I’m thinking because of my run, I sit here almost too spent to scribble. No wine sips tonight. Just pushed Self to somehow spill 300 words into my latest project effort. Don’t know why I commit Self to projects I can’t afford to publish. And I’m certainly not willing to send sample chapters to slimy publishers who surely will just toss it into a trash can beside their desk, or through a shredder. But, I still have to ask my Self, continuously, “Where do these pages go?” Posing this every sitting, actually. And I don’t come up with a specific response, one straightforward. Most of the time. Is this a problem? I would say yes, but one quite fixable. Just don’t know HOW to fix it. Yet.
Taking the little monster to NWG again, tomorrow. And this time, I will be in that café, typing, pages for a preferred project. There will be vision, expediency in my lunch hour Literary leaps. May write about some thoughts I’ve had for lectures, on everything from Literary Theory, to Epistemology, to Aesthetics, Creative Writing, Orwell, Plath, Hoffer, and I can’t even begin to list how much else. Thinking that blending some of these offerings would catapult my students into indefatigable Idea Exchanges. When I do return to the classRoom, at the university level, I plan to incorporate more student reactionary readings, from their own logs, on smaller excerpts, underscoring continuity of thematic addresses, redresses in a piece; an author’s true voice.
Just thoughts, in my class, yes. But, they have to be substantiated, tested, defended. Notice I didn’t say proven, as how can a reader prove any “truth” when it comes to Literary efforts of another, even with Reader Response? What does this have to do with wine? These ideas, the Literature begetting them, more engaging than any bottle of wine could ever prove. More intoxicating. And surely more meaningful, significant.
9/26/2011, Monday
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