Family on way home, me now sipping a sparkling water. Think I’m done prospecting for the day. Just waiting for night, when it cools down. 102, I was just told outside. ONE HUNDRED DEGREES. Oh, and why not add two more degree, like cherries on a sunday. Oooooo, that sounds good. No, disciplined with diet today. Two pieces of veggie pizza for lunch and that’s it till dinner. If I’m even hungry for dinner. This fucking heat murders the appetite. And not just for food. I’m forcing these sentences, staying in this chair. Quarantine, covid, fires…. I have to write it all. Not worried about another 2017 coming through this neighborhood, not worried about anything really. Other than if I’m capturing this, all this, as best I can.
Notepad ready for class. Posts up for each 1A section. So now I just wait, and jot thoughts that come to me for the class. I have class tonight. I’m teaching. Didn’t expect that, honestly. Ask Mike Madigan back in April or May, even at the beginning of the semester if he’s teaching in fall and he tells you NO. Not mad, not pugilistic, just convinced. Well here he is, scribbling, going over in his head if all the syllabus is correct. He knows it is, they are. Well, “they”.. same syllabus for two sections.
Can’t deal with this heat, this confinement. And I don’t have to. Write it. This semester is what will deliver me to everything. Well before the 365 is up. Weather, what do I want at my second home… water, ocean, sand, some café that serves wine. I need wine. Sauv Blanc. No white wine in this house. FUCK.