to do additional planning for 1A and I just stopped the timer, left with 27 seconds.  Now I can enjoy my own parables in this meditation, and the quiet of Emeritus Hall.  Glad my wife pushed me to attend the Development Day, Thursday.  I’m quite looking forward to it with all the instructors I’ll talk to, all the new teaching methods and exercises I’ll pocket.. very excited, I will say, and I’ve had such an attitude since I woke this morning, just before my alarm was to sound at 5:20.  Time now: 6:18, and my laptop runs out of power.  I helped myself to one of the notebooks, for taking mind you, from the mail room.  This one belongs to a student, don’t know when as I didn’t survey the dates too closely nor for too long in the 3 second quickwalk from the mailroom back to this adjunct cell, but it’s full of freewrites and musings and notes.. a story, or at the very least a sketch of a JC student.  Something about this morning and this preview to Feb 10 has me optimistic and aloft in my thoughts.. I’m more than prepared for class, my words are already accumulating and assembling thematically for day, the 91st in this project’s stretch!  Can you believe it?  91 tracked days of 3 or more pages!  And anyone who doubts my devotion to writing…  Anyone who argues this is not with the significance of some “job”…  This is WHO I am, not just what I do, it’s more than a job.. the concept of a job is rounded and readied in predictability and singular dimensionalism.  The logs I keep, the journals I maintain and promulgate and this project especially illustrates and electrically punctuates what THIS is to me.. this is my ‘It’.

May cruise to Sonoma Valley AVA today, rather than run right when I leave PC, as to introduce or re-introduce mySelf to a couple TR’s along 12, or just enjoy an afternoon off.. I will run, but only the 3 mile jaunt I mentioned to Alice yesterday, just down Yulupa, turn right at Hoen, run for about a minute or so then turn around.. or maybe 4, FOUR miles.  Three’s not enough, and I’m sure any runner, my wife especially, would agree.  Coffee with me now, time 6:24, energy leaving laptop. Goddamnit!  Wait– I do have the power cord with me, right? In my bag?  Yes, but that will eat at least 30 if not more seconds to attach to wall.  I’m all about Time today, and enjoying each tick of the devilish clock.. oh look at me swing across these keys and jump into my day with no fear, nor questions, nor reservations.  I know just what I want and I will have it, as I look left, see the back cover of my edition of Moveable Feast, Mr. Hem looking to his right, slightly, then I flip it over to see a younger Him looking right at me, as if telling me “Stay strong and stay writing, the writer doesn’t listen when he doesn’t want to and he writes when he considers it called.. just write, Mike, forget everything and everyone.” Thanks, Papa!  So I do just that and how he says, I only recognize I’m in the adjunct cell, which I don’t much anymore regard as a cell so much as safe corner for me to gather mySelf and of course write but more for character collection, and bloody quiet!  11 more minutes of Composition is what I’ll allow–  And how he starts his book, with the weather, him simplifying it down to “bad” and mentioning all the people and their drunkenness and their less than favorable conditions. Mr. H was out there, not just figuratively with his habits and discipline and observational momentum, but he was in public, writing and observing and making stories from what he saw.  It was all material, much the same as Kerouac, but with more of a sternness and dire diligence.. interesting!  6:30, on nose.  And in the classroom, I’ll write in this journal or “TOPS” spiral pad, formerly owned by a student whose name I see now was, or is, Deshawn.  I like that name, it screams youth to me but also strength, and making something of yourself at such a young age.. on the first page of his journal, he writes: “Going into a fresh new summer was really exciting, even though I knew going into the summer I was going to be busy with football I was still really excited for it.” The lack of punctuation screams not only his age but also his rush, his passion and urgency, and confidence.  I’m rather excited to read on.  Mind you, there’s only a handful of pages that follow, not a full notebook, but enough to pull from, I’m sure.  I envy Deshawn, his youth and promise and going to school and chasing what he wants.  I’m doing the same, especially since Jan 28.  The coffee kicks in, and I think about the day ahead of me, going to one of my many writing spots and typing till my hands are crippled, or maybe just walk in with a notebook– yes, that’s what I should do, I shouldn’t bring this thing out anymore, just leave it at home.. all the pictures you see of Hem or Kerouac or Plath writing, a better 99% of them, when they’re writing, is of them holding a pen and pushing it to sheet, not with a typewriter, and certainly not with one of these devilish devices.  So to the classroom I go, so positive and confident and ready for the next two hours or so of instruction.  Plath, Dickinson, and Papa are there to help.. wish I could bottle what I feel about now, my Now, about today, about the victorious vortex belting me.. Love and Peace pulsating from my pages, forever!  (6:39AM)