Week 17, FINALLY.
Have to wish Dad happiest of happy happy birthdays. Don’t let me forget that! Clocking in at 9:20, twenty whole valuable never-getting-again minutes later than I’d hoped, here in the SRJC adjunct hole. Starting new routine– waking early, working out and writing then going about the day– and each day, 3PAGES.. for the rest of my life. All these blogging and startup and wine ambitions aside but then brought back in, I’m a writer–
Eating cinnamon-raison bagel, about the sip from the large coffee I ordered in the library cafe, marvelously mercurial this morning. Have certain pieces I want done, and I was thinking last night: what do the three poems I wrote early yesterday morning have to do with wine? Well, nothing. They were about the moment, me on that couch unable to go back to bed after gnarly dreams and everything else on my mind approaching the end of term. So I’m here in the adjunct box, ready to propel my tenuousness into something terrific..