Been a morning for the writing father. Feel scattered, worn, disheveled and in a terrible creative drought. At Hopper, last night the laptop not opening but this morning it did, and thank the Craft that it did as I was about to lose my composure and character composition altogether. Have 59 minutes till I have to leave, get a bit of gas and head to Geyserville. In this sentence desert where I have nothing to say but the obvious and expected for me, I look at the pages I stapled together yesterday. Title for chapbook series, “Rune Rove”… Then I write “Wine is an invitation and invocation”. Then, “Freedom is not a phase.” Something obviously meant for the students this coming semester… so I open the teaching blog (which I thought I would have killed by now, and post it… On the second page I scribbled “Rain isn’t allowed to inject boredom. Only boldness.” I remember writing that the day before yesterday when I was altogether bored in the tasting room, just watching the rain fall and thinking about how much I COULD be getting done had I not been at work. And now I realize, “Get shit done at work.” And I did, but I could have done more. Yesterday I wrote quite a bit in my little notebook I bought at work. Idea for an independent class, some poetry, other thoughts… I kept moving, no matter what my mood was— And I wasn’t in a mood, but I kept thinking, “What if I were at home or in my office… what I could be getting done…” Don’t wish, just do. That’s what I’m taking away from the last couple days, and today. And this morning, where the writing father is being approached by kids, wife, the day itself… not enough time, even though I woke rather early and was in bed last night before 10, which is a rarity for me.
Taking back the morning. Huh, ‘taking back’… It never went anywhere. It was always mine. And on the drive to work I’ll record some thoughts into the mic function of my phone, anything that comes to mind, about putting everything on the blog, to photography… to shooting more videos like I did in the vineyard yesterday on West Dry Creek Road. Part of today’s business plan involves a walk in the vineyard, contributing more to the “#life #happiness #bottledaux’ project I just started to upload with that very video.
Not too many people around me in Starbucks this morning. One on her phone, the other in the opposite corner on her laptop, and man eating a banana, coffee at his side, waiting for I think another drink. The morning’s transformed, re-blended… ‘Nother note from yesterday’s makeshift notebook— “Freedom— Sovereignty, Liberation […] from/for what? From ALL. For Autonomy”. OUR Autonomy. Perfect for the semester’s dominant idea and search, Freedom. In the texts, for ourselves, getting what we want from life and from our studies and not being corralled. Looking at the clock and I realize I’m being corralled, pushed to move quicker from the time, 8:53. Will have to start packing at 9:15… prep mic for ride, write all day in little notebook. At lunch, use phone for visuals and writing. Laptop only for this sitting, this placement at this table in the corner of sbux where I fight off the morning. No morning is not yours, readers. All of them are. The day, even more so. Tonight, going to fully ready for next morning. Always say I will, but I will. I have to. Again, thanking the Craft.