So… what does it mean to wonder and ramble? To wander and wax? The wine has washed my memories and my ponderings and now I sit and write.
Cabernet Sauvignon invites my inflections and my intonations to wonderous and strange designs and places. I don’t want to say that it’s now because I’m inebriated and therefore not in command of the creation of my words. Of course, I don’t want to say that. But, here I sit and here I write.
I’m in a class, a course, a lesson where I explore and think about what it means to teach. I am to develop a philosophy of what it means to me. And I can’t be honest. I will need to say that people are important and that their learning experience is important. How do people learn to appreciate a good #scotch? Like, a seriously good #singlemalt? They are explored and experienced by what the person puts into them. I didn’t learn to enjoy a Laphroaig by smelling it and saying it was awful and sipping it a bit and putting it down and ignoring it as an explosive exposition of ethers and aldehydes that overpower and anesthetize. I enjoy words that do the same. And so, I write.
However, I’m going to look back, one day, at these posts and realize that these are the most honest I’ve been. Mostly. But not really. And that’s the best part of my writing. People are shallow and assumptive and demonstrate the worst of what we do and what we think. I’m not alone in how I feel but I’m alone in how I write. But, I sit here with my Cab and I write.
I once wrote about authorial intent. The thing about it is, anyone can reflect and consider and analyze, but it’s only the author that knows. Very interesting. Very.
I’m going to have another glass.
This -place- is so empty. So every creak resonates and groans aloud. This -place- is hollow and empty and musty. It’s my mind and it’s my house. Is it my home? I wonder. I wonder and I write. While I ramble.
Honesty… my frustration with the work and effort I’ve put into my courses is that so many do so much less. So many hang their after course experience on the title. So many do a little and post some thing that says they did so much. They don’t deserve the attention they demand of the title and so they should fail. I try and I read and I write.
Tonight, my time is up and my eyes give up. Tonight the wonder stops, if only for a short stop. Tonight I will sleep and I will dream, alone, again.
And that’s okay. If I were not alone, I would not sit here now and write… Goodnight.