Up from a nap a bit ago.  Didn’t really fall asleep with Henry down here with me earlier, around 4-something.  And, when I was about to fall into something sleep-like, he would call and grieve not allowing me.  So the nap was warranted and needed and I have no qualms with it.

Sipping espresso, already sending two emails.  Phone appointment with new prospect at 11:30.  After that, leaving house to hit gym for speed work.  Strength, Mental Strength.  In order for the issue of the negative notes to be gone.  Today is about discipline and the strength to actuate that discipline.  Part of Mike Madigan now thinks he should just run to the gym now and get that speed work done.  No… stick to plan.  After call.  Collect in paragraphs now, here at desk.

Need to make time for prospecting but I have enough to do with existing possibilities.  I’ll learn the best method, not stressing now, or ever.  No time for it.  I shouldn’t be in the house now… should be working offsite, at a coffee shop or somewhere.  After this post, gathering self and departing.  Could do the call in my car.  Yes, should not be working at home anymore….  And pack light.

The knot of motion, this morning’s beat.  Just untangle, I tell myself.  Yeah, that simple.  The movement being contact, the music not stopping, the holy contour of the written declaration.  Couple other projects needing me, my steps and types, pages.  Nothing int his scene and minute is mundane or plain, or set in any sort of sameness, I know.  More than a perspective, or attitude, but a fervent devouring of a character’s own reality.

A morning where there’s the realization and robust understanding that the realizations don’t stop if you have your mind in a certain curvature.  The espresso talking to me, telling the writer to be hungrier, more uncomfortable.  Current track has me with new perspective – more than that, new scope and architecture of mind.  You’ll read that I take issue with getting old, even that I hate it (think I’ve written that, used the word hate), but that’s a surrendered sense.  Why am I realizing this now, this morning?

With the house quiet, I imagine how the call at 11:30 will go with prospect, then the run right after.  About EVERYTHING, I noted yesterday… nothing ‘Account’ or ‘Executive’ about what I do.  It’s the character who writes, devotes sight to being About EVERYTHING.  In the wallet and keys on the desk with me, my business cards, others’ cards, the two phones, this laptop, the sweater I just put on.  Music in the room, promise and never any doom.  I feel for those seeing only clouds and not letting themselves understand that sky and sun are on the other side.  That scenes shift.

Guess the nap abetted this momentum, for this writing father – runner, whatever else I am.  Singularized identity is possible then definitively impossible.  Reasoning behind my ‘AE’ definition.  Had a dream, I think, about the wine ideas…. The tasting room and the production side – crush pad lined with barrels, tasting through samples on the bench in lab, then bottling day.  Had to be the GSM I had last night, or the Zin the night prior.  My voices amalgamating like an eager tribunal…. In session, wildly.