Same energy as yesterday.  Quick, elevated, hungry and fucking fearless.  Got a parking ticket downtown while at meeting at SR Chamber.  Totally my fault.  Was suggested I make Sonic pay for, but no.  I’m owning it as lesson to self.

Found company I very much want to know better, work with.  Just gave info to reception, and who knows if that’ll ever get to where it’s intended.  Not a shot at the lady that answered, that’s just how it goes.  Keeping my movement with a bright blaze that strays all ways.

Looking at another company, now.  And I’ve found to prospecting when you’re too diagnostic and not enough curious and conversational, human, then you’ve detracted from your potential to achieve whatever it is you want.

No Starbucks, didn’t buy lunch, and noted 6.56 miles at lunch run.  Productive day, and not just that, not just for sakes of productivity, but feeling like I am where I need be.  And not focusing on product or service, or even any of them.  And no geographical emphasis, either.  Just getting out there, speaking.  By day HUNDRED, I’ll be on more than just autopilot.  My agency will be FULLY up, aloft, in total flight.  Little tired after run, but I’m still moving.  May need a cup of coffee at some point, soon.  Yes, good idea.  But just one more.  Trying to cut back on caffeine, have been moderately successful in that try.

What else…. Could clean desk a bit, or let it gather more notes, more business cards, more of what people would call “clutter”, but is anything but.

3:58. Bought sparkling water at café down the road with some loose change from desk.  Having some of the snacks Abe gave me just after my run.  Looking for businesses to contact, and had an idea, one that will further hone my practice here at Sonic for the P-O-Z Agency, directly.

Yes, I absolutely stumbled upon something.  And maybe not stumbled, but connected with something as a result of my movements.  Don’t want to write it, here or anywhere in fear of an accidental self-hex.  But there is definitely something here.

Connectedness, connectedness…. in genuine connection, not just networking.  Want to know more about the people and the business the entire story.  Forget yourself for a bit and be utterly and willingly enveloped in where you are and what greets you.  Today has been a ride, for which I didn’t buy the ticket I wrote it myself.  I chose this train.  Loving it.  Will have to take Sonic laptop home with me, to continue work—Wait, no I don’t.  I’ll write on the wife laptop and email to self all ideas and research findings.

Calming self.  Not allowing too much altitude, immediately.  Have to write someone in company, but before I do, more notes.  Planning day.. Meeting at SR Chamber at 8am, then straight to office.  Shorter run tomorrow at lunch, 5 miles.  Class tomorrow night, grade when on campus.  Can’t believe I already have shit to grade.  Not a problem.  What I love, now.  Used to hate grading.  Gives me more content and talk material in the Room.

Everyone left, from the bullpen, or barnyard as Julia calls it.  Time to self, all the activity in this office and people talking about porting and pairs, CO distances, ethernet over copper, and everything else.  The new language sinks in.  No, no more of that silly firehose analogy.  Didn’t make that many calls today, but did move in other more creative ways, through research and… then another idea collides with my frame, this character here.  What’s happening to me, today?  And thinking of how my day started and that mood… that mood I excommunicated and has not attempted a return.

Will celebrate with wine, tonight.  Will write.  Notes.  Smaller entries and jots (this post not considered, obviously, as I’m pretty sure I’m now over 500 words).



No deadline of any kind.  Any possibly that’s the problem, Mike thinks.  He digs through his notes, nothing hits him, strikes him, flirts with him tickles him or prompts him or anything in his functional writing being-shifts.  He types too much, too easily he thinks carrying his laptop everywhere and just opening and hitting keys with such ire and volume.

                Still nothing.  He thinks of what so many have told him about wine and how much he knows about wine—which he hates.  He can’t stand when people voice something to the lean of, “With how much you know wine, you should write reviews on your blog.” He hates that.  True detest.  He’d rather stop writing and wine in tandem.

                More notes.  Cabernet…. Singing storm of confusions and caresses.  He said this about a winery’s current released, somewhere he used to work, somewhat recently.  The man on his tour said that’s what he needs to do.  Mike asked what.  Man said this, this, the way you talk about wines… “You don’t sound like the others.  I don’t even know how they get paid what they do, or why people follow them so much.” Mike remembers himself nodding with synchrony of idea, sight, seeing that, writing wine.  But something happened.  Mike still doesn’t know what, but he didn’t follow that wave and ride of complimentary shove, and here he is.  Thinking of what to write on a winery day.

                7:18am.  To be at the winery in a little less than two hours.  He received a text yesterday asking when was the earliest he could be on property.  Mike responded curtly, “10.” His scheduled time.  He tires of the tasting room, much material as it provides.  He wants more from wine and the writing he does from it.  What, he doesn’t know.  Starting his blogging life if ’09, he now orders more from his self.  Maybe he should dismiss it, altogether.  And, stop even sipping wine for a bit to have it all in his pseudo and metaphysical internal illustrative.  Seeing wine made, sipped, tasted, the people swarming into the tasting room like yesterday when he dropped by Truett-Hurst to visit an old friend with whom he used to work.  Yes, at a winery.  She was a wine club manager and Mike thinks she does more or less the same thing now at Truett.  But she was helping a group, a pretty sizeable one.  Mike thinks she said something like 50 people.  Mike spied them for a bit, before walking around the property, through a tree awning of some kind, and onto a lawn, and over to a barn area where there were chickens seemingly talking to the people passing.

