bored with my writing before I even start typing. What this is a symptom of, I don’t know. Guessing the time of day, how slow it is, day before xmas eve. But this remaining shift time will be keeping myself interested in all ways, tints and manners. Should I go for a quick walk again, photograph the low clouds and how their misty claw stretches over the hills west of our property?
Music on, keep self alive with music. Still haven’t finished the coffee in tumbler. And I can make more. I’ll head to New York with my book finished, self-printed and published, ready to speak on whatever. Kerouac.. journaling… reading more actively. I’m losing my mind trying to stay motivated. Finished a project for the winery, one entirely minor and quick to be brought to completion– A picture. Of outside. What the gray does to the terrain… “stay connected,” I tell myself over and over. Go slow, don’t rush. Just finish the hours here at the desk. What I learn from it, and what I hope to. To both: how to keep self interested– no, not just interested, but creatively connected. Finish the goddamn book! Students this semester heard me say over and over that “Only you can write your story.” So, then… actuate what you advocate, Mike.
Rain again, this time in a gentle but thick rhythm and consistency, meant to energize and replenish the vineyard, yes, but to get my attention. Keep raining, keep raining! There’s no excuse for getting bored at work. NONE. Take notes… make a wishlist… do some research….. Where do you want to be?
On the Road, teaching, writing, teaching from my writing, writing about what I teach.. learning from the travels and teaching/sharing ideas from what I learn. Life is too valuable and too active and musical to succumb to boredom. Boredom is injected, by self. Nope… I have a book to finish. That’ll be my gift to self– the book, finished, ready to sell. And me, soon after, ready for travel. What I’m learning from writing that before-sentence, is that this is a new year and it’s glowingly inviting for such to materialize.