I’ve reasoned a thorough cleaning of everything in the writer’s life, from the desk’s top, to my teaching, to my prose-form, to where and how I store my pens.  Everything.  Cluttered life is cluttered mind.  Something I used to tell or share with students.  Yet another preaching I rarely if ever practiced.

Spoke with another adjunct today about Bob Coleman.  She too studied under him.  I thought of him, his passion, presence.  That’s where I need to be— traveling overseas for research, collection of data, documents.  An academic, yes, but more so directly a serious, devoted thinker.

Like Bob.