The adjunct thing, what kind of thing, a con a soap opera, a mess, an everything and a fruitless nothing pit at once. So I’m stopping. I’m teaching, is what I think, what I tell myself and how I’ll see it. Just teach a class here and there. MY career is writing, and I guess wine, I guess. And blogging, reporting my life to interested and relevant and engaged readers, although modern readers are rarely engaged. But the adjunct wheel receives no more acknowledgement from me. And I will not, I REFUSE, to be one of those adjunct who continues to bicker and complain and form into some argumentative and grieving porcupine in some halfwit newspaper or publication or blog. Life is far too short and since the passing of Uncle Ross I can only focus on life and live for him, for Grandma, for Mo’, for Nana, Aunt Terri, and everyone else who separated so soon.
In tasting room today and run after.. more steps toward total Zen and Wellness and more material, more Life, more to record and report. REMEMBER: talk less and write more. “The greatest happiness is to know the source of unhappiness,” Dostoevsky said, and when I don’t write and I don’t have time to write I become ravishingly discontent. I’ll bring a book with me today, more than likely the Kerouac Dreams, and note, certain words and thoughts and characters that come into the tasting room and what they say to the wines they sip and to each other, to use behind the bar. Again, all material, and all for my pages, that makes me happy. The fact that I’m only an adjunct at the JC, and that I have towers of papers now to grade and students coming up with excuses as to why they didn’t have their submission ready and why they need an extension (one of them), in no manner adds to any pleasure for the writer. So I move on, into more writing and into more projects, this ever-written novel and novels and reportings and recordings of what I observe.
I’m not ‘supplementary rather than an essential part.’. I AM the essential. And with this fervor and fortitude I depart…..