Need to plan a bit more for classes. This semester will be it. Then graduation. This is not my usual wishlisting or some thrummy proclamation. This is a stark punctuation of a plan. Semester’s end will see me on the Road. By halfway in term, I’ll be moving about with these blogs, maddenedread and bottledaux. This is not what I wish for, really, it’s what I have to do. And, I have the personal hankering of travel and writing about the various blocks and towns, cities and scapes. Keep writing, keep writing… When that timer is up, it’s a rush back home to get ready for school then to campus. Need a word of the day (think I have one), then a quote. The day, today, has to be more elevated than yesterday. Haven’t been that sick in who knows how long, barely able to keep eyes open at desk, breathe, or do anything. Surprised I entered the wine club info I did, with my decrepit sluggish mobility. People around me here at the Hopper sbux, some I’m guessing with a day off and others just doing whatever. Think the guy next to me is an investor or something, looking at his phone then his laptop, then phone again, typing something. Just a guess, but that’s an interesting story, the investor who’s afraid to leave a certain coffee spot as it’s been the geography of so many rewarding transfers and buy-ins.
Do I ever get bored? Sometimes, but not often. Just something I was thinking about driving here, keeping the Self stimulated. Challenge to itself. Travel would affirmatively bring a blizzard of stimuli to my I and page-fly. It’d have to. The airports to the car ride to the hotel, the hotel room, what I’d do after settling. All.
What else could I do for the lessons today? Poetry… Essay… Statements. Hoping the department changed my room. Not sure why every other semester or so they’ll stick me in that computer lab in 1628. Well, I know why… I’m an adjunct. It’s thought I can be pushed around, that WE can be put where-the-fuck-ever. Well, I can’t. I won’t. I’ve raised this issue before about 1628, but somehow we have to keep going through the same damn cartwheels. Never gets old. Well, till now. I went to the department admin, and she was quick to switch… Just checked my “portal”, I was moved. 1691. Never taught in that room before. Not sure it matters, but if I want a quick dose of Newness, there I go. Listening to my music letting my mind go wherever it wants. But it doesn’t know where it wants to go. It has no idea. I don’t. Where do I want it to go? Can you force yourself to think something, write something, or do you have to wait for it. You can be open to inspiration or a certain compositional propulsion, but what it you’re just left? Waiting. What then.