So today I’m deciding to make great in a myriad of ways, diversifying my approaches to all things writing. And teaching, of course. Already one cup in, 7:03, and the next is about to be cued. Ms. Alice said, “It’s your choice,” regarding my temperament today, and I agree. After dropping off the little Beat, I’ll come right back here, home, and remain here till late afternoon.. first, clean desk– or actually that’s second. FIRST, I’ll write, get to page three then break. Then finish that goddamn poem. Then clean and de-clutter. Run will be later in afternoon and shorter than yesterday’s 5, which I still very much feel. Have to send email to lady, another lady, different from yesterday.. then probably back to writing, getting out some 4000 kingly words, watch me. That’s what would make the day great, memorable and changing. Hook up printer, want to print today, surely. And now, I remember what one of my undergrad professors, Carla S, said about me, that ‘I’d be a boon to the students and their written and read developments, surely.” So why would I ever deviate, why did I? From anything not written, or bound into a book? Nevermind that, I keep my fingers typing before the second cup and watch Jack watch his beloved Mickey Mouse show. The house, with scattered items after a visit from his friend Addison, later last night. What else can I get done today? The checklist, that for everyday, which I rarely write down.. the main priority morsel, if nothing else, is to write, find pages on the floor, what I’ve written, my own scroll if you will. I love the blog but I woke this morning thinking I should be offgrid, silent, invisible for a day, not posting to the blog; not checking email and not going to any bloody social media sight; forwarding as a true writer! Marching in my manuscript’d moments. Watch me, watch me.. I’ll do it today and everyother day forward. The sun not yet out, and I’m typing with this speed, like I have a paper to do, that’s soon due, just like my students, I love this role and I want to study again– PhD fantasy? Going forward? Maybe! Maybe that’s why it happened, or it is, so I have a chance to do what I really want to, have always wanted to– thoughts of my colleague, Michael the Fulltimer, finishing his dissertation on Kerouac.. Ohio State? Thinking of studying, digging deeper into the text! For my students, yes, but for my life as well. True Life! Truth!
Quite a bit of cleaning and decluttering done, but I need more Room, more space– the Zen cloud seraphically resounding in my sphere.. have to finish that poem today, at some point. After reaching page 3 which I’m about to do. Can’t believe how much spare and loose and stray change was in the teaching bag. How did it all get there, randomly wandering like I do in meter and syllable, like Plath and Kerouac, and now my Beat and momentum change, last mocha sip. Shit! My Beat burdened by normality’s anesthesia, coaxing what, still don’t know. I should just make another cup downstairs– tempted to leave house to go for drive and get coffee with some of this change but I can’t, “I’m in Monsanto’s cabin,” I remind myself. There is no Starbux around here, in the Sur woods. I’ll stay here, in this chair which used to be Dad’s and grow, I finally know what it is, IT, precisely what I was written to do; Personhood and poise, purpose, no divine dote just my own story, one I wrote, was forced to write. So thanks, industry!