Day 23, 7/2/17, Sunday:  Was up before Jackie, but not by much.  He came downstairs to find me in front of the coffee machine as it warmed up, making all those airy/gas-toned, water gurgle sounds.  One week from project’s end.  Am I closer to freedom?  Honestly, can’t tell.  I’m just going on with what I have— teaching and wine story and writing…. But I need my book done.  More poetry—  No more promises, no more lists of them in these entries.  Jack on couch while I type, “Daddy I love…” he says before another bite of his waffle.  I cough… may be coming down with something, but I honestly can’t tell.  Going to say no as I can’t afford to get sick.  Not even for a little bit.  Can’t afford days off, and not just from a money angle…. I have to keep my bull-like charge through life in its perpetuation.  Invariably.  No variables.  Write poems every day and gather them, react to them, be seen as a writer and nothing else.  I know I know, I’m doing the promise-list thing again.  Well, I’m still waking up.

Allergies attack, I itch left eye and realize how tired I still am.  Today, do something completely out of character, something that forever changes the story, FOREVER.  What…. Take, I don’t know, like 20 pictures worthy of show.  Go out to vineyard before day starts, and shoot.  The most ignorable objects and scenes can be made to something of-record.  Today I make myself more a photog’ than a writer.  Why not.  Why not try.  Why not do and be and TRY something different.  Photog… and when in tasting room and can’t have my camera out I’ll sneak shots with phone.  THAT, is poetry.  Using the moment for more than the moment.  In fact, not “using” it at all but exposing its importance.

Interesting…. But useful.  Going to make son, daughter, and everyone proud of me.  They will be first witness to what extraordinary steps I today take.