Ce matin …

Went over to the coffee machine to make first cup and saw an espresso pod atop its respective machine.  Forgot that I fund one last pod last night and put it there so I’d see.  First double espresso here in home in some time.  One of my errands today, go get more.  And other to-do’s associated with shift.

No pain from yesterday’s run.  One again today for sure.  One training plan I was looking at called for a slow 9 mile run.  Shamefully, still out of my range.  May do speed work again or just run around here, the old route I used to do around the vineyard at the end of Coffey Lane.  Either way, I’m running.  No miles tomorrow with the day at Caddis.  Would love to leave early and run from where I park on second street.  Maybe.

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Thinking of Kerouac, and his pages, the first time I read Road.  How I felt, what Iw anted to do in reaction other than write….  But couldn’t because of certain realities, blockades.  Those are now removed.  What do I do…. Oregon, soon.  Running.  Trying to play golf which I’ve always wanted to do but, again, blocked.  And I think the block was mostly me, my response to a block rather than just doing it.

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Bottledaux, taking its shape, everyday, and differently.  Getting into this page in a different way…. My story, Mike Madigan, a deconstruction—  NO, smelting else.  And not an analysis.  THE ENDLESS INWARD JOT.  Yes! All of this is a note to Mike Madigan, and I use that tense as it’s supposed to be removed.  I’m the author and page-turner.  Hmmmm…..  Something to offer in the Fall to students.  Composition, right?  Do you know your composition, your story?  Started word doc for classes.  Still upset the term won’t be in-person.  But nothing I can do.  And with this delta whatever form of covid and it being al over the news and everyone scared again and death tolls being shown on the news like it’s a scoreboard, no chance of being in an actual room.  Have to get more than just “creative” on my end.

Said in the post of the espresso that it’s the “Writer’s fire”.  Didn’t Poe write something on the “poet’s fire?”

Just getting back from finishing a poem I started on the 17th.  Dated it today.  I seek to be more a poet than a “writer”.  Reinstating my self-instruction of a poem a day, any length, for the rest of my life.  Of course, I may miss a day and that doesn’t mean the project has gone to shit, but I’m writing verse until I’m gone.  NOTE THAT.