The semester starts today, but I don’t teach till tomorrow. 7:30AM. They won’t know what hit them, these English 5 students. And with all positive intents.. my enthusiasm, elevated. My ownership of my pages and position as a professor, ascended and more emphatic…
This is the semester that sends me to the Road. I’m sure of it.
All these other professors and teachers and whomever is a writer, but not like me. This is where I show them and the world and light their world in a resplendently grandiloquent blaze.
Cup 2 for me this A.M., and I’m prepared for the next 18 weeks. Finishing my new book by
Week 9’s end. And send the bloody thing out. I’ll be blending that memoir I wrote in ’14/’15 with the novel I wrote in 11-2015, and some other works.. this memoir is meant to be a rejection of my own limiting patterns.. writing something and letting it sit in this laptop or the blog, when I should be selling every goddamn thing I write and type.
So no more. By the end of term, I’ll be on a flight, somewhere to speak.