wounds and tears are characters’ Where.
The location and point of soul, of music, of life, of CHARACTER.
Waiting for haircut
time. No time to waste and no time to wait. All minutes are instructional, all times in your story narrate something to you, teach, they demand your direction and response. Gems compile right in front of you. Eyes should be ever present nets. Catch everything.
Wine is
my partner narrator.
2/27/19
Second to last day of month. See what today delivers. New obstacle thrown in story, may have to cancel meetings and go to field. I’ll see.
4:44. What a day. In such a gloriously luminous, loving and enigmatic way. Everything done. Just finished lunch a bit ago. Took it quite late as a result of consecutive meetings. Not much in writing today, I know. But it couldn’t be helped. I should be explaining it to self or apologizing. Today could be written about, singularly, as a narrative or story or lesson, lecture, something for me. Like a longer note to self.
Today’s taught me to be more versatile, flexible, maneuvering in day-to-day, also to hold self to aims and visions. To embody what the aim truly is in all its facets. I’ll write about it, today, when on campus. Won’t be keeping them long, note. I need more time to write. I mean really write. Finish this goddamn book, Thought. Thought… and what it is what it’s meant for why be in it, why have it be so integral in your functionality as a Human.
thought
The day isn’t after you.
You are after it.
Like a wolf, salivating and enveloped in starvation.
1/16/19
Writing on phone, in nook, new breakroom. Lunch. Though, I work. What I want. Tonight, meeting 2 of semester. English 100. Even after the first meeting I’m taken far into the semester, far past where I feel I am in week one. Already remembering more students’ names so immediately than last semester. I write tonight before it happens. Before there’s a possibility of occurrence. More progress into thought, thoughts, reasoning of where I am, what I’m doing, why my thinking and reasoning does what it does.
A Philosophy class. Stanford or wherever. On thought itself. Reason and reasoning…. examination and study of the Now. There’s a storm of reaction and reflection where now seated. Forgot again about promise to eradicate ‘I’ from writing.
Not eating has me sword-like in deconstruction and reasoning, my current logical layout. Nearby currently, hearing and seeing, wondering why the character is where the character is. What brought the story there, here, to the character.
Wondering if moving is necessary. Someone just poked their head in here, an area really meant for more than a singular character. Really, 4. Or more. Just the one writing here presently.
Hunger not speaking or paining as forecasted. Should spit out gum, have coffee. Suppress appetite as much as possible. No, cut back on caff’. Tonight’s lecture, on the night itself. The magic of meta and what’s already present and for observers and writers crafted. The philosophy of Now very much precipitates from curiosity. Not to be stuck in cognitive circles, but to reach several destinations while perpetuating ceaseless travel.
12:23. Words, for tonight. For when traveling and I’m nearly suffocated by observations, what’s around me. Doesn’t matter what I’m using as tablet. Long as there are words and me and my scene and that I’m reacting to what I see, thoughtfully.
1/14/19
Laptop suddenly working. Don’t get it. Doesn’t matter. It’s getting replaced. First day of new semester. Class starts in 4 min, 1 hour. I’ll be in classroom earlier than that, obviously, if there’s not one of those mindless instructors that is in no way aware of the possibility that another teacher may need the room. Introducing narrative, tonight. The singular idea that will dominate the semester. Narrative…. telling stories. Telling your own story. Knowing your story. Just wrote that last sentence into journal. The Germany journal. What will the students this semester be like. I keep wondering but with so much need to know. It will take a while term to know.
No lunching out, today. Must say I’m pleased with my discipline and poise, for once. Need at least 2k for new laptop. Just updated the OS, here in office. See if this does anything. Doesn’t matter like I said. Quiet in the adjunct cell… good to be back on campus, in Professor Mikey mode. Sharing ideas, knowing students and the student experience better. Put quarters in pocket to go get coffee. Could use a coffee now. Beats always drink coffee, no matter time of day or how it may impact sleep. Who cares. Off to get a cup. Don’t worry, small.
6:15. Back in office. With decaf. Decaf. I ordered decaf. Mainly from being charged and directed in energy enough from today itself, training new hire and now in my element of elements sharing ideas in the classroom.
Everything out on this desk, in this shared office like every other semester on the first day. 17 minutes for computer, in whatever it’s doing. Who knows if it’ll work— WHY DO YOU KEEP THINKING THAT? You’re shedding it anyway, that devil thing you call a writing tool and think a necessity.
Another note in journal, for class— Your decisions in how you read and write, and immediately write from your experiences, or write your story, make loud your thoughts in the present.
thought.
On Now.
Laptop away.
Focus on the Now, YOUR day.
Kerouac has
all interpretation and meditations leaning toward more. More exploration, more scenes, more looking around and acknowledging Now. Nothing behind, all ahead and in front of me asking to be experienced. What am I doing here, accepting any order, any regulatory, any institution. More, on that Road, the music, lights, cars, families traveling in winter or whenever. Sitting on unfamiliar boards, me…