5:41, Jackie up as he couldn’t open his eyes from whatever made them water so, associated with his bug and we’ve been up since. Jack woke us both, quite scared, and he caused me to fly up the stares as I slept down here from he waking at around 9-something first, demanding he sleep in our bed. So I was stationed down here, not sleeping much as I heard his whines and cries last night, Alice comforting him. Now we watch cartoons, play with toys, and count down till his 10:30 appt, Kaiser, which I don’t care for and neither does Alice with all their regiments and schedules and putrid protocols. The coffee machine cued, I’ll have one before my scheduled time to sleep, 7:15 or thereabouts. Jackie appears quite happy in his rummage through the cars, trucks, humming as he crosses the floor, higher octave, like he’s in charge. Don’t think he takes kindly to my typing, that I’m not devoting all attention to him, and I can’t blame him, not at all, what am I doing.. “Daddy, close it!” he growls. Okay.
Minutes later I say, “Jackie can Daddy do some work?” No, says. We negotiate for a while with me insisting I’ll get in trouble if I don’t work, whereupon in my white lie I feel a bit guilty, but relieved I can come back to the page and record the hour I’m in, a dad, caring for my little boy, making him feel more comfortable. LAter today I’ll leave for campus, and lock myself in the adjunct cell, writing and organizing the pieces in this laptop. Brewed my coffee and I took two wide sips, so I’m a bit electric at moment, just watching him hum and arrange vehicles and other pieces on the carpeted chest, he watches cartoons in short stops, then goes back to his own imagination which is a much better show.
In the kitchen I thought of the idea, again, having my own bar or café, writing about it along the way, and I’m not sure that’s something that’s for me. I mean look at me now, I can’t even be fully connected to my own son, with his little trot and charm, as I can’t stand to be away from the page for too long, I have to be writing, and owning a bar or coffee shop is more than a fulltime commitment, or marriage, or whatever. It’s just not for me. I’d rather have the luxury of writing about it, then leaving the café or bar when I’ve reached my target. Still dark outside, and Jack’s more mobile that I can be presently. And I just realized that the project ends, 11 days from now. Again, if my count has kept correct. But what should I do, count again? Go over the days of the calendar? Not now. I need to think about the next project.. the Massamen book, the first one, him fighting his adjunct war with more tools.. so what is his goal, what does he truly want? Not to be full-time, but to be lecturing independent, as a “scholar”, he guesses, or just a wandering teacher.. he’s not set on being a writer like me, but he does write, of course, just as a consequence of how he teaches and lectures, writing everything down. He starts with Emerson, where I start with Kerouac, and he pulls little bits and paragraphs from RWE’s essays and poems and expands in his own fashion– or not his own ‘fashion’, but in his own scope. After being released from the full-time job he had to have at the wine market, which he had to have for benefits (as adjuncts never get benefits, at least not at his institution), he has more time more life more of everything he needs to find his way to the traveling, to the other campuses, and that’s one of his prime aims: to be mobile in his teaching, not on the same campus, he’d be traveling like he did as an adjunct, but just more expansively and diversely.
My Emerson book’s upstairs, and Alice is asleep so I don’t want to intrude and possibly wake her… So I look online for excerpts from some of my favorite essays of his, ‘American Scholar’, ‘Nature’, ‘The Poet’.. oh, and ‘Self-Reliance’, of course (if you know me). All on individuality and peace and personhood, doing what you love! How can that not be admired or practiced. This is what my character will pride himself upon, and he’ll only teach what he firmly believes in his deepest heart of honest and TRUTHful hearts. May offer some such ideas on Tuesday, after the rough draft workshop session, both classes, and the professional development day or whatever, Thursday, I’ll spend in the library, perfecting this new embrace of Emerson and apply it to the upcoming texts.. ‘Bell Jar’ in 1B, ‘Feast’ in 1A– Jackie complains of no more room for his toys on the chest’s surface, I have to smile and laugh a little, as I realize this is a consequence of passion and ardentness in his vision and project down here at this early hour. He breaks to watch a little of the newest toon, some pirate show (Jake and the Neverland Pirates, I think it’s dubbed)… And I need more coffee. Only took those inaugural sips when I first it brewed.
One end of the chest’s surface, actually both, slope down slightly, so in that there are too many cars “parked” as Jackie insists, atop, the start to fall, he’s running out of spaces to park his toys, and becomes frustrated. I go over to help as much as I can but am not much an aide. He breaks again, as do I to come over here, put the red blanket over my legs again, and type. Think it’s raining outside.. is it? I hear what I think are drops on the other side of the sliding glass door and out front, other side of front, the drops slapping the pavement carelessly. 6:24, and the rain does come back. So what do I do differently? Maybe it’s just meant to be noted, not necessarily infused into the prose.