And I haven’t touched the novel. I’m just enjoying my morning and the coffee and writing with ink some poetry some thoughts on my mind and I don’t want to stop and I don’t care how much I am or am not supposed to post. Do you tell vines what to do? I guess you do, but they will move as they want, you can’t tell them what to think and you’ll never know what their next move is. This morning is all music, all café, all art, all ZEN– all ME. I’m so in love with life this morning, just as Kerouac ordered, to be in love with yr life. And I am, master! I am!
8:41, and I’ve made progress this morning, this wouldn’t be if little Kerouac were here, but I’d be more motivated if he were here, just not with as many finished pieces already if that makes sense.. probably makes no sense.. I further consolidate just throwing writings in folders and files on this fucking laptop. Building something this morning and what I don’t know but I keep going, I won’t let myself stop, not for me not for the next cup, or what’s scheduled, and to be honest the only thing “scheduled” is this, me at the counter writing and thinking about Summer Semester and the organizing I’m doing– novel, write in the novel!
I can’t right now.
Well do it anyway.