inward jot

06:06.. Up but not in the mood to write but I’m forcing myself to.  Made coffee last night, haven’t taken first sip.  Back at LE today, and should probably start getting ready.  Jackie called me into his room this morning and said, “Dady, can we wake up now?” He was, is, ready to go.  No questioning or self-doubt or anxiety…  Ready to dive headfirst into his day.  Okay… I am to.  Running at the gym tonight after kids go to bed.  Tonight I’m doing it and no fucking excuses.

I imagine what my first trip will be like, for business.  For me and my writings, talking about one of my books or … something.  At the age now where when I write like this I get angry, fantasizing instead of already having taken possession.  But… I see me getting up early to run, coming back to room to write a little, then off to work.  Writing in different places and hearing the different sounds of these new places… that’s what I’m after… the Newness of those days and how I walk in new streets—  Sip coffee here on couch next to little Kerouac, recite three small, small poems in my head.  Take a breath, stop pressuring Self… taking my writing and thoughts in a new direction today.  One unclouded and freer than free, no self-doubt and only assurance and understanding that what I want is ridiculously close.

Summer Semester, 12 days away.  Using my 305.1 section as a proxy of sorts, or maybe like a performance barometer.  Something like that.  First couple days, no writing… only reading small poems, or prose excerpts, and reacting.  Having the students find comfortability in their own thoughts and voices…. See?  This is microcosmic effort and action that extends to everything else… and not just wine and wine writing/journalism.

Self-doubt’s a pollutant.  No more.  But, it’s inspired a lion.  A renewed me.

(6/7/17)

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