and remember that I woke before 4am and was wide awake. Why I didn’t write is something that irks me, but here I am with coffee after buying the breakfast for everyone at our Saturday tradition spot in Windsor. Skillets, I think it’s called.
Jack sips his orange juice and tells me he’s getting his charger in the other room. Informs me of everything he’s doing, while Emma sings along with whatever she’s watching. I sip the coffee I just made but it does nothing. Excited about the next week, this week only hours away in my perception—
Quick trip upstairs to change Henry then he spits up, new clothes, spits up again and now quiet. Can’t stop thinking about how tired I am, and how this coffee isn’t doing shit.
Forgot I wrote a poem earlier. 14 lines, most of them short. The cooking analogy pushed by what the kids were watching. So many poems in this laptop saved, thanks to Dad for more than adequately transferring everything. Gather them, I think. Can’t now, as an interruption is just a child’s call away, and I’m far too drained. Maybe that’s when I should do it… write when you’re uncomfortable… hmmm.
Shot first video for online workshopping. Not sure if it’ll leave ground, if anyone’ll watch, but it’s potentially a strong circuit to get out of adjunct days at the JC.
Started doc on laptop for the #professormikey business plan and company. I say a video a day. Short ones between the longer more official meetings. Don’t have time for a brainstorming phases. Just action, movement, production and perpetuation of more pages.
I start to wake, become more enlivened, elevated. Emma says something else in song to what she’s learning. Posted to my site this morning that one should write about their kids…. If I’m to begin this instructional or teaching, writing education project I WILL follow my own forward, my own lessons and lectures.