a writer:  post 012

Downstairs.  Coffee.  Rain.  Quiet.  Moments like this will very much be reduced if not completely taken away, with Ms. Emma landing soon.  But it’s to make me more dedicated and disciplined a writer.

Writing everything–  couch pillow and Jackie blanket on ground, haven’t heard, seen, it rain this hard in too long.

Indecisive, I hate that about myself– just write, as I tell the students.. the rain making all types of audible hooks for me, but I don’t rise to look out the back window, to the patio or back yard where we had the party to learn what gender our second baby’s to be.  time flying fast and I feel it this morning– just did 20 pushups, have to stay in the routine and momentum I re-established yesterday, running those miles, being at the gym– health, Wellness, Life, here for my babies.  This morning I’m more than I a writer but not sure what job title it begs.  36, thinking.. looking around this house and this is all real.  All of it.  No mistakes, no edits, only forward in the practice and speeches, the writing and readings.. note everything…..  remote controls and sparkling water (lemon) atop the toy chest, makeshift ottoman for Ms. Alice to rest her limbs, soles–

My coffee, new mug bought for a student on her birthday trip to Vegas.  Last time, the only time, I was in Vegas was with Mr. Zent, in ’03 I believe.  Not much desire to go back ‘less it’s to speak at some writing or Lit conference, or on wine, or to sell wine in some creative way.

Haven’t had a glass of wine at home in days, and I’m animated with conviction that such abstinence has served the writer, wildly well.  Yesterday’s landing at the gym just before 7 to this morning’s thousand before 7.  Two consecutive mornings of fruitful fruition.

(12/13/15)