Day where I feel like I did a lot and nothing at the same time.  I’m seeing my business model take shape but I want to hurry it.  Obvious impatience from an obviously and ever-impatient writer.  Gathering thoughts.  Seeing shapes of business.  I know I’m overthinking this new position, I know I am.  Plan on having a glass of something on the way home, taking notes on my everything, everything in this new story. This new job is not at all a job, not at all anything regular or predictable.

All molds and pattern need be cut from my ways.  Starting now and going forward, noted.  Taking more notes and seeing …. Rather than say it, enact and embody it.  Sonic.. this company.  Make it more MINE.  Through building new sights and…. Written that before.  Just keep going, the Road, the music of this office and everything the company involves ideologically.  Like wine, and how people look at it with this amazement and bewildered brow.

Eventually I’ll be working from home, I’m told.  Early as less than, possibly, six month from now.  In that time I’m elevating creative, and everything.  Why am I going in circles with this thing… this job.  Hear HST’s words in my ears and skin, and this is where that dream is.  Not so much American, but human, what everyone wants, the most essential and monosyllabic of prints—life, health.  Smile.  I can only with this new opportunity, opportunities, special ops (operations, missions)…. Writer at a tech company.  Am I becoming a techie, or am I a wine writing internet tech mess. Maybe all and none.  So I wheel away in new ways, with new ways.

4:38.  Day essentially over.  No more calls to make, really.  And I’m seeing that calls are not where I need place effort.  On the phone isn’t interaction, not the immediate and believable one I perpetuate, or try to.