Nothing written today, from being as busy and centered in my AE story as I’ve been.  Which is good, no?  Readying for class, which more than likely I’ll let go rather early.  8 mile run, not feeling anything right now, but know I will in about an hour.  Thinking of going to break room and getting coffee, some water for the #pozvibez flask, or tumbler.

Nothing planned for tonight, and that’s just the way I want it, the way it should be.

Sipping coffee slow, water tumbler loaded, ice and water.  Surprised there WAS any ice in the machine.  IT’s usually ice-less.  Something about that ice machine I just find funny.  An ice machine.  Don’t ask me why, or maybe you should.

Should get off clock in a bit.  Head to campus, plan something for tonight.  Like what.  Planning… planning something to write.  A narrative on you.  Start there.  Right now writing a plan with tomorrow’s checks.  Payday, hate that I look so forward to it.  The next 100 days project will be enormously focused on finances, making my money do something for me, for the family, for business.  Less eating out, buying more for home so the house will be the restaurant, the wine bar, the café, the everything.

And, another thing for the next hundred days, write more freely. Think less, if at all.  Freewriting and humor need be free and not at all concerned with inhibition or if the humor won’t land or connect.  Freedom in writing, something about it has a seductive nudge and note that I can’t ignore. I of course endorse and advocate it, speak of it with the highest of loves and esteems, but I don’t practice in a way that aligns.  Right now, I’m thinking… about what.  Yes, now I’m going to make fun of myself… about class, about what I do till class.  Tomorrow, the drive to San Carlos, the meeting with the property management guy, then the drive back and that fucking traffic on 280 or like last time on 101, then 19th Avenue, then the narrows (Novato).  Fuck I’m a mess, and not from anything around me.  I’m creating trash and contamination in head through thinking.  So, now, and in the coming project…. NO. THINKING.


Busy day, and I love it to its crucial and intricate bits.  Ready for class, and leads meeting tomorrow morning.  Run planned for tomorrow, early.  Thinking another 10:30-er.  Want between a 10k & 7.  8 if I’m feeling crazy.

Not much to write except for some new contract types I learned, visit to business along Bennett Valley Road, wanting to surprise Jackie at his school, say hi and give him a hug, but I had to get back here to desk and take care of what was needed.

Snacking on some cereal I had sequestered in drawer.  Didn’t write out lecture for today, so just quickly jotted notes.  Going to talk about book, writing… need to do something different. Think much the reason I’ve become disenchanted, or disengaged with teaching, or anything, is because of pattern.  Pattern is poison.  Do more than switch it up, as people say.  And I hate when they say that.. when I, say that.

Talking… learning, about how THEY learn.  What they want to learn.

All that’s left to do for me is EOD, and a couple other shifts and arrangements, re-arrangements.  Teaching self again to write without thinking… freewriting, right?  Supposed to be FREE, even of self.  So… free self of self.  What?


8:01.  Had some coffee at home that was in fridge chilling from a few days past, but now some more.  This morning, my mood in the highest of atmospheres and my ambition is with fangs out, ready and hungry, fearless and formed uniquely in the early hours.  No distractions at home in morning, no procrastination, just left out front door.  Not wearing the shoes I wanted, but that’s an easy amend, mend.  Will write out aims in SW journal, but not before coffee.

Coffee cooling.  Then make list for day. What is it in this morning?  I’m flying without flapping or moving and inch of a wing.  Now… even with people around me grieving, complaining, or gossiping, I’m focused and fixated on my place, my story, here at my desk.

Will write something on happiness.  All I’m feeling this morning.  Eyes on my page, my work.  Not talking at all.  Here early… listening.  Machine-gunning through what I need do.  Happiness is something we self-proscribe, perceive. If you want to be NOT in a content composition, then you can actualize that.  Opposite is also easily attainable.  Today I’m choosing joy through productivity, and not letting others’ words get in.  This is very much in my AE log, my manual—or maybe not manual but map to AE autopilot, when you can converse and transact, interact without anxiety or double-clutching, second-guessing or self-doubt.

