Just finished shaving for following day, and I feel, I don’t know, off for some reason. Like there’s something I should be doing but can’t remember what it is, and if it’s so important why can’t I remember that, so I continue in stress as to why I can’t remember. I begin my re-read of ‘Moveable Feast’, but can’t find my copy. Where’d I put it? Walked around the office a bit looking for it but can’t find it and I’m too tired from the Fountaingrove run to pursue any search, “So fuck it.” I say to myself.
Sipping some Cabernet tonight, why not I think to myself as I don’t have to teach after the winery tomorrow, thank god. Hit all corners today, I think— running, writing, fathering, adjuncting. Well not quite the latter of latters but in my own way “taught”, or taught myself something about myself that I can do whatever I want, and that music need have a more roaring punctuatedness in my peregrination.
“Truthfully, when are you going to be honest with yourself?” I ask myself.
“About what?” I ask myself.
“About what you want to do. When are you just going to fucking leap, and do something with your writing, and I mean really put yourself out there? That’s the only way you’re going to be fucking noticed, you know…”
“Yeah, but, I don’t know. I’m waiting.”
“Waiting. For what.” The voice keeps with its virulent pester and interrogation but I don’t budge. It seems to forget I have two kids, a wife. I’m the dad, the household head. So I can’t just act, do some crazy craziness, can I? Maybe I can, just keep it all on page. And no negativity, I know. Be crazy in my positivity, nearly confrontational with it. Okay.. fine….. So tomorrow then will be the single best dat of my life. Even better than my babies birth days. How is THAT possible? I don’t know, but tomorrow I learn.
After shaving I looked in the mirror, I know that trite contemplative moment, and usually when this happens I notice that I’m getting old. But tonight I saw that I’m still quite young, and that I have so much to get done, I just need to chance a few things like when I get up, when I write, how I write, and what I write about to a degree. Not depend on others’ reactions just keep with my narrative howitzer, blasting the blank page surface with honesty. THAT, will get me to travel, seeing the world and lecturing on narrative and self-consideration and understanding through writing. Have the ‘Writing in the Vineyard’ class approaching, and one of the first prompts I plan on putting before my “students”, or “colleagues” as I’ll refer to them as I do current matriculants, is just writing as crazily and carelessly, FREELY, as one’s able. The only way to discover anything about your creative self is to be wild, free, lawless and with varying scopes.
Cabernet in the kitchen. To make coffee for morning, and have glass final. Je vais…