5:23PM. Feeling much better

after Jackie came back, and I have more optimistic steppings in my fold, my character and sight.  A minute ago, I thought about something Mom messaged me, stating I shouldn’t stress about things or matters not in my control. and this brings me again to the concept of meditation, the Zen practice, to the concept of Wellness introduced as it was the other day on campus.  So this evening, I had planned to get all the photos off my phone, and I know that will take a while and I may not be able to attach an image to this post, but so what.. what matters it the writing anyway, right?  I want people to see me as a writer and I am a writer and I act like a writer, even going to lengths of depriving myself something I want, like now: I’d very much like a beer but I’ confirmed in the share between spirit and sense that it wouldn’t be best for my system now, so I stop.  And I’ll see how long I can carry this energy, the non-sipping notedness of it all, of me, this new me in my bout with this bug.

Alice and Jack at the park with Lorielle and Addison.  I didn’t go as I had to write, and show Self that I could come up here to the bedroom office, if you could call it that, and cut through a composition.  The ledger I wrote of earlier, right below my elbows.. I stress about the possibility of not following through with logging all my writings in it, I did, I still do, but why?  Just do your best, Emerson would be proud, he is, this Poet and American “Scholar”.  Need to gather Self tonight for a day of work tomorrow, indeed; all my books and notebooks and thoughts on Hemingway and Plath and Dickinson, and maybe a little Dostoyevsky, who knows.  Or Tolstoy!  I want to through in a ‘random’ on Tuesday, if I may.  Jazz in the room and I do feel musical and free and not at all stressed.  Could use a sparkling water and some new thoughts and new words, new concepts and ideas that would ‘wow’ people around me, that if someone or a group of someones heard me speak at a conference they couldn’t help by sigh, gasp, listen…  Read an article, a short one, about someone being asked what they wanted their legacy to be.  It made them cry.  Me, I get vocal, then quiet.  I want to be remembered as a writer, reader, thinker, that I always thought and I always had questions, not necessarily ones that needed answering, but ones for which I track solutions on my own.  And for my morality, my moral set, my moral writings.. remember earlier in this project, I think during one of the Kenwood lot sessions, I wrote ‘Moral Philosophy FOREVER’.  And the morals of a character greatly determine their character and their choices and how they’re read.  Just put together a ‘for downstairs pile’.. and my realistic goal for the evening, post to teaching blog.. one hundred words, one image, that’s it!  Not a drop of material more!

My boy enjoys his third birthday, he and Alice and I all getting a hearty nap, about two and half hours, maybe a couple strings more.  And there you go.. we’re all re-energized and my son is three, a very vocal and playful and curious THREE.  IS this a victory for time or me?  Hard to tell at the moment, something I have to think about.  I continue to type till I hear another car speed down Yulupa.. there it is .. then I listen to this tune, “Reconciliation” by Andrew Hill.  Want to hear jazz live, at some point, hear the air fly through the trumpet or sax, and the percussionist doing what he does, wildly, just hitting the hats then snares, bass kicks between, then having the whole audience guessing, ‘now what’s he gonna do?’.  Jazz and I have a relationship I’ve found, not just in the spontaneity of it, but in the impact of so little.. right now, piano and drums, not much bass.. but the rhythm and pacing of the song has me awake, attentive, and trying to mimic it with how I jump and slither through the keys.. now I would a beer.  Or maybe wine.  No…