                What deadline should Mike rile.  Mike tells himself, “20 days”.  For what.  Something.  Something about wine, finished.  He doesn’t believe in “writer’s block”, in fact he completely dismisses the excuse.  And that’s how he sees it.  An excuse.  An excuse to not write, an excuse to talk about not writing, and just a frivolous scream of anti-compose.  Twenty days, starting today.  Should he?  A wine book?  About what?  Wine.  Just that.  That one word.  Wine… not what people should drink or even drinking wine, but the story of wine, the definition and anti-definition of her.  As Duke and Gonzo looked for some dream, American or otherwise.

                The dream is in the wine paragraphs, painting her with some syllabic rush and road.  How.  He’ll find out.  When.  Today.  And till the 28th.

                Just take notes, he himself tells.

…the tasting room, my vineyard walks.  Still hungry.  Need a piece of something back there, if there’s anything left.  And a glass of Pinot.  Any here in office?  I’m sure there is, somewhere.

Back from walk to get two more pieces.  Obviously hungry from run.  Set stopwatch, or not set it but started it.  Not getting up till, well, I absolutely have to.  Stay in the chair and write, like I tell students.  Got coffee to help.  Chewing gum now to substitute for brushing, not sure it is but it’s better than nothing at all.  In office, forcing self to work.  From this page then to something Sonic-associated.  Looking for IT and IW vendors, construction companies, building MY agency. Gum out, coffee in.  Thinking wine.  All wine.  At Lancaster this Sunday, what I’ll have tonight which is all I have in the house, just the remainder of that Merlot.  Wine… my story in it.  Want a vineyard, want to make wine from it, and not go to Davis or some program at the JC or wherever.  Start my label… write the whole thing.  My desk become a tasting room counter, right now, I see it, you should see it, it’s real.  Wine doesn’t want me to write anything else but HER.  In these last pulses in the office, I see and taste Cabernet.  I only want to be around wine.  No interest in anything, but those walks, the books I’ll write…

Back from event.  Answering emails and sending new ones.  Adding to list of businesses to contact, in a minute.  Goal is to have two “funnels”.  They will be similar, but one with different information about the contacts.  I’ve always known I have “contacts”, and people I can call on to refer clients to, but never did the examining, or read the list, or forwarded a conversation.

Just today’s event taught me more than a lot or enough about business and how to speak your business.  I go on and on about this, but at my age I need repeat some of it not so much for retention but to be always at ready.  To do what?  Just that.. speak the narrative.

See myself in my eventual shop.  How I open, how I close, how I prospect, how I shop, how I everything.

Thinking of wine and everything I’ve seen from wine’s collective and individual narrative.

Want more.  More story.  More intersections and collective composing with wineries.  How to start…. Selling.  With wineries that speak my language, and I theirs.  And I if I’m not pervasively acute in their tongue, I learn it.  And I will.

While with the last glass of Lancaster red last night, there was declaration, and movement in my Now wine-speak.

Wine tells me to write more about her and get lost in the myriad of vortex and truth, the ontological lasso of every vineyard row and lot tasted from the bench.  Haven’t done that in a while, a blending trial.  It’s harvest now, so I can’t just reach out to one of my winemaker buddies and say something like “Hey, mind if I crash the bench?” Like I used to do with Blair and Zach at Kunde.

Just ideas, this morning… wine ideas that take me to a new letter and possible talk.



Back from leads meeting.  Brought my own coffee, and did something I haven’t done in a while… got a fifty cent refill with an old gifted tumbler.  It was in no way a refill, just the kid behind the bar knows my name and I played to that card.  So I thought about selling, and recognition, brand recognition yes but just knowing something or someone, and the proximal response.

Do something different with my prospecting, something.  One, writing more letters.  Calling less.  Write about Sonic, more.  Study the story and identity of Sonic.  DO. NOT. GIVE. UP.  OR, slow down.  Keep the motion and conversation tireless and as I was told, nearly promised, “Good things will happen.” This morning told by a member, Gary, nice guy who does loans and does a lot of business, that it takes time.  Plant seeds, have conversations, go out…

Lunch today in Novato.  Meet as many people as possible.

Working as well on a couple side projects, that aren’t really side projects but to the side of Sonic, of course.  Great lecture last night.  The whole time talking to these high school kids and hearing them narrate their plans to transfer and travel, me standing their wanting to do the same.  “Fuck it, then why don’t you.” True.  Why don’t you, I, we?  More life in the day, more life in me and life through movement, through what I do.

A wine project…. Going to take a coffee break here in a minute and write some notes on it.  And, target wineries that I want to study, learn, possibly help move bottles.  All these notes to self to help lift self off ground, gain altitude.  Wine, bridging that stretch in my story and all the wine world people I know, bridging it here, or something.  Writing freely in this morning’s early locomotive intentions with paragraphs and narration.  All over the place with my ideas and writings so far.  The coffee very much doing its job, and doing what I need it to.  Wherever I am in the project, I’m getting close to what I want which is that autopilot feeling in this new position, yes, and of course more money, but more than that, any of that, a reaffirmed and confirmed purpose.  The other day thought some of my writing and speaking ability was lost from some perceived block or mock-reality.  But no.  NO.  It’s all a decision.  All of this is a decision.  To do what you want, and what will get you to your There.  You reach a point where you’re just tired of it, tired of feeling a certain way, and the only steps you’ll accept are ones of a new beat and clef.

Planning to break at ten.  Just sent first email.  And now…. Hearing people in a meeting.  Signed contract just came in through email.  Celebratory, me, but only for a second.  Want to replicate that, transact, over and over. And I will, through creative prospecting.  And I’m getting sick of that word, prospecting.  So what’s the next logical word?  Is that word needing to be logical?  I’m overthinking.