Continents in the day connecting, and faster than I thought they would. Keeping fires not so much lit but driven to consumer my ambitions in and out of the day. Got self a snack, plain Cheerios and lime sparkling water. Sitting at tallboy table and collecting self. Have to keep with tireless steps. Move from this table and back to desk, then to lunch soon where I’ll even more work, on all projects, or as many as I can.
Monday not feeling like a Monday for me, though I rarely have that sensibility. This break, focused on knowing where I am and why I’m doing what I’m doing. And what’s that. Following… steps to my own business. To my vineyard. Sonic this morning has me flying from idea to idea and more than that looking at Mike Madigan as a character, removed but not excessively so.
People passing me, in their day and story. Singularities amalgamating to form something of a superstorm story, for me and this book, or the blog. Writing about work, wine, work again, new projects, letting mind meander and senselessly stride across the idea plain.
Mike says it to himself. Work, write about work. And he does. Whilst working, while in his pattern of flapping wings in and out of the office then to lunch where he won’t at all lunch at all. Today is about work, more than work, more than creative, but altitude, amplification… new words and sentences and forms of seeing things, perception and pulse, perceptive pulse and personification.