Balance Blob

At desk.  Listening to Furiously Happy by Lawson.  Don’t do this often, or as often as I should.  As she talks, I remember that the call is always ours, for everything.

So far today, had a phone appointment with Ditter – my Engineer – and delivered some pricing to a prospect, and now about to deliver more pricing.  Not my call if they get it, meaning sign with me.  I did something though, I did what I was supposed to do. Lawson in my head.  Me in my head.  I’m oblong and eagerly thronged.  So, I keep writing, keep noting things about this AE thing… how to sell during a pandemic.  My son Jack just told me that he and his class are collaboratively writing a book on “surviving the pandemic”, as he said.  Something like that.  I need to have that thought progression, prose and attitude.

Lawson talking about tricks on the battlefield.  That’s what helps, if you have them, if you learn them on your own.  This time, the covid time.  While it rains, and you have to stay inside even more so.  So weird.  Rain stops, I get up to get more coffee and the kids are playing in the other room, no worries as always.  12:!7pm, guess lunch hour or time for lunch but I’m not hungry.  Actually I’m a little tired and could nap but I’m quitting napping, forever, so this coffee if my new religion and medicine.

First sip…. Writing out class plan for the night.  When do I get on bike… how about 2?  Sure, fine, that works.  Gives me time to write and prep for class and be an AE.  I turn off Lawson for a second, and think about the title, and her introducing sentiments.  Happy, and furiously.  Happiness and how it’s attained.. maybe it’s not some perfect shape or set of sides.  Me moving slow now but maybe that’s part of it.  There is no paradigm, there is no real method, and certainly no agreed-upon definition, denotative or conno’.

Desk, again a mess. I just stare at it, laugh, and realize it’s not that much a mess.  A mask, journals, wired earbuds, running gloves and beanie and armband for phone.  Everything me is everything here, beginning with this coffee, the mug reading “Yes, I speak Kerouac.” And like him, the poetry is in everything, all around me and in every piece of paper scattered and roaming ‘cross this surface.  Everything… AE, about EVERYTHING.  Thought for a second I was on a break, but I’m not.  This is part of what and who I am as that title.  And it’s just a title.  ME…. YOU…. You are the title, the job, the action, the project, company and effort.  This purveys happiness, and happiness form or phylum you imagine.

Another sip.  Now music, something atmospheric, colorful and airy, reverberating and urging me to calm, to know that today is pristine in promise and pages.  Thinking again about this blog, my writing, me as a writer, life’s work, where I am in life, what I do for “work”, the definition of work and happiness and purpose and how it all blends and makes some track of its own.  New music.