…and I’m just writing till I stumble upon some idea. Writing now becomes difficult for me, stressful and something I don’t look forward to doing as I used to. Why? Getting old? Financial stresses? Either way I end it, or try to, tell myself I’m going o by writing. Coffee, no mocha. Watching all expenses, every single penny that leaves me. Today is my first day, like my son’s, wife’s at her school with her new class. I’m starting everything over, today. Writing, my wine life which I will tremendously diminish and de-emphasize. Opened a bottle last night from friend’s winery, a Dolcetto and was not in any way moved or inspired to write about the wine as I used to. So I re-focus on my first day of the new semester, five days from now… writing lecture ideas, and vowing to self that by Dec. ’18, the term’s last day, that everything will be elevated. That all stresses will be gone, financial or otherwise, and that I’ll see self more clearly.
Started syllabi, finally. Planning on every meeting, every “lecture” if you want to call it that, to be a reading from me, a performance somewhat.