11/5/19

Day NINEtY-FIVE

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.

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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.

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11/4/19

Day NINETY-FOUR

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.

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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.

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I’M. THINKING. TOOOOOOOOOOO. MUCH.

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.

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…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.

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!

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11/1/19

Picked up the NaNo project.  A thousand already in file, written.  Feeling off this morning.  Don’t know if I didn’t get adequate rest or what, but that’s my feeling, where I am in my mood ring this morning.  Not that my mood is bad, really, but in a stall.  Keep moving.  Get outside. Meeting at 11 with leads group member.  Today, work will catapult me further to where I want to be, in my own office and speaking businesses and narratives like Sonic.

A no-spend day, today.  Some overhead’s about to hit, and I have six days till pay.  No winery this weekend, obviously.  Part of me’s relieved while the other is irked.  Keep writing, keep studying my own story and how I arrived here, here, in this tech office where I am more than encouraged and appropriately deployed.

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…but each department would have a known collaborative dynamic with the other, and it’d be written. Not as a rule or law, or anything like that, but so the departments can continue to learn from each other, and about the company, what the company’s purpose and vision and principle, empirical aim.

Planning tomorrow in field.  Travel as light as possible, I write in head, and soon on actual page.  Wake early tomorrow, write tonight.  Studying different business, how they’re build, how they move, their narrative and each millimeter of reality in their walls.

My desk, messy but not in an obstructing way.  Only leads allowed on desk surface, my rule even when in the incubator, where the new AAE is.

Sipping my IPA, or technically ale I guess it would be, and organizing desk.  Only leads allowed.  Taking prospecting notes, and approaches to selling, speaking.  Ideas now almost too much to catalogue and note, inventory.  So don’t, I tell myself. Talking to a friend trying to get apposition here confirms a varietal of perceptive parcels of my thinking in this AE life. 3:37, and most are assuming celebratory stance and chants.  Sure some are wondering why I’m not leaving, cuz F it I don’t have to or want to.  Once home, I’ll have little chance to write.  Stopping by Oliver’s which is finally open again since the evacs have been lifted.  Still dazed and irked that it happened again.  Chalk Hill, charred far more than I thought it’d be. Anyway, tomorrow a lock-in for me. At computer, on phone, logging what I say, writing and re-writing approaches.  I don’t see how you could be “successful if–  No, fuck that, I hate that word.  How could you BE a sales person if you don’t write, if you don’t re-write, if you don’t focus on you as a brand and voice, not so much expert but determined and discernible authority on YOU, and then maybe your product.  Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not the most tech-told chap…

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Day NINETY

No dressing up, no pretend, nothing fabricated or costumed.  I’m a writer, blogger.  And now I generate significant income from such.  HOW.  All the principles that Sonic instills in terms of narration and prospecting, and NOT SELLING.  As writers and bloggers I feel we wish and hope so much for something to happen rather than just convincing ourselves that we’re already there.  Don’t act like you’re doing it, just move in that form and frame.

Have to send out a contract this morning, or re-send it rather.  Then will be out of office visiting prospects.  Shit, should have risen early from pillow and sheets.  Woe of my life’s row. Ways to make it happen are beyond obvious, so why don’t I embrace and enact them.  Good question, which isn’t much a question but more a statement.

Quiet in office, two trainers and other AE not yet here.  Babies coming home today, and me getting impatient.  With what.  Everything.  Don’t I tell myself and can hear others telling me, ordering me.  So…. Keep moving.  Fear no error or folly or simple mistake.  Just keep deciding, realizing, actualizing and materializing.

Putting $10 in envelop in desk drawer.  No cash.  Saving.  For what.  Business.  MY business.  Turn a blog into something like this, like Sonic, with everything it is and speaks and connotes.  How…. By making a book out of everything… a book on production and productivity, a book on taking notes/notes to self, a book on selling but not selling, a book on marketing, and office atmosphere, management…. Budgeting, and empirical business. Not sure where I am in the hundred day project I set before self.  I’m estimating late 80s or early 90s.  The goal of the project was to be on autopilot, and I more or less, I think more—definitely MORE—am.

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