of day 60, no edits

Day starts with breakfast, a shower, a walk with Ms. Alice & the little Beat. Semester starting in 3, run tomorrow. And I can’t wait to run in GG park, by the ocean, Alice will be driving down, long way since GG is closed for the installation of a centerdivide, not sure why it took so long, but… And on the run tomorrow, who knows how it’ll shape my character, what I’ll think about. This run, and the others I’m doing this year, the ‘full’ as well as the others registered for, sure to add content. And if I run more I write more? Is that the equation, the reality before me? Hard to tell. Alice’s friend Katie to be here soon so I don’t have much time to write and I have to move quick and only think about the next submission, the deadline, tomorrow with that run. I’ll start slow, find my way out of whatever pockets I get caught in then sprint away, down to the ocean (if I was reading the map correctly).
More poems.. one a day, no matter the length. Just something, one standalone. The one I started yesterday, to be returned to when I get back, tomorrow at some point. I know, I should be working on my syllabi but I’m not much in mood at the moment– but maybe I should see if one’s posted online for 1B, just to see how those fulltimer pigs have it drawn up. From the ones I’ve seen they’re hardly done correctly, but they don’t have to play by the goddamn rules, right? They fulltime. Again, I’ll tend to this tomorrow. Right now I just want to have my head in a runner’s space, and observe as Kerouac did when I run, just ingest images and whatever’s later recalled is worthy of page. Jackie right now sits on the floor, plays with a dinosaur book that propels sounds at the reader when the page is turned, and these sounds are quite believable in their guttural flappings. I admire his love for books, so young and so electric when he turns the pages and how he loves when I or Alice read to him right before bed. Another dino book he has very much committed to memory, reading alone quite loudly as my eyes slide from letter to letter. And anything with dinosaurs will bring my little Artist to Life. Just a while ago, a bit over an hour, Alice took him to the Dollar Store and bought a rather sizable speciese, bluish gray with intended claws and accented jaws.s
Back from laundry room here in complex. My new obsession, not really new but more defined: a house, for my little Artist, and Ms. Alice. We looked at one today and yes it looked comfortable and appropriate, likable from the outside, but it wasn’t what I envision, part of the vision, “I need to save more,” I thought, pushing little Kerouac in the stroller, or “Bobby” as he calls it. More poetry, more short standalones, more more more writing, sell it all! All of it!s Jackie laying on the floor beside me, think he’s tired, but I’m very much awake thinking of our first house, and I need it to have an office for me, that’s a must, I want to mimic Dad’s habits in both the houses we has growing up– well, 3 counting the Mountain Hawk property.
Katie should be here soon, so I should journal jump from these launched paragraphs in this hundred day memoir snapshot to my verses, what I’ll read this year, I’ll read just like I run, schedule everything, everything– Swim for sensibility, pensive in my proclivities… — Will finish later, and this one I will finish, perform, two to three pages for this piece. I want to be a poet as much as I am a novelist and memoirist. Prose is pertinent in my day but poetry is what started my journalist and written Roads. Living from lyrics, rhymes, so many do that, why can’t I? “Why don’t you?” I ask myself. I will, I will…