from a journal

Yulupa Starbucks. And I just learn from first types it’s one of those bloody tables that moves and rocks, jolts and jitters when you type. I type through it. Picked up dry cleaning from shop next door. Haircut, then something for me. For me. Imagine that. Something in Healdsburg, maybe. Or a run, though that doesn’t sound as alluring as it usually does, having time to run. Took both babies to school this morning, Jackie forgetting his backpack on the table then me taking Steele exit not getting mad but telling him we can’t let the happen that it’s his responsibility. He said he knew and the topic was gone. Him off, first. Then taking little Emma to her learning house just down Yulupa, singing to her the whole way down and her with her compromising laugh, tempting me to keep her home all to myself. To just cuddle, read stories and watch movies. She’s 3, now. Well on her way to teen years, where I won’t be as quick, and possibly not as funny in her eyes, and….

Why do we sometimes stress more on days off that day laboring. Looking up, woman walks in with a tumbler to be filled. Nearly forgot I have coffee. My latte, my new preferred order, 4 shots then I sprinkle some cinnamon atop the whip. Not sure it affects the types at all, but I can smell it, it wakes me, makes me think of vacation, in Sunriver or Montanan which I’ve never been, somewhere with snow. I want to be in the snow. Right now Mom and Dad at the Sunriver house and me just wishing, wishing…. Maybe will go out with camera, today. Take some shots of dormant vineyards, damp soil after the rain. Not really in a mood to taste at all. Just look, see wine country, everything about it. The people and…. Again I think of wife’s sister and her advice to singularize in wine, with my writing. To start a blog. Fuck, 10 years ago she told me. TEN. Today, a day of battle. One of forwarding and advancing into my pages to a point where I’m traveling, seeing wine in other states, states you wouldn’t expect.

I try to sip my latte and barely anything greets me. Get a little step of hear under lower lip, but that’s about it. I urge my students to be a fan of their own work but now I struggle getting through my sentences. I reinvent, today. When home, putting this backpack away. Forgetting about it. Never taking laptop into field, ever — Wait, really? Are you sure you want to do that? HST took his typewriter into the field, or with him when out. I remember a pic of him in the backseat of a car, typing. Another sip from latte. Heat again, but more substance, more caffeine. Now I’m awake. Now I feel like a writer. Really. I’m convinced, or I’ve sold self.

08:48. This cup is strong. I should pace myself but I don’t agree with my current pace, so I re-situate in caffeine entirely.