inward jot

img_7107First literary lunch in office new.  One finger tip a bit numb from colder than normal training room.  Or computer room.  Having last of what’s left from dinner, night prior.  Club sandwich which I usually don’t order when there.  But… class tonight.  What will I teach?  “Teach”.  Thinking more on Road, and singular addressed.  My story compiles and composes itself with more complexity, with the tech company.  Telecommunication…. Difficult writing in here, just have to find my rhythm.  Have just under an hour to collect on page where in the wine world I had far less.  Far, less.  Only 30 minutes.  How bloody ridiculous is that?  I think if I miss the industry, the tasting room.  And I’ve concluded with loud, nearly roaring certainty that I don’t.

Some guys far to my right play video games, talk about whatever project they’re working on.  Definite culture shift away from the wine world.  Had to happen.  Needed, especially with me not learning a single new thing with the last company.  But no more of that.  I’m here.  Tech world, startup surroundings, more life.  More words.  More me…. I’ve discovered who I am, I think. Finally.  At this age.  Just before 40.  But never mind that.  Mom and Dad tell me that I need to stop fixating on or even mentioning my age.  And I think they’re right.  In fact I know they are.  I’m the only one writing in this room, this rather large room with a snack shop, video games, several tables, a fridge and a pingpong table aside from much else.  The activity encourages me… people walking by talking about projects and what they’re going to do over the long weekend.  What they want to do after work, and what they have in mind for their current projects.  Nothing like this was int he wine industry, and not just from the short “lunches” they ‘let” us have.  There’s more color here.  And the fact that there is no wine is a boon.  No distracts, no slowing.  All the free coffee here a writer can possibly take for his prose.  Should finish this sandwich so I can hit another cup.  There are two speed to choose, consider… medium roast, then dark.  I’m in a dark mood, coffee-wise, while my characters tone and emotional shape is bright and effusive, elevated.  I can only be so, in this tech stage, sphere and sentence stream.  I’m here, I’m new, renewed… listening to people and how they speak of their projects and it’s with far more interest and connectedness than anything in the tasting room, certainly, and to a degree anything I heard or overheard in production.  What took so long?  I won’t lie, as ridiculous as it is to pester self with such inner yells and deconstructive yodels, I still do. I can’t help it.  I feel more home here, really.  There’s more of my momentum and my steps, my speak and creative seek, here.

Finishing my sandwich, and only wanting to capture more of what’s on either side of my typing tips.