Day 82, excerpts (no edits)

…we’d be watching football and enjoying snacks and just hanging out as we did yesterday (told him this yesterday, before leaving for Mom and Dad’s, for dinner, where Mom cooked some beef dish with mushroom and carrots in a crockpot).  Now I hear him talking.. poor Alice, I’m sure she wants to sleep.  I’ll go up there and get him, and when down here with me I’ll write that cover letter for Dominican.. would love to have a class there, make that drive DOWN 101 to Marin, or Kentfield, or San Rafael, wherever it is down there, waiting for me and my words and instruction–  Hear the monster, my little boy making his way, sneaking down the stairs, in the dark, don’t like when he does that I fear he might fall.  “Then why don’t you stop in your project’s current proffer and get him?” I do just that and find him progressing to the condo’s bottom level, step by step, on him bum.  And now he’s eating his waffles, playing with cars atop the toy chest.  And I’m the observant father who tries to write and bring his project to a close and think of what to do next best for his family, bring money in and impress his students and come off as some sort of expert but I know that’s not possible.  And expert?  No.  But energetic, passionate, involved and immediate, present?  Yes, undisputedly–  Jack continues to bring me toys and items he likes to play with and I offer interest but only so much as I can’t help but think about it, this last Wednesday and how Alice is with me going back to being a fulltime adjunct and building my CV and teaching, lecturing, writing.. more coffee this morning and I’ll have the day’s 3 pages by 10, or before.  Alice said she wanted to go into her school, her office and get some work done, I’m only supportive as her passion is never flimsy or sporadic, it’s fiery and Roman and expansive.  I bend in awe, watching her prep and leave early as she does.. soon, this will be me again– well, I do wake at 5-something to ready for the 1A this semester.  But I mean a more viral and daily footing, practice.

Exterior stage, present and visible.  The day’s aloft, in flight.  Noticing a change in my writing habits, how I can’t leave the page and I fear this project’s end.  Most would say, I’m sure, “Aren’t you looking to finishing it, being done?” Or, “100 days?  Of three pages?  Are you crazy?” Well, yes, to the later, and NO to the former-former.  Once it’s done, I have to edit, all 300+ pages.  Yes, loosely, but I do have to read my entire MS.  And what is it?  A memoir?  A journal?  A nonfiction novel?…

I have to edit, all 300+ pages.  Yes, loosely, but I do have to read my entire MS.  And what is it?  A memoir?  A journal?  A nonfiction novel?  The character Mike Massamen will be more direct and shining on page; he’ll take the adjunct dilemma into his hands like other adjuncts don’t, and can’t.  He sees the others on campus and dread becoming like them one day.  He wants to be different, seen as a writer and as a scholar, one more in advocation of reading and literacy than the others; and he’ll never be complacent like the fulltimers, ever, even if he does eventually become one.

Starting a new poem…  for the whoso magazine on blog…..  Perambulating about the page in verse and meter.  Just finished it, I think, don’t want to make it too long.  Think ‘No Why Of’ might be a bit long.  And I can’t edit it, already have it posted–  Tired.  Think I may have whatever’s making Jackie cough as he does.  The father struggles, and he content on couch watching cartoons he requested.  To much in thought bay, so I put down the laptop and meditate, think of nothing, or as close to it as I can.

11:39, Alice at school and Jackie and I hanging out here at house.  Email Dominican contact and filed for UI just to do it, but it’s clear I won’t get anything as I made too much money in Fall ’14 and still make too much now with the 2 sections, SRJC.  Kinda funny to think I make too much money… WEnt for walk with J and Alice up to BV hills, up Woodview, and it reminded me of summer mornings at Steve & Linda’s; coolm slight cloudcover and that wild smell of morning and foliage and plants, guys playing golf (which reminded me of Sunriver, not Stever & Linda’s property).  Walking back down the hill we saw a sizable coyote.  Alice was alarmed but J and I were intrigued.. he yawns now next to me, could be nap time for him soon, forgot what Alice said.  But one thing I remember her saying, yesterday, was that I’m happy again, now that I’m not at the bloody winery again.. I’m reborn in my studies and in my passion, with my students and in my life as a writer..  Should write a letter to Dav today, respond to the one I just received, and follow my idea of Gorgeous American Grim.  Think this may be the most explosive idea I’ve had so far as an instructor, or “scholar”.  And I’m going to become more competitive as a teacher, like I will as a writer–  I can’t believe it!  I’m free!  No more counting the goddamn register and no more morning meetings that accomplish nothing and no more 30minute “lunches”, rushing out of my loft to get back on their foolery clock.

I’ll be back at Acre, later, but I don’t think I’ll have their coffee.  Maybe something else.  Think they have wine, actually, a glass of something white maybe.  Something to relax me and write smoothly and fluidly and with rich melody in every word I put to page.  And I remember the promise I made, to myself and readers and this project: after day 100, I start the novel.  But which one, Krystal or Massamen.  Has to be Massamen…