rest

Over 2100 words in novel, syllabi copied, and now I rest, but only for a small second of a bit.  Have notes to take and I left one of my texts, Sedaris, at home.  No matter, I can still very much lecture and exchange ideas on this first day.  Quite a benefit to arrive to the mainland early.  And soprano-ly glad that I didn’t have a PC class.  Autumn Walk is only a little further from Petaluma’s campus than the Yulupa condo, but still, with the drive you notice it.

So much in my backpack still from last semester.  I’ll dump the excess right before class.  Go to the first session light.  And you know, I may go back to Autumn Walk for that Sedaris book, and to eat surely.. starved if you must know, and still tired but not as I was this morning.  I have to keep writing, get over 3000 words for the day.  The novel growing with its vocality and direction and layered dimensions.  Saw the dept chair a bit ago and he barely looked at me, gave a winded ‘hello’ while walking away.  Would get annoyed but my day’s too much wagered in this novel and what I want from this semester and what I have in terms of bills and responsibilities.  And I new idea comes to mind.. writer, write it down!  Done.  I feel renewed and re-written.  Is someone about to walk into this adjunct office?  No…  Heard someone with keys approaching but they passed.  So quiet on campus, in this Emeritus building.  More notes, and ideas of what to have up on screen.. will get to Room 1610 at 5, sharp, sharply, with a neverbeforeseen sharpness.

So I realize, it’s the ides of June, and I’m closer to the year’s end, and no more closer to the Road, or at least not that I can see…  So my only result remaining, or visible option, is ‘the drastic’.  Obsessive, even more obsessive writing and blogging and minimal editing, I don’t have time for that, relaying my adjunct and wine-loving identities and showing how so much they are linked.. but not too much in and on this blog– or maybe so, I just vow not to forget my dear Massamen novel.  I make more notes in between types, a loose time schedule for tonights first meeting.

Then the question in my head, as it more and more pesters me: “What’s the book about?” What if a student asked me that.. what would I say?  And is it about just ONE thing, or idea?  Uh, no, in a word.  Tragedy.. life.. travel.. pain.. discovery. I don’t know, I guess.  Does that diminish my credibility?  I don’t think so, really, as I’m not totally convinced Kerouac knew what he was writing about.  He just conveyed the narrative, Sal’s sight, and what the impact was characters and the Story itself as something autonomously cognitive.  Ramble, ramble.. what the adjunct can only do now, with no caffeine, no food in core, and just watching the clock him mock.  Bastard.

Out of this office in just a bit.  Getting a bit.. I don’t know if it’s stircrazy but it’s something I don’t like.  And I’ve realized, again, a couple times today, that if I’m not out there living and walking around and having interactions I can’t bloody write!  So I can’t write all the time!  I should just be noting, so what am I doing at this goddamn keyboard?

Back to campus, back in adjunct office, 4:34, and I’m ready as I can be, I think.. syllabi, lecture, notes, Kerouac text.. what videos I’m to show, 2 that I can think of, and that’s it.  Tired, so I had to get another dose of caffeine.  You can laugh, but if I didn’t have this I’d be in the water dead– shit, forgot to get a bottle of water at the book store.  Out again, be right back reader…..  Okay, back, but I have to, or want to, be in the room an hour early, which is 15 minutes.  Tied but I need wake, immediately.  Sip of the mocha and I’m nearly done with it.  How?  Why?  Goddamnit.

(6/15/15)

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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