Cards all over desk, still. And there’s still a few I haven’t touched.  Today though is about re-terms.  Existing customers that haven’t yet signed with us.  I have a visit later, with a new prospect, that I’m quite sure will sign with me.  I’m partnering with another AE on it, one more senior obviously and I’m quite excited to see how he’ll approach and speak Sonic’s identity and set of remedies and availabilities.

Stay learning, stay a student….  Last night in class I voiced once more the idea of avoiding mastery, staying a student, developing your own style and voice through movement and constant creative perpetuation.  Today, embodies and enacted, forwarded.  Forward.


Been going all day.  ALL, day.  Meet contractor at house in a bit, then coming back to office.  Prep for class, and start framing 2nd 100-Day operation.  Going to write the entire thing, if I can. Still have to finish my goddamn novel.  What a shock, I feel all over the place.  Sipping coffee, then some water after this.  Get up and go to market in back of building, get sparkling water, Blackberry Bubbly.  So quiet in office now.  Did some whole department, or 2, go to some meeting? There’s a voice, one usual loud one, then the laugh.

One aim for this next project, firm and immovable daily DO list.  How many items, doesn’t matter.  And I don’t have to hit each thing, each day.  Just attempt to touch as many as able.

Don’t want to call anymore people, nor email.  Feeling patterned.  How do I make atomic my AE steps, presence, voice, consistency of conversion.  Absolutely shock the whole fucking company?  Had an idea on my run, my shitty 3-point-something run, where I became exhausted right before the intersection of Stony Point and Sebastopol.  But I’m here, and doing what I can.  Hearing people cough, hoping I don’t catch anything… How to get There, that’s what we all ask ourselves, or the ceiling or wall.  Don’t lie, you know you have too.  Where is that throw of thought going, I couldn’t tell you.

Nearing 3pm.  First word for tonight’s talk written…. FREEDOM.  How we get it, why seek it, is it ever attainable.

4:41.  Another contract, the re-term I’ve been fighting for, comes in.  Ready for class tonight.  Not bringing laptops home.  Get here early in morrow’s morrow.  Bringing the AE journal with me, the endless falls of tips and how-to’s, musings and suggestions.  Two contracts in today, and I know I can’t celebrate.  What worked, how did I approach, what did I say. How do I amplify and actuate some transformative atomic brushstrokes?



Know my approach for day.  Just settling in, now.  Traffic on Stony Point curving and curbing my yay-say this morning, but I don’t need recovery.  I just ignore it.  And, utilize it as a measure for composition of character.  Alone and quiet in bullpen this morning, so I gather, collect, find ways to escalate my AE reality.  Have goals for the next hundred days, or some of them, jotted, typed on borrowed laptop from wife.  8:35 now….  What do to do in this work mode to acquire more elevation, not so much more happiness, but, frankly, more sales.  I will have the nucleus and nexus of Mike Madigan translate to and precipitate sales.  Conversion.

Back in class tonight.  I’ll prep here, not at S&H, nor in the Emeritus conference room.  Right here, at this desk.   So much in my head and a wide terrain of voltage in my actions, this morning.  Running at 11-something.  Only five miles.  Wrote day’s aims in strong words journal.  Overthinking, thinking, an anchor which slows and numbs my trek and dash, marathon’d sprint toward my There.  So… just writing.  Writing in my Now, in this tech office, internet company having me think about connection and interaction.  Class won’t be class, it won’t be anything that it has prior.  But something different.  Something wholly honed on narrations, YOUR words and voice, times and Now.

Not sure the morning latte did much. I do sense the awakeness of me, but not to some unusual or even propelling degree.  Trying to diminish coffee usage, part of day’s approach.  I’ll allow self one more cup, but not for a bit.

More numbness during composition, writing.  Not telling anyone not to care, but just report more, be a teller of location, action.  Me, here in Sonic office the day and people just now coming to life, and me listing day’s aims one by one, like I can hit all of them or maybe I can. What if I can.  Don’t care so much when writing, freewriting means writing freely, autonomously, free of everything including constructions commanded by self.

