Wasn’t going to plan out the day, but I will. Have to be somewhere in Windsor at 10, so I’ll start getting ready at 8:30. Which gives me some freewriting and thinking time, meditation here at the desk. Already on second cup, time 7:14. Early start for all of us this morning and earlier than usual departure for the babies. Money stressing me. And the solution easy, right? Just make more of it. Write more and sell and yeah it’s so fucking easy.
Wrote earlier about my mood. Couldn’t really land on a word. And now, it’s just ‘agitated’. Difficult to get ahead financially— but there I go grieving, and that will help nothing, no one. So back to my timeline: Get ready earlier— Just learned Spring ’16 Grades aren’t due till Friday! Now my mood elevates, but still, need some income additional. Going to print 5 pages of prose, TO SELL. So that’s income… more poetry… music… readings… sell writings at the readings— will have to do those after days at Dutcher Crossing. Keep moving, not stopping for a thing single, my ambitions and anxieties commingled—
In a mode of poetry, and just freely writing more freely than I ever have, regardless of genre and specificity, however the bookstore or music people want to market me.
The agitation has morphed into ascension, assurance. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. More coffee? Use the gift cards the fam’ me gifted? That means I’d have to get up, rise from the desk. Can’t afford the time, the time it’d take to get in the car, drive to Hopper, order, wait, wait ….. More waiting. No. I’ll stay here.
More igniting, delighting, idea inviting— promised plighting, write over espresso then often miking— Stopping self, not an option,
I’ve fought too often, now just meditation, abetted stress alleviation—