of some other device but then I’m concurrently bothered. A Pinot for night, not sure how I feel ‘bout that, either. This say something about how the wife sees me, a serious writer, one who needs to write for happiness, for his mood to be something that’s for home, for the father and husband character needed here in this Autumn Walk Studio.
Where’s the wine. Over by sink. 10:03. Should get upstairs soon, to wake early. Hear daughter coughing, poor little.. Tonight, not a night for the write, the writing of right, to make right. Can smell the coffee I made for morrow. Need to brew one more cup, then chill it for the writing’s soon’s I wake. Should I set my alarm? Should I write like the notes at work, in 3rd person? Okay… I should. That’s better, much more, much more for the Now—
This semester, Mike knows, knows what it’ll do. Mike tells Self that there’s something he needs to do with this semester that he hasn’t with the others, so many of the others. The time need be nullified, not emphasized. I don’t want to use the word ‘evergreen’ like so many in any or whatever business or industry do, but time doesn’t matter. Today is not today, I’m inclined to write in stray, and just plainly say.
Starting to feel tired, but don’t have much interest in bed, or sleep, or rest, or even a pause. When does the wife have to give back this laptop. What if this is the device I write it on. The book, the book I finish… the book, the book, the fucking book do you get it—
There’s something. I like the key and their song, sound, song and sound and steps, me stepping with finger form and syllables, searching with some sort of sense, with a new laptop. Tempted to drink coffee now, but I can’t.
I work.
I’m responsible.
And responsible people see themselves in responsible affirmative.
1/20/19
Don’t know the date of the above entry. Was it…. Wednesday? Doesn’t matter. The writer here now at a Starbucks no surprise, this time on Mendocino Avenue. Was going to write at the Hopper spot but I’ve already been there today and felt odd soon as I left the car’s cabin. So I drove to Aroma Roasters and there was no parking. So, here. A writer’s here with people walking in, only spot I could find, one of the tables with a handicapped emblem in the corner by my right elbow, now.
Small coffee ordered, little cinnamon drizzle in its composition, I placed. Already had enough caffeine from 4-shot latte earlier, before taking both babies to the Pump It Up building, an amazing locale for kids to jump around in jumpy houses and other inflated edifices, throw dodgeball-like balls and other soft spheres at each other while jumping, go down slides that are do sped and steep that even adults could be unnerved. After yesterday’s 6.3 run and this morning’s following their every step and climbing everything there was to climb, following little Ms. Austen everywhere she went, I’m very much in need of this caffeine. Sip… then what to do with day. Bookstore. Need the other texts for the semester, start reading, read ahead of students and alongside them. Starting with Sedaris, his essays. Memoir, narrative. This term, with this new geography of students the entire thesis is story, and self, and telling one’s story for sakes of education yes but as well to see, see something in the telling of You.
Was up this morning not as early as I wanted, shock I know, but early enough to get a fair dimension on the day, ahead of it slightly, and be with babies, study their moments and what they wanted to do, always want to do as I was reminded at the play spot which is play. We need to, as “grown ups” (which is a term very much a candidate for fierce debate) need do more. Just play. No destination or objective targeted. Just be not only in the moment but be the moment itself.
Having a bit of trouble typing on this wife laptop, the one from her school. Know I need my own set of keys but the expense itself frightens me. Need use business sense, more of it as a writer. All cash for laptop put in that envelop. Right now, not anywhere near what I need for new table. Like Dad once advised me in one of our many discussions, “Pay cash for it.” Noted. So now, I just use this. And, how much a golden slice of happenstance this is, wife telling me, “It’s pretty much yours.” So I need to get used to where these keys are place, arranged, how the board is situated. Only edit at end, don’t backtrack and try to amend and recompose what’s underlined in red.
Next two days off. No run today or tonight as wife and I might very possibly have dinner in Healdsburg. The philosophies and ideologies circling and self-manifesting and manipulating in my thinking Road, thought highway, presently, extend from age, aging, getting older and watching what my babies do. Emma climbing a wall with little protruding squares where a child can place their feet and latches of some fabric offering a place for grip, like climbing a rock, training for youngers. I followed her, she telling me to back off, give her space, “I can do this.” She told me. And she did. It was that simple, life is, she taught me. Announce your commitment and ability, and prove it. Show, don’t tell. The little Beats assert the easy nature of everything. There is no difficultly. Difficulty and or any ardent ingredient is fancied, is something to which you subscribe. You tell yourself something will be of some tier of hardship and you buy into it. Isn’t that true? Yes, it may demand work, hard work, or even loads of hard work and effort, exertions and creative pursuit, but so what. Anything worth acquiring should. In narrating a story, your story, you record and relay the motion, the emotion and what you learn from steps and the discoveries entailed.
Not sure how much longer I’ll be at this spot. I do what to go investigate laptop prices. I will have to get one, maybe not immediately, but soon. I want one. One that helps me with my sessions, and yes I know I shouldn’t be tech dependent, and I’m not for the most part. But my heart knows what it wants, or it thinks it does, stemming from a certain because… Reasons and reasoning in everything that’s observed, accomplished.
Slowing down in the coffee sips. Caffeine all too present in the writer’s wheels and engine, general and integral functioning. 11:23, more people come in and I notice more underlined in red. Laptops have harmed my ability to write, my acuity and prowess in composing. Kerouac didn’t use a laptop of course and he didn’t, I don’t believe use a thesaurus when penning or touching those typewriter letters. 11:27, thinking of the marathon. February 9th. Am I ready, don’t know. Hope so. And if I’m not good I’ll learn from it or the marathon itself will get me in proper condition and conditioning for the marathon itself, right then and there.
2019 has me much more without fear and anxiety or reservation, hesitation in saying or writing something, than before years. Must be the turning 40 thing. I’m going to be 40 so I’m much of the ‘fuck it’ mind. That’s my narration, what I’m this year narrating, very much. From 1/1/19 to 12/31, and then past that. I know how I want to be read—a writer writing and reading and studying past masters and learning from them, always in the learners pose and practice more so than some proclaimed or self-anointed master or “doctor of philosophy”.
Man waiting for his coffee, standing far too close to me. Could be the story itself telling me it’s time to switch locations. How I wish for my own office…. Over and over day after day, then again over and over.