10-3-24

12:50.  Still in office.  Meeting this morning then some sales calls, then another meeting, now another.  Working offsite in a bit while at lunch.  Think I’m going to the taco spot on Old Redwood Hwy, the one I went to a bit ago with the amazing salsa and chips.

Writing my way to IT— the IT.  Literary today, putting self back in classroom and not letting SELF escape.  9 minutes till meeting and need to post something.  Planning tomorrow, early wake, writing.  Nurse not with me, sadly.  Keep busy.  Stay in literary mode, from Hughes to Poe, Plath, whatever else my journals tell me.

Two calls going on around me, one to right and left, right is more constant.  Student papers and readings in class, it won’t leave me alone.  Driving to campus, trying to find a spot.  Then speed-walking to room in Emeritus Hall, students watch me walk in, they say hi or something about the reading from night prior.

The magic to it all is LIFE.  Being there, not striving after some number, but reading.  Life… passion, sprinting toward what calls you.

I’m not budging from this idea, the notebooks, the vineyard and the people that are at the table, or tasting bar.  Walking the vineyard with me.

PASSION.  Why do I ever fucking compromise?  Seriously frustrated with myself today, and since coming back from Vegas.  Not in any depressive or effacing way, just a bit of criticism and observation.  My Composition is changing in a way that is irreversible.

Messaging Nurse, telling her what I’m doing….  Love to update her, makes me feel likes she’s with me.  And in a way she always is, but this intensifies such a sense.

12:56….  Writing in poetry rolls and small scrolls—

Images multiple voices

Alone and never not, but so loved

Her smile and Road, full and telling