Well, I am, but not letting it stomped in my senses. So what am I thinking about then…. How to get out running again, with consistency as I used to. How to get to my own office. How to stop the bland repetition and inset and sinew of these pandemic days.
1 Not posting anything to social media. Only this blog.
2 Go for a run toward EOD, eat after kids are down or right before
3 MORE POETRY. No matter how short and rushed. In fact those are the most poetic and free expressive and connective of standalone sets.
4 3000 words on day. In total. Written in this document and then allotted as needed.
5 Write in Dad’s 1948 journal.
Notes to self to start day. This laptop is where the startup starts. Sip coffee I made last night. Insurance cards on desk, why. They should be in car. There are mornings I hate this desk then others when I’m grateful for it and moved to motion and manuscript. This morning is a bit of both. Keep writing, even when you can’t write. Isn’t that what I tell my “students”. Putin quotes as I miss them and if anything they teach me more about writing and myself than any morning entry like this.
A thank-you letter written to me recently from a student in my Fall 1B 2019 section. He thanked me for my teaching style and how I created community.. you know what, I should probably study that letter a bit, it might have answers, show me how to sell better and finally get on the fucking board this month. I keep asking myself what I’m doing wrong, and I think one approach of benefit and heal might be to be more me and less a purveyor of internet and phone.
I write that and say ‘yeah not shit’ to myself. Will ready Trey’s letter after these incepting paragraphs, and read it slowly and see where I connected with him and provoked a letter all these months later.
This desk…. No, don’t see it. See your office. And more I think about an office and room of my own I see it in downtown Sonoma, not Healdsburg. Why…. HBG can be a little loud. Well wait… no, stay in Sonoma. Just the right amount of noise and traffic, tasting rooms and lunch spots, cafês, writing spots and what be.
8:08AM Writing a song in head. Need more music— You know I write these things down or type them in the morning as I’m now doing but don’t revisit. I don’t re-read or ever really read Mike Madigan’s work. I’m not an Account Executive for Mike Madigan.
Now my thoughts start to assemble and form a legion targeting me in a way. I welcome their assault. Deserve it frankly.
MAKE BOTTLEDAUX TAKE OFF…. Know its business type and intention… Knowing Now…. FREED. As it says in the title bar or header or whatever it’s called.
Sip coffee again. Love this, how my skin rattles and how my character forms a more fiery and meant lean into page. My poetry spills like baptismal trickle. And I’m freeing self. We should all know we can do precisely this. For business, for relationships, for our kids… for anything.
When speaking to a class I do and don’t work from notes. I don’t want to have a disconnected and disingenuous conversation. Now I remember certain points in the semester, in last semester with the two 1B sections, the Wednesday class with that one student Samone whose writing made me more a writer, more a truster of my own talk. So here I am this morning finally putting into frame and decision what I acquired.
Kids’ll be up soon. I’m actually surprised they’re not up now really. 8:14— Well, they were up pretty late and when time for bed I didn’t help with my silliness and my joking jabs to get them laughing, making mad Melissa and I don’t blame her. But it’s so funnnnnn…… hahahahahahah
8:15am. If this were a work day, I’d be prepping for calls. Running out of calls to make, in a way. Going through all my leads and stacks of business cards I’ve acquired since joining the Enterprise sales group. But saying that and especially writing it makes it true. You’re not out of leads.. you have plenty of places to call, and plenty of places to physically canvass. There are plenty of conversations out there. Same as going into a classroom with some notes but you eventually just speak freely to the students. Do the same on the phone, in the field. Be free, and enjoy your steps and words, the ideas exchanged and the people you learn.
Already prepping for this next week. Not so much prepping but preparing character. If all goes well, I could have 2 or 3 pieces of ink by week’s end. Worst, I should have 1. Which I would take, loudly and lovingly.
Looking at pictures of my little daughter last night, coming into the house after playing outside with the other kids but before her brother and laying on the couch with me, legs stretched over my lap, relaxed. Concerned about nothing but the moment with me, being with me and saying nothing. Just being there… living, loving, with her daddy. That too instructs a different pattern of action in this writer.
This year, everyone hating it. Me, seeing 202 as one of the more enriching and instrumental of my life so far. For a number of dotes I’ve already written so I won’t again put the record on repeat. Just noting here what’s in my thinking.
Suddenly think of writing Dad’s story… the story about going to Mali and getting that statue, flying all over the world. Where do I start. OR, do I write a character just based on him. OR…. Don’t write it, just premise my pages from Dad’s stories. When I was a kid I’d tell my friends that Dad was like Indiana Jones. Still see him that way a bit. Dad of course retired now, but will go through these stories every so often with me. I just sit there, still, in absolutely and enveloping awe of what he’s saying. I know it’s all true, and I know the person I’m staring at lived what’s being spoken.
Again going back to truth. Just speaking your life, what you are…. The aggregate of your actions.