My sandwich game is prophetic.
Revisiting an old vineyard shot.
An old time.
Jack just asked me if I’m bored. I tell him I’m not. I tell him I make it fun. “Do I make it fun?” He asks me. I laugh, then we start talking back and forth in Irish brogues. “Jahkeh Chez, whaht arr ya doin in there, ya crazeh chiLd?” Not sure I’m doing an Irish accent too much credit with how I write the inflection, but he’s still doing it and making me laugh, and I don’t want to work anymore today, I’ve decided.
Both contracts sent out, nothing returned. Can’t write during day like this. Has to be done early and late. Take notes in between, my new routine. So is this a note then? Maybe.
Jack absolutely losing his mind…. He’s mocking me now, with no fear of consequence or me getting mad, which I like. Don’t want my kids to be afraid of me of course, and in terms of the respect factor I’m giving him certain passes in this time of incarceration.
Am I bored? No… can’t let myself be. But more than usual since this lockup. What do you write? I keep asking myself. EVERYTHING. Maybe that’s the title for this book – written like this, ‘what do you write everything’. No punctuation. NONE.
3:57. Want a glass of that white I bought at Oliver’s. Bought a red for dinner, some Mourvedre from a winery in Anderson Valley. I know the winery I just don’t know how to spell it. Will post on other blog, later.
Odd quiet in the house. Everyone gone. Only me here. Distracted by kids earlier, and willingly. Playing with them upstairs, reading books, and playing some more. Waiting on two contracts, now. One of them requested this morning and sent shortly thereafter.
Sipping coffee. Had eggs for breakfast, trying to skip lunch. Only write, record ideas and wait for the return on some things. Made a couple calls earlier, but nothing materializing. Reminded by one that they’re not in the office, obeying the shelter order, or suggestion.
Digital Marketing, Web Design, Blog-based Marketing and communication, all giving me ideas but nothing I want to act upon just yet. Gather the ideas in journal. When this order is over, I feel like that will be it. That is when I’ll launch, be aflight.
Quiet outside as well. Hear wind chimes. A couple kids playing off to right, up street. Thinking of going to get some wine for tonight, some red. Tired of drinking Chardonnay or weird white blends like the one from a couple nights ago. Was good, don’t mistake me, but still weird and not something too much worth writing.
Sitting here in long-awaited soundlessness, I imagine my vineyard, and what’s needed to get it. The wine I’ll make eventually from the rows. Don’t think too much, I remind myself. In fact, not at all. This in-place prose, seeing myself in third-person as I wrote the other day. Me and wine… this is all for wine. All of it. All my ideas with marketing and business narrative, design, tech, internet-anything… this whole AE story, is all for wine. To write it, her, and for other intentions. Some of which, most of which, I have not discovered.
She tells me to find more story, to write more freely. Don’t work, just pen wined prose. Or is it poetry, poetic. Who wants a category? Not me. Not her. So write more freely, I see. Wine is not bottled, certainly not bottled poetics. It’s free verse, it’s music that continues flight, to be in-flight and flying, telling us things about our stories and where we’re from, where we’re going.
Going to start calls in a minute. Wrote business idea in BW journal. Kids not as crazy as yesterday, at least for now.
Targeting Graphic Design firms, marketing and advertising offices, architects, digital design, web design… Everything I’m interested in. I’ve been doing that, but not with the intensity I should. Aim, even though I said I wouldn’t jot aims anymore, is 25 businesses. List them all. That will be my launchpad, or nexus for the agency, MY agency, the P-O-Z Agency.
Need more design, more visual incorporated into not just the blog, but everything. One challenge presented by this shelter order, that I can’t go our there and be in front of people, show my enthusiasm and liveliness for Sonic. Or wait….. yes I can! Video…. I’ll take a drive later and shoot one.
Ideas this morning applying to many businesses… wine, me as an “educator”, blogger and writing bloke, and just Mike Madigan.
You hear something, turn
to the sound’s place, base, face, trace.
Establish new gate.
Woke earlier than usual, leads group meeting over phone. After that and after a quick battle with car, came home to a leaking kitchen ceiling. Just when the circumstances and how they’re set couldn’t get anymore interesting. Straight into prospecting and research, with crazed beast children around me.