Can feel the run, now.  Hours later.  Soreness in legs, exhaustion in general operating.  Planning on early run again, tomorrow.  Sipping no wine, tonight.  Only sparkling water wife bought at store for us, but mainly me.

Hoping to wake early tomorrow morning, and I mean early.  The god hour.  4am.  Have at least 2000 words in NaNo project.  Also start writing aims for the next 100-days project.  Clearly writing out all aims.  1, to have actual and documented steps toward my wine label.  Another, register for runs in Oregon and Colorado, both high elevation.  Have enough money for car, either have own offsite office or a membership at that ‘Lab’ place on Mendocino, significant income from independent instruction and speaking.  Going to start a massive and fanatically creative return to writing, literature, lecturing.  Won’t elaborate here, one I’m too tired and two don’t want to hex any potential.  And there is potential, a mammoth amount.

In class tomorrow, for the first time in well over a week.  Listening to Coltrane, at low volume, no TV, pushing me, telling me to be in more a jazz mood and mode in the class.  Just in the moment.  Not thinking, just creation.

For 1A tomorrow, going to speak from self, on destiny, on careers, on people in our lives.  What do we do with what we have, and once we know how often do we further consider what we’re doing.  How much do we leave to chance or destiny, and how much to we value and trust in self action?  Right now, I’m writing from making self do so, choosing to capture where I am and what I’m doing.  On couch, with Coltrane, seeing the day tomorrow, knowing a change and lovely, loving shift in my story is about to land.

All I, WE, have to do is write it.



Haven’t stopped moving since I arrived.  Ran 8 miles at lunch, which I took early, then went to Novato for a meeting and drop in on a business.  Both were beneficial.  On run, thought about the funnel principle, and how doing my job less is doing my job more, in terms of sales.  Which I’ve written before.  Expecting a contract, a re-term, to land any minute now.

Going to call one more business here in a minute before leaving for a meeting at 4:#0 at Aroma R’s.  In sales, I’m now convinced that you need use everything you already have in your story, and write each step, each discovery, and each conversation.  And, let prospects know that you want to work with them.  Writing that on a post-it, now….

Wish I could remember everything from my early run, but I can’t, and I won’t beat self into some mood for not remembering.  Sip cold coffee I made hours ago, and has just been sitting on desk by box of business cards.  Just one sip.

Lett being more a potent punch to audience, more delivery of message in small span.  That’s more poetic, more memorable, and of more lucrative potential.

from this morning…

Do I ever sip Rose.  Yes.  I did last night.  Though, I wasn’t wowed.  And was it good?  I guess, but how good can Rose be?  Enough of Ro-zay.  How about wines that do capture and convince me… what does that?  Pretty much anything but Rose.  Kidding…. Sauvignon Blancs and Chardonnays do hold potential to haunt and bewitch.  Cabs, Pinots (even though I’m not in the whole Pinot-whoa that began with Sideways)… Not going to just list varietals.  That’s not writing.  I look for and welcome any wine that tells me something, that instructs me on wine and why I write about it, her.  Why do I do this… why has merely writing about wine snapped me out of the mood I was in yesterday and that partially clawed into this morning.  What is wine, about it that does this to me, that always convinces me to turn around when I’ve turned around and away from her.

                Wine isn’t a symbol, not a metaphor, but a reminder.  That I’m only here for so long, and that’s not so long. So snap out of it.  I’m not one to write about wine and just slap a score to its name and accompany with some remedial barely paragraph-long narration.  This, SHE, is more.

What winery should I write at, today.  If I do, if I can.  Which.  Thinking DeLoach on Olivet, or Hook & Ladder.  Something close.  Don’t want to drive all the way to Sonoma Valley, St. Francis or Kunde, or St. Jean, ‘cause that’s where my head goes with near immediate inkling.

                More than wine, it’s knowing that the time you waste being angry, or low for some unexplained reason, resenting something, you forfeit life.  You surrender opportunity to LIVE.  And for me, WRITE.  Today being one new, obvious invitation to climb, I think of my favorite book, or one of them.  Duke looked everywhere for the DREAM.  And not necessarily an American one.  But FREEDOM, a wildness that would purvey and provide his heaven.  His manuscripts.  Seeing this as an embrace of what’s at your 12 and not a rejection of it.  And in all other directions as well.

                Running tonight.  Then when back more for book, and blog, both, whatever.  Just more than yesterday.  No more letting a mood sink me, letting some force or pseudo-force altogether within my control, control and steer, decompose me.  That’s no longer allow to materialize.

                Enthusiasm, even for what I’d rather not do. That’s what will truly joy ado.


So I stop, realize.  Hear people walking, returning to desk from break and person telling another what they missed.  Busy office, activity, transacting.  Someone just said, “The fires made me proactive”.  Work, WORK.  I write about work and what it does, and what it now does to me, this writer here in a tech office, hard to qualify, categorize.  This job, from the grocery story gig on peninsula… OH.. was going o call on this one business, but forgot which one.  Doesn’t matter, I can find another—OH, the insurance office in Petaluma.  There you go, I say to myself.  Being an AE is like, well, more than a juggling act.  A metaphor I head far before I really started moving in this new story.  Ugh, I’m thinking too much about what to write rather than just writing what I’m doing.  Which is, frankly, looking at clock and waiting departure.  Not the usual me, if you know me.

No winery on Sunday, asked friend whose family owns a property off Occidental Road if there’s any help she needs.  No response. Know some readers will be like “What they fuck are you doing?  Take the day off, be with your family… USE THE TIME TO DEVELOP A PRODUCT.” Very true, very true.  And with no winery to-do’s on Sunday, I can maybe go tasting, somewhere, take notes and write an actual wine track.  American Dream, no, but the Mike Madigan dream.  Keep typing and fuck if it makes sense… Want a Cabernet, some way.. where.  Don’t want to go where I did last night for dinner.  Much too loud.  And I think that one spot on Stony Point closed down, something about their liquor license being pulled.

…this ‘STRONG words’ journal that my aunt & uncle bought me years ago.  Feel bad as I remember not making fun of them but nonetheless making remarks, like Oh another journal, and Oh wow buying a writer a journal, what a shock.  Again, said with sarcasm, gentle snark, not malice.


Work is what you compose, how you see it, more than attitude but collective character and approach, and if anyone or anywhere has taught me that, truly, it’s Sonic.

Meeting in an hour….  Interested to see this guy’s office, setup, learn more about what he does.  Thinking….. ideas…. On how to have myself heard, more of my words read…..

12:36.  Early lunch done.  Now have to drive to a part of Santa Rosa for inspection of grounds, layout, but I’m utterly unmotivated.  There’s this block.  So then removed the block.  It’s that easy, right. 

After meeting in Cotati, I know that singularization MUST be prioritized and better implemented in my day-to-day.  Tired.  Get coffee then.  Will before I leave.

No… get coffee now.  Then ride to Montgomery Drive. Okay, so after I’ve said over and over what I’m doing.. now to do.  Coffee….

2:18.  Now 19.  Not getting up from this chair till at least 4pm.  Got back from a quick visit to a part of Santa Rosa where I could acquire some new clients.  Still no Starbucks, still no spending, still in a writer’s lean for day.  Thinking about leaving early, but what would I do.  Well, I could write offsite, at a café or… no, that would mean spending money.  So no.  Feel like I’m writing about nothing right now, just writing to write.  Some I know would just tell me to stop writing, that’ll solve everything.  Relax, don’t stress, and bla bla.

Not many people in office today, I feel.  So quiet.  And my buddy who yesterday opened a couple beers with me in the office and said we need to turn up the day, not here.  So I truly feel it’s all on me. Which I’m fine with.  Work… work within self, within the day, at this desk in this chair staring at this screen.  Ready calls for Monday, emails and visit to Marin that you didn’t want to do today.  Writer at a tech company, I remember.  Eating raisin bran and looking at the clock.  No… stop that.

                Cards, business cards that is, all in this hectic but somehow contained stack on desk.  Thinking Monday what I’ll do is cruise through them in morning with emails then head to Marin—how exciting.  Sarcasm… a shitload of sarcasm that was.  I could leave here and…. Wait!  Idea!