Henry waking from a nap that I initiated, or, well, really, just walked out of the room while he was blaring with cry and he fell asleep. Knew he was tired. Can tell by the high-tone bubbly screech, poor little bloke.
At desk and readying for class. Did the bike for an hour, for the first time in……. Hoping to do an hour run tomorrow. OR, an hour of weights. Maybe while working. Can bring the weights in here and lift in between emails, notes, blog posts.
Lightly raining I think, sipping a Lagunitas Maximus. Thinking of tomorrow and calling on new businesses which I didn’t do much of today. The #prospectesk project is my priority tonight. Thinking of different angles of business, possibly even fiddling with CRM design of my own. Eventually would have to hire a programmer, but that’s not something to entangle self in or with or about now.
27 minutes to class. Odd peace in house now, with bigger kids upstairs and Henry with his mother, also upstairs.
Thinking urgency, rush and panic, but in a good way. Develop a rounded and robust business in 48 hours. Challenge to self. Start with #prospectesk, turning my prospecting efforts for Sonic into a business and media entity. Hmmm…. I start to think more and bubbles of possibility circle around me.
Time for wine, the Martin Ray SB. Only had a glass of it last night. I’m working tonight, I decide. Not watching any Netflix, or even looking for new music. WORK. Writing… the business and the office in SF, mine… jobs, creating everything. Thinking legacy but even more than that. Thinking bigger than I’m supposed to maybe, but who’s to say I should think this way, or that, or…..
Yesterday driving home in the rain and that crazed wind of unusual aggression, I realized that I am a writer but writing is not most of what I want or want to “do”. I approach essentially everything AS a writer, but…. That’s not it. Want my own office, company, practice, wine, wine business/shop/quarter.
Like I woke from a nap, and I’m seeing the world, all stairs and streets and people differently. Huh…. Never felt this, I don’t think.
Should be in class now. Talking to self and ordering Mike Madigan to stay on clock, in mode of creative and building shapes, entities and voices. From the anatomy of a writer but not just as a writer or for the writing.