Need some lunch. Like what…. Whatever I can find in home. Bought self latte earlier, as it was entirely warranted and necessitated, and then a hot chocolate for someone else in house. Logging and tracking production in day. Found two commercial real estate firms to contact, and I did. Now to property management.
Noise in house, from all angles… from the babies, Jack most audibly, and the fan in kitchen. No more new aims being set, only logging what’s done. Tonight I’m thinking of when there’s no noise, a complete sound void, what I’ll do. Come back here, rather than work on phone. Which I did last night, but it’s not being in the chair…. IN THE CHAIR, where I tell students they should stay, remain, till something significant and something they enjoy is on page.
Jack agitating his mother and sister. I don’t fault him, even when it sounds like I do getting annoyed with his restlessness, like this morning throwing a sock at me while on a call with a prospect (I nearly laughed while talking to the guy). Now I’m restless… Dad had a good point on our call this morning, what if you can’t get ahold of them. Which of course I already measured, but then my head went to time. What if this lasts a long time?
Re-writing CV as I think I noted, and a concise and vibrant letter which I re-write over and over, have several letter prepped to launch to various businesses. And after that I don’t know, something… some project. Always a move, a movement, new music and beats to play.
Desk. Again. Learned that schools are closed until May 1st. Great. Effects of the quarantine are visible. Loudly visible. Made self a coffee, kids in home school mode in kitchen writing in journals. Jackie writing about the day, effectively reminding me of the straightforwardness of such narrative qualities. Stressed now about business, and the whole virus itself. I need to stay up late tonight as I earlier mentioned… write my thesis on not thinking. Noting in journal, item #11. Been itemizing ideas, a project to itself kind of but more to see how many I can log sans interruption.
“This should be Emma and my art studio.” Jack says. The eventual office need have that feel and texture, voice and creative climate.
Jackie and his mother leave to go back to her school, to get some chords or something for some device on which they’ll do more homeschooling and lessons, activities, ed videos and what be. “Can I bring my journal so I can write that we’re driving to your school to get the power chords?” Jack asks. Love his eagerness to write and how he writes, his style which may be influence by my emphasis on narrative meta, or not. Emma stays with me and sings some song in a silly octave, in the kitchen coloring, or trying to write… she continues singing after a short-spun intermission.
Out of shower. Back at desk.
Thinking about lunch, but want to fast a bit. Not in the mood to run, even though I should force myself.
Everyone back home, and I get an email from prospect that he wants to do a two-year contract and not a 3. FUCK. Guess it’s sensible, that everyone is cutting back, or just flat out going out of business. Just ended call with another AE, and he said the same thing. Which tells me I need to adjust my business model entirely…. Not panic. Go to media, write more but write less. Keep entries brief. Less than 300 words. Or no more than 200. Not just brevity, but immediacy, urgency.
Need a drive I think, but don’t want to leave wife stuck with restless beats. What do I do. I’m restless.. need be composed, stay so….
Shave, go to camera, broadcast thoughts.
New times means new business practice. No thinking… just self-throwing at projects and priorities.
No idea what to do. I could keep looking for vendors I guess, or take a break. How about take a break, even though I kind of just took one. I can’t get warm in this goddamn house, even with the heater on. This desk, in a corner, with windows on either side. Shades are down and closed, but I’m still freezing. How to stay productive, how to stay moving….. Go for a drive, I’m thinking. Work in your car. I need to get out of the house.
Where would I park. Good question. Actually no that’s a stupid question, and an even more idiotic idea to leave the house. I want the shelter-in-place madness to consumer me…. That’s what will keep me writing.
Have an idea for tonight… no wine, just water and intermittent coffee. Pull an all-nighter, be a student, a student on a deadline. You write your thesis tonight… you saved it for the last minute. What’s it on?
Think, think… or, don’t think. THERE IT IS. On not thinking and when writing you force yourself and bring yourself to a place and thoughtful space of thought-void, only electing movement. Communicate where you are and what you’re doing. There is no boring scene, and if you’re bored with your writing then you throw wildness from your vocal.