10/25/19

Reaching out to existing Sonic clients to renew services.  Yesterday in my old neighborhood reminding me of time and how it keeps with its keep, its indifferent movement.  Not going to make any promissory notes or declarations, affirmations in this entry, although I think that’s one right there.

Quarterly celebration today, where we have lunch together as a company, with provisions from delicatessen and impressively artisanal food trucks.  And beer, can’t forget that, though I’m trying to completely extricate self from beer.  Making me feel full and unhealthy, slow and divided in focus whereas wine has me sharp, quick, more poetic.  Anyway, get as much done as I can before the start of events starts.

Singularity, something I stress to student but more myself need enact and actuate, perpetuate and effectuate.  Emails to send, one to a professor I met surprisingly at yesterday’s business event.  We had a brief but very enlivened and elevating discussion, about students and resources and I can’t remember whatever else but there was the conversation and the collective and pervasive octave and tenor which healthily and wholly added to my story.

Then visiting my high school, introducing myself as a Sonic voice and telling them about the company and why I’m devoutly enchanted in its chime and climb….  Forget about the changes which I could note over and over, but time…. again fucking time, passing me.  Me thinking while Bob walked me around campus that I WILL send Emma and Jack somewhere like that. No, better.  Amplify everything.  And no more thinking.  Just go.  GO… and the autopilot aim of this 100-day MS, done.  Book title written in head while lecturing one night this week (canceled class last night as I wanted a night with family, babies especially), ‘Cuz F this S’, suggesting we don’t have time to think and obsess, polish and perfect.  Just move, sing, write, create.  Life is more than short.  Cruelly curt, like I offer to students.  Centering on my Now, here, at this desk in the Sonic office—no, shop.  This is a shop, a buffet of plausible, immediate gems, education… LIFE.  All other jobs I’ve had, including ALL full-time stints in wine’s spur-galled industry, didn’t have this.  This activity in this office, this shop, this creative colony and expanse of endearing antagonization.

Nearly time for a break.  Where I’ll note more notes.  Where…. Where am I going with this thought.  Doesn’t matter.  It’s thought. Think I just got a subtle sensory of the smoke outside form the Geyserville fire.  Just asked one of the trainers, “Yeah, it’s bad.” She said.  So I’m not batty.  Good.  May go outside, get shot of that blood sun, somehow tie it into these emails I’m sending.

OH…. That reminds